Swamp of Sadness
By Andy Heath
Last weekend I had the opportunity to re-watch one of my favorite childhood movies, The Neverending Story. I have always been one to live in a bit of a fantasy world, so I can certainly relate to Sebastian's pain of not being able to keep his feet on the ground. In the movie, the character Atreyu and his horse Artex trudge through the Swamp of Sadness, where if you let the sadness of your surroundings overtake you, you will sink into it and drown. This happens to Artex, and nearly happens to Atreyu, who is eventually rescued by Falcor, a luck dragon.
Sadly in real life, we often don't often have a Falcor to come to our rescue. I look around myself and at my life, and I realize that I have been sinking deeper and deeper into the proverbial Swamp of Sadness for years. It is horrible because it's a slow death. But death does eventually come. I can never hold a job. I get mad at unfair bosses and crappy work. I say to myself, "I'm better than this!" But it never does any good. I sink deeper and deeper into this swamp.
Oh, I don't think my concerns are unfair. I really do often work for crappy bosses. I do often have crappy work to do. But that's just part of the reason that I sink further and further. Now I find myself unemployed again; and again, it wasn't unreasonable for me to leave my job. My boss was disorganized, incompetent, and just plain mean. And those are some of his better qualities. But eventually, I find, if you don't have any money, you lose every material thing. Eventually my mother will have to stop helping me. Eventually there will be no money left. Yes, I can live in my car for a while, but what then? What happens when the car stops running? What happens when I can no longer afford gas?
"Oh, but Andy, you're a good writer! You should get a job writing." There are no jobs writing. Good writers are a dime a dozen. Good writing positions are often filled based on politics rather than merit. Most good positions, for that matter, are filled based on politics rather than merit. This is not me trying to whine; this is a simple fact. Do you deny it?
We live in a hostile world. Animals know this. Animals die every day from the cold or from a predator or from lack of food. So too will I die. It will take a long long time, but it will happen. My mother will beg me to come back and live with her, but this time I won't. I will watch as my world crumbles around me, watch as I lose everything except my intrinsic qualities that cannot be taken from me. But even those intrinsic qualities cannot stop my demise. Yes, I will die, and I'm ready. I'll be kicked out of my apartment in a matter of weeks. I will have no food and no shelter. Yes, the elements will take me. I'm going to die, and I finally realize that fact after years of sinking further and further into this swamp.
People will ask if I am suicidal. No, I'm not. Who needs to commit suicide? Why would I want to pay that karmic debt when nature will do exactly the same thing? People will tell me I need an anti-depressant. Maybe if I eat enough of those, I won't be hungry. I doubt, however, that they will do any real good.
My demise can take months longer, maybe even years longer. But I finally realize after my years of arrogance and hubris that I am not all that great. My education, my accomplishments mean nothing. No employer wants to talk to me. No one believes I have anything to offer. Yes, I know I can keep working for the temp agencies, continue working in these crappy, dead end jobs and working for low quality, worthless people. But maybe I won't this time. Maybe my final triumph, even in the midst of my demise, will be that I finally stopped playing this cruel game of life and simply said, "No more. I'm done."
And so I sink into this Swamp of Sadness until there is nothing left of me. I honestly don't think Falcor is coming this time.
