Outlook Bleak, Feeling Hopeless

So not that I want to start this blog thing out on the wrong foot, but I’m just tossing this out there. I am suffering from a severe episode of depression right about now. For those who have been fortunate enough to not slip and fall into this deadly mire, steer clear of this and return on a more productive day.

So until I devise a pseudonym, I’m going to be very vague and say that when life hits, it hits hard. Sometimes it hits really hard. This is universal, so don’t let Instagram fool you into thinking that there are millions of people living the sweet life without a care in the world, all fucking giggles and sunshine. Instagram was designed that way on purpose to make you feel inadequate. When you feel inadequate, you feel empty inside. When you feel empty, you seek to fill that emptiness. You’ll fill it with stuff- clothes, gadgets, trinkets, shoes, food, gambling, alcohol, pills, dope- but at the end of the day, you’re still empty. However, this emptiness was born of inadequacy; an inadequacy that was manufactured by an app that comes standard on almost every Android device. You see where I’m going with this? You can fill in the rest.

As much as I’d like to just let myself sink into the depths of this quicksand known as depression and never emerge, I have people who are dependent on me and need me to perform as a functioning member of society. So alas, I trudge on and face the day, willing myself to persevere. That sounds absolutely stupid when I read that aloud, but it really is that difficult sometimes. Why do some people end up with a noose around their neck, a needle in their arm, or with brains splattered across the bathroom tiles, while some not only find happiness, but thrive in this misery?

Please don’t go

I have no idea what you did to end up here on my corner of the web, but for the love of [insert spiritual bargaining chip here] hang out for one second, comment on this post, and let’s get a thread going! I need to generate some kind of traffic here, before I find myself on the street. This page doesn’t really have a theme yet, but I’m into music production, artwork, gardening, home improvement… Shit, I’m into Brazilian fart porn, if that’s what you’re into. Just standby and comment on this post, and share with me how you came to find this page, while I come up with some content that will generate some kind of traction here. I would love to hear something.

Lucky You

So here you are, this is the end of road when it comes to relevant content that could possibly be of any use to you. I know that because this is my very first blog post, and I have yet to push this site into any one unifying direction. I still have not figured out what “my thing” is going to be. If anyone else has figured out how to live out the modern cliché of living life to the fullest, pass the knowledge, por favor, because I am in the dire midst of crisis that is about to consume me, and take my family down against their wills.

The enterprise organization which I had foolishly envisioned myself completing most of my years as a Telecom Analyst- a position which I struggled, but continuously improved- rewarded my hard work, loyalty, and dedication with reprimand, and what would eventually be termination, paperwork. Foolish endeavor number two was born of pride; I resigned with short notice before those assholes could so much as call me in for the “talk”- you know, the “it’s not you, it’s us” talk. I was not gonna give anyone the satisfaction of firing me. David Emerson doesn’t get fired, David Emerson fires himself!

Some of you (if anyone’s actually reading this) may be thinking, Dave, quitting is a good thing, right? That will look better on your resume. Wrong. People know, okay? Nobody quits their job without having another lined up unless they were getting canned anyway.

So, my first post on Breakaway is going to reveal my theme- keep a veteran from going homeless. That’s right I’m pulling that card. I don’t have any choice at this point; I am not talented  or gifted enough to become a model or make porn, and I am definitely no Walter White. Sure I could go pan handle like any other self-respecting bum, but what fun would that be if I just had the money handed to me? It is so much more exciting to remove any hint of humility I could pretend to have, and metaphorically grovel to the masses.

I have a wife, a kid, a mortgage, and a number of expensive vices the details of which I won’t bore you with. If not for me, a random blogger you just met, do it for my daughter! She’s so brave, I just don’t have the strength or courage to tell her we’re going to be homeless soon. She’s ten years old, has yet to even hold hands with a boy- are you going to stand by and watch her dreams get crushed as well?

I am now taking donations to keep this family sheltered, and keep this vaguely-themed blog going strong to fulfill another post, and another…. and another! etc. etc.