To have everything ….

It never ceases to surprise me, how life can still be so lifeless despite having everything.

There is a certain attraction to nihilistic thinking when you have everything you could desire.

When I look at my life, there is so much to be thankful, grateful and appreciative of.

Allow me to list just a few of these elements:

  • A stable family unit – a community leader father, a sweet & loving mother, and a self sufficient younger brother
  • A close-knit group of friends, all of whom are quite respectable people in their own right
  • Working in desired industry and making a name for myself, thanks to my iconic self-branding
  • Relatively fit and coordinated in comparison to a lot of my other friends
  • Decently intelligent, with a focus on quick-analysis and rapid problem solving
  • Live in a prestigious and safe neighbourhood, with plenty of parks and shopping centres close-by
  • Owns a car with decent mileage
  • Does not have any physical defects or disabilities
  • Debt-free, with a decent income
  • Am decently popular with people, and with a reputation for reliability to boot.
  • Has access to a professional network that is quite influential in wider Victoria and a support network that is remarkably generous.
  • Has reasonably good taste in many cultural elements, from food to fashion and broader aesthetic appeal.
  • Am not terribly ugly
  • Am only attracted to healthy women, both mentally and physically
  • Blessed with a lack of curiosity regarding drugs, alcohol, nicotine and other narcotics
  • Seem to have a special relationship with Lady Luck but am not a gambler

When you look at my life, as a considerable whole …. there is very little to criticise. I’ve been extraordinarily lucky to have steered and be guided in all the right ways.

So why is it that I keep getting these urges to throw it all away?

When you have everything, there is this strange feeling that you should have nothing.

Perhaps this emotional response stems from the bizarre notion that maybe in life, I’ve made too many correct decisions, that I haven’t really fell from grace and had a proper chance to learn from my mistakes. I’m almost too responsible, too balanced to the point that I am seeking out cheap thrills to make up for some defect in me that is entirely made-up.

Because when you have everything, you start making up your own problems to solve.

If that concept is true, that I really have made too many right choices, then it would explain why the main complaint about my life is all centered around the notion of boredom.

Quos Deus vult perdere, prius dementat  – whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad.

And when you’ve made as many correct decisions as I have, and live such a sheltered life, it’s bound to get to you. I can’t seem to make mistakes, regardless of how terrible my life might be.

In some cases, even my most severe mistakes are covered off by Lady Luck herself.

Perhaps I am underestimating my own mental fortitude, that others might have fallen from grace even with all the opportunities I have, but I still haven’t quite found that challenge where I’ve felt like I had to give it my all.

It’s why the idea of starting afresh, alone, away and far from everything I’ve ever had seems so enticing. Because there is no greater challenge than trying to make something of yourself with a blank canvas.

I suppose that is why I find writing so soothing. Because I start with absolutely nothing but a blank piece of paper. It is starkly white, devoid of any creativity or thought. It is truly empty.

I’ve reached this strange crossroad in my life, where I feel this urge to just disappear and see what I am truly made of, without help or anything comfortable. It’s strange to reject such a wholesome, perfect lifestyle where I am truly blessed with incredible people and opportunities but that is just how I feel.

I like to think that I am a self-made man. That I’ve gotten this far without any true assistance or hand-holding, that my mistakes were mine to make, my luck is mine to own and that my life is truly mine to control.

But the more I ponder about it, the more I can’t help but feel like I’ve been too lucky. Like the consequences for my life have not been severe enough. It is such a bizarre concept, that even now I have to admit that it sounds like I am making up more problems again, just to justify some stupid insecurity.

I just want to feel like my life is tougher than it currently is. It is hard to hear praise for my current lifestyle, without feeling like some imposter, like I haven’t really truly earned the compliments because deep down, I know I haven’t worked hard enough to deserve it.

I suppose it falls back to the question that I’ve always struggled to answer.

Do I work hard enough?

People around me seem to think so. They’re calling upon me to rest, to slow down and smell the roses.

But I don’t know if I am working that hard. It seems like everything comes so naturally for me. That I got plenty of down-time even during my shifts at work.

Perhaps it’s not work that I really want more of, but stimulation. I want to experience that rush of everything working perfectly in unison, mentally and physically more often. But too often it’s one or the other.

With event work, it’s generally more physically-intensive, whilst with my general hobby of writing, it is obviously mentally stimulating.

Where is the job where it becomes both? I already know the instinctive answer deep down, that I can only find that in the military, but I’ve put those dreams to rest already.

I know that the closest I am going to get to that rush of both mental and physical taxation, is when I can finally organise my own festivals without any interference. My ambition in that sense is still very strong. The desire to create an event that will be remembered and renowned the state over is still burning very brightly.

I just hope that my apparently endless good luck will allow me to keep this original idea to myself, before someone takes it and cocks it up.

However, back to the question at hand …. do I work hard?

If I said Yes … I don’t believe myself.

If I said No … I also don’t believe that either.

So like most of my life so far, it seems like I am merely coasting along, cruising on my luck and genetic talent …

It just feels so lazy, like I am not truly living life as I should be, working much harder to achieve my goals.

In a strange way, I envy so many of my friends for their daily struggles. Life for them, seem so much harder.

It looks genuinely more tiring, more energy is required to survive, whilst I am over here, merely getting by with ease, no problems or issues at all.

That is why when they praise me for seemingly having it all put together, I instantly feel like I am not worthy. I don’t struggle as much as they do, nor do I put in as much as they do.

I don’t suffer as much as they do.

I know … what a stupid problem to have.

These feelings of unworthiness are such a strange issue to have, in my seemingly perfect life, but like most insecurities, they eat away at you and will never quite fade away.

Still, in the broader context of things, it’s a lot better to always feel like you have to work harder, achieve more and be better than hold yourself on a pedestal.

So even now, these feelings can be seen in a positive light, an additional boost of motivation to be better, so that one day I can feel worthy of the things I’ve achieved.

Yeah …. I got too much going for me.


~ Damocles.

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