Observations pertaining to the Transient Self-Destructive Impulse (Or, I just wanna get drunk and do something stupid)

Have you ever wanted to do something really self destructive just to see if you were still alive?

What can I say, the springtime always makes me nostalgic and irritable and weird... I think it must have something to do with all the hormones and pheromones that people and other animals release at this time of the year.

It's just that, tonight I was talking with someone and it hit me that I can't really claim any title on this current life.

I mean, I work, I breathe, I eat, I shit...

I fulfill all the basic requirements of life, but I don't know if that counts.

See my life has no real impact anymore, for good or bad.

I'm a non-entity.

Let me explain.

At the time that I write this, it's been eight years since the last time I had a physical altercation with anyone. It has been ten years since anyone tried to commit serious violence on my person, twelve years since I have received a serious credible threat, five years since I've had even a minor work related injury (not even a cracked rib in all that time... I must be slacking). I haven't eaten a hamburger in over a year. I haven't been in what you could call a relationship in seven years. I haven't mailed an actual letter to someone in five years, haven't walked on a beach in a year and a half, haven't attended a wedding in two and a half years, haven't attended a funeral in six years. I haven't had sex in four years five months one week and three days. I haven't been drunk with friends in two years. I haven't been drunk alone in almost a year... In the last two years I haven't traveled more than forty miles in a single day (that use to be my commute), nor have I attended a live musical performance. I can count the number of times in the last year that I've gone anywhere solely for entertainment sake on one hand. I haven't attended a class, taken a photograph for my own purposes, or just spent an afternoon sitting in the sun reading a book in almost seven years. I haven't taken more than three consecutive days of vacation time (not counting time taken for illness or unemployment) in twelve years, and I can count the number of two day weekends I've had in the last twelve months on both hands. Aside from co-workers (and with the exception of certain family members) there are possibly four people out of the seven billion on the face of this planet who might notice if I disappeared tomorrow, and at least two of them probably wouldn't give a shit. Over the last dozen years or so I seem to have withdrawn, shut down, become increasingly unwilling or incapable of interacting with the world in any meaningful way...

I don't know why.

And I'm not putting this here to be whiny, or to try to gain sympathy, or because I am ungrateful for the life that I have been given, or because I don't understand just how bad it is for the other 99% of the worlds population...

I'm just trying to figure out when I, apparently of my own free will, stopped being a person.

I'm trying to remember why.

And I'm beginning to suspect that there's absolutely nothing I can do to change it.

And I'm beginning to wonder if I should even be allowed to.