I’ve been having an ugly temper these days. Just this morning, I was on a brink of lashing out at any colleague that would speak to me. Barely held it together. I don’t feel so fatigue as I used to weeks ago, but still, my motivation and inspiration to write are low as ever. I thought once October – my favorite month when many of many favorite shows premiered – arrived, things would be better: I’d feel inspired, motivated, I’d write with passion, I’d feel happy.
Indeed I’ve been euphoric, especially on the days the new episodes come out, and just as the meaning implied in the word, my euphoria lasts as long as the length of one episode, 45 minutes at worst and one hour at best. Inspiration has come, trickling like black coffee, and motivation has remained insufficient. Every word I’ve written feels forced, as though I’ve tried too hard to create literature and ended up with something that looks like literature but empty otherwise. Writing has also become a tedious task that I don’t truly enjoy yet still have to do, or else I would have felt even worse. When was the last time I felt so crappy? I have no idea. Nevertheless, this is not something I rarely have. In fact, it – this grievous lack of inspiration and motivation comes on a lunar basics. I won’t blame it on my hectic schedule, because hectic it is not, as compared to my acquaintances’, nor will I blame it on my deteriorating relationships – they have never been exceptionally good regardless of the time. Even in their best, I still feel like something is missing, and that I am neglected. The attention-whore that I am.
Nevertheless, all I want is for it to disappear.
Five of Cups – A card that signifies difficulty, loss, and the challenges of dealing with that loss. The figure in the card wears a black cloak in which he hides his face in apparent despair. (www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/minor…of-cups/five-of-cups/)
I had a brief chat with her the other day, in which I demanded why she had ignored my text messages, or basically my every attempt to have a word with her. “I’ve been busy,” she replied curtly, a reply that only took up three single words in our mother tongue, two of which were already the nickname I called her. Too busy to even take a look at the phone screen and type a reply which wouldn’t take more than a few seconds. I got it. She didn’t have time. For herself, for me, for us. So I told her I wouldn’t bother her any longer, to which she didn’t reply. Oh well.
Like a break-up, don’t you think?
I spoke to my Elijah (the Tarot of Vampyres by Ian Daniels in case you’re curious) and while I was shuffling the cards, this particular one dropped out. The Five of Cups. How fitting.
Still, is our relationship already a loss? Again, I have no idea. I’ll think I’ll remain still, and waiting. If she ever wants my company again, sure, we’ll be friends again. We’ll be close, we’ll be open to each other, as we used to be. If not…
(The Five of Cups wasn’t the only card to indicate our relationship. I asked what she thought about me and once again, a card instantly dropped. Can you tell what it was? It was The Death. So she thought me morbid, which is quite true because ever since we first got to know each other, I’ve been a morose one, aimed with a mood that waxes and wanes like the moon, and she the cheerful, energetic one. Full of life and ambition. There were times I was envious of her. Our personalities clash and it comes as no surprise that she would find me a bore some day.
That day had come.)