Finding Bliss

Some say that happiness is bliss. Some say that if one tries to find happiness they will only find disappointment. Some say that in order to be happy, one must find happiness within one's self. I say it's all a lot of crap.

I guess you can say that ever since that fateful evening in mid-March that completely turned my life upside-down has made me even more pestimistic about life, love, and happiness than I was before. I continue replaying the night in my head like a bad movie that you don't want to turn off because you paid $3 at Blockbuster and want to get your money's worth. I am plauged by "what if" senarios that haunt my dreams and thoughts: alternate realities of my life lived as if events were different; i had more money, I still had the girl of my dreams, I am what I believe to be happy.

I've had people ask me why I just don't find a new girl and move on with my life. What they fail to understand is that for someone who is manic depressive, self-loathing, and socially inept it is difficult to go out in public and talk to people they don't know. I have that voice constantly ringing in my ears, yelling phrases like "you're pathetic" or "why bother, they are just going to make fun of you behind your back" and even "you're worthless, and they know it". Honestly, why bother trying? And I don't want to be fed that "You never know what might happen" bullshit because I do know. Again, it might be me being pestimistic, but if you had the results in life that I've had with trying to be happy with who you are and where you go, you'll see the same damn things repeating themselves over and over again, like wave crashing against the rocky side of a cliff, oblivious to the fact that they can flow around to the other side of the island and continue their journey through the depths of the ocean.

Tonight I realized that my only real escape from life, from judement of others, and the hatered I harbor for my own personal existance is when I'm on a fencing strip, loaded with heavy woolen jackets and gloves, wearing a wire-mesh mask and holding a weapon in my hand. I feel nothing. The only thing I hear is the judge calling hault or fence. I only see the person standing in front of me; my opponent. Ready? Fence. Hault! Attack, parry, ripote...touch right. My point, yes! Ready? Fence. Hault. Attack, no, counter....touch left. Crap, oh well, let's go again. Why??? Why can I not live life like it were one big fencing strip? Straight line, no going around in circles or fancy bullshitting. You go, something doesn't work and you fail. You start over, again and again, sometimes getting the point, sometimes not. Those few points you lose are no big deal, you shurg them off. Sure, you get pissed about it from time to time but it just makes you try harder the next time around. You score that one special touch that you've been waiting for all day long and you yell out, "OH YEAH!" and pump your fist in the air triumphantly. Why?? Why can I not live life in this fashion.

My epiphany today was that I am a fencer, through and through. I am truely happy only when I'm in my gear, weapon in hand, and standing on a strip engaged in a bout. I'm glad when I to stand quietly to the side and observe others fencing, or when I'm sitting at home reading a book or letters and publications online about the sport. I supposed this is why I cannot find the passion to seek out love in my life every since Emily left me because in order to get over her, I turned to the way of the sword; I amped up my commitment to fencing. I am a fencer before anything else now, and tonight I realized that.

Fence well.