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In love and war, all is pain
2 months ago
General
So, with a new year, it's a new me, right? New troubles digging themselves up, more like. I know it's my own problems, I caused them myself and no one else. In fact, my life is only my life, my perception is only my own perception. The solitude of that sentence makes me feel scared. I feel really frightened in life. I don't know. If I had an adjusted sense of what's real, safe and tangible, I'd feel a lot better. I wouldn't have to play guessing games and be a nervous wreck trying to predict everything in existence. Prediction to save myself pain. I fear pain. I fear life because it means pain.
I tried to accommodate this by relying on others, on people and institutions, on my own skills, on bracing myself before every interaction. It always failed. I always failed and made me paranoid and worried. Whether someone or something was trustable enough, if their smile or politeness was a good indication whether I would be cared for, whether I micro-managed every step correctly as they expected. To me, life was always a calculation of expectations, a trade of competence and paying attention to not hurt others. Any other type of life or interaction was unimaginable.
And then I hurt others anyways. I feel hurt anyways from living and breathing. I can't fucking deal with this. I can't. As soon as the blinds go to the sides, I feel the fucking panic. I feel like I can't get a grip. Like the utter reason behind everything will always be "You need stability NOW" and it's overriding my long-term reason. And it's silly because I know that it's unreasonable. I lie in a warm, cozy home with electricity, water and protection against the elements. I live in the first world. I should be thankful. I can't complain.
And even so, even if I have this, I wake up alone one day while she's gone outside and gain an unshakeable feeling that there won't be a good ending to all of this. I pet some animals, I eat food, I lay in bed for just a bit longer. And it doesn't fucking go away. Whatever I've done in my life and desperately tried to play along with that transactional mode of communicating and playing along with other humans, regardless what I tried from start to end. It never made it better. Maybe with intense positive feelings, but of course, those are always temporary. Life feels temporary. And I accepted that too.
My emotions may be just temporary, my mistakes may be just a product of figuring things out. But is that really what my heart says too? Sorry for the cliche, but is life is really just about suffering like that? Maybe it's a stop-over, a weird in-between space in my life after I've spent time ripping out whatever the fuck constellations of "supposed to"s that I've had all of my life. Maybe it's the weird time before I finally let myself either blossom in to a purer, kinder, gentler person OR if I just quit it all. I'm too scared to do it. I don't. Life can be beautiful. People can be kind. Emotions can be wonderful. Right? Right???
What am I even saying. It's all a bunch of nonsense theories and stacked logical explanations to the life that I failed to figure out on my own. The situation is simply this: it's a case of not touching grass enough. I didn't care for myself out of fear for a decade. I did what I thought was right and fucked myself mentally in the process. I burned bridges and look like a pathetic, abusive, toxic and hypocritical person. I became a warning sign to others.
Whatever, self pitying is such a fun way to avoid responsibility, so the next question is, what the fuck do I do? I can't be with people. I broke up with them both. There, now they don't have to deal with my emotional problems anymore. I can't go outside. I'm fucking paranoid as fuck. I'm worried every single person is going to hurt me, mentally, emotionally. Making connections is impossible, and haha, I should "know better" for my fucking age. I can't fucking work. I tried working what I could and in the end, I got fucked by it anyways. I can't accomplish scheduled things reliably. I can't, and don't want to, participate in society, or its rules, or its things. I don't want to participate in these pointless fucking traditions, forced events and gatherings. I feel stateless without a home. I don't have "a home country" to feel at home in. At most, it's this apartment I live in.
On the flip side, I have passions and loves for certain ideals and actions. But how do I actually make it work in real life? There's a lot of fear speaking in place of me, I know, I know. A constant barrage of "what ifs". But if you asked me what I really wanted, without any of this fucking trouble I clung myself to, I would.... I would want to live alone. Let me exist and live in fucking peace. Let me experiment and learn things at my pace and how I want without a barrage of critique or mean words. Let me make games when and how I want. Let me draw uncomfortable and inappropriate things. I'm not fucking hurting anyone. I never wanted to. I said some ugly words and hurt people sometimes, mostly out of attachment issues, fear, and paranoia. Trust me, I punish myself over my past mistakes already. Every day, actually.
I want to be a good person, I'd rather be a good person than giving it all up. Not once in my life was I lazy in any regard, sure, maybe lazy in terms of participating in society and accomplishing all the typical achievements, but I never wasted time on fucking consumption like the rest of "functioning" humans. I built a fucking game. I BUILT A FUCKING GAME. FOR FREE. FROM SCRATCH. I RELEASED IT FOR FREE. I built many things over time that I could've monetized, but I never did, because I always had you, the user, the player, on my mind, how you'd feel, how you'd improve. I'm cursed with a nice ability to emphasize and I enact on those feelings even if they fuck me in the end. And yet I'm the bad one. sorry, should I exploit others instead?
I just want to crawl in to a hole and be by myself. I don't want to keep fucking trying to fulfill Mr/Ms Stranger's ideas of what it means to be a good person and attain what they think is a fulfilling life, I know the only way for me to be a good person is for me to be as unapologetic and straight forward person as I can be about myself. That's what I've been trying to fucking do since the last journal. Every day, I try to wake up and think to myself, what do >>i<< want? what do >>i<< need to make myself happy so I don't fuck it all up again? Because now I know what it means to lie to myself and be someone I'm not. It means that I hurt people I once loved.
I tried to accommodate this by relying on others, on people and institutions, on my own skills, on bracing myself before every interaction. It always failed. I always failed and made me paranoid and worried. Whether someone or something was trustable enough, if their smile or politeness was a good indication whether I would be cared for, whether I micro-managed every step correctly as they expected. To me, life was always a calculation of expectations, a trade of competence and paying attention to not hurt others. Any other type of life or interaction was unimaginable.
And then I hurt others anyways. I feel hurt anyways from living and breathing. I can't fucking deal with this. I can't. As soon as the blinds go to the sides, I feel the fucking panic. I feel like I can't get a grip. Like the utter reason behind everything will always be "You need stability NOW" and it's overriding my long-term reason. And it's silly because I know that it's unreasonable. I lie in a warm, cozy home with electricity, water and protection against the elements. I live in the first world. I should be thankful. I can't complain.
And even so, even if I have this, I wake up alone one day while she's gone outside and gain an unshakeable feeling that there won't be a good ending to all of this. I pet some animals, I eat food, I lay in bed for just a bit longer. And it doesn't fucking go away. Whatever I've done in my life and desperately tried to play along with that transactional mode of communicating and playing along with other humans, regardless what I tried from start to end. It never made it better. Maybe with intense positive feelings, but of course, those are always temporary. Life feels temporary. And I accepted that too.
My emotions may be just temporary, my mistakes may be just a product of figuring things out. But is that really what my heart says too? Sorry for the cliche, but is life is really just about suffering like that? Maybe it's a stop-over, a weird in-between space in my life after I've spent time ripping out whatever the fuck constellations of "supposed to"s that I've had all of my life. Maybe it's the weird time before I finally let myself either blossom in to a purer, kinder, gentler person OR if I just quit it all. I'm too scared to do it. I don't. Life can be beautiful. People can be kind. Emotions can be wonderful. Right? Right???
What am I even saying. It's all a bunch of nonsense theories and stacked logical explanations to the life that I failed to figure out on my own. The situation is simply this: it's a case of not touching grass enough. I didn't care for myself out of fear for a decade. I did what I thought was right and fucked myself mentally in the process. I burned bridges and look like a pathetic, abusive, toxic and hypocritical person. I became a warning sign to others.
Whatever, self pitying is such a fun way to avoid responsibility, so the next question is, what the fuck do I do? I can't be with people. I broke up with them both. There, now they don't have to deal with my emotional problems anymore. I can't go outside. I'm fucking paranoid as fuck. I'm worried every single person is going to hurt me, mentally, emotionally. Making connections is impossible, and haha, I should "know better" for my fucking age. I can't fucking work. I tried working what I could and in the end, I got fucked by it anyways. I can't accomplish scheduled things reliably. I can't, and don't want to, participate in society, or its rules, or its things. I don't want to participate in these pointless fucking traditions, forced events and gatherings. I feel stateless without a home. I don't have "a home country" to feel at home in. At most, it's this apartment I live in.
On the flip side, I have passions and loves for certain ideals and actions. But how do I actually make it work in real life? There's a lot of fear speaking in place of me, I know, I know. A constant barrage of "what ifs". But if you asked me what I really wanted, without any of this fucking trouble I clung myself to, I would.... I would want to live alone. Let me exist and live in fucking peace. Let me experiment and learn things at my pace and how I want without a barrage of critique or mean words. Let me make games when and how I want. Let me draw uncomfortable and inappropriate things. I'm not fucking hurting anyone. I never wanted to. I said some ugly words and hurt people sometimes, mostly out of attachment issues, fear, and paranoia. Trust me, I punish myself over my past mistakes already. Every day, actually.
I want to be a good person, I'd rather be a good person than giving it all up. Not once in my life was I lazy in any regard, sure, maybe lazy in terms of participating in society and accomplishing all the typical achievements, but I never wasted time on fucking consumption like the rest of "functioning" humans. I built a fucking game. I BUILT A FUCKING GAME. FOR FREE. FROM SCRATCH. I RELEASED IT FOR FREE. I built many things over time that I could've monetized, but I never did, because I always had you, the user, the player, on my mind, how you'd feel, how you'd improve. I'm cursed with a nice ability to emphasize and I enact on those feelings even if they fuck me in the end. And yet I'm the bad one. sorry, should I exploit others instead?
I just want to crawl in to a hole and be by myself. I don't want to keep fucking trying to fulfill Mr/Ms Stranger's ideas of what it means to be a good person and attain what they think is a fulfilling life, I know the only way for me to be a good person is for me to be as unapologetic and straight forward person as I can be about myself. That's what I've been trying to fucking do since the last journal. Every day, I try to wake up and think to myself, what do >>i<< want? what do >>i<< need to make myself happy so I don't fuck it all up again? Because now I know what it means to lie to myself and be someone I'm not. It means that I hurt people I once loved.
Hello. If you'd like to chat about paranoia, sudden outbursts of hatred, emotional atrophy, and the burning of bridges, send a request to Discord or Telegram. I experience similar states, but they happen less frequently and aren't as intense as yours. If you remember me, I participated in the first jornal of Kemotek collection. I wish you all the best.
