Complaining
February 21st, 2023
I feel like complaining. A lot.
God. My self-loathing is awful to exist in.
I really feel like Asa. Who gives a shit? I'm just a horrible human being who doesn't give a shit about other people. It's only when I'm lonely do I go out and talk to people.
You know, if I have such anti-social tendencies anyway... isn't it best to just simply continue on as is?
There's no helping it, right? Better luck next life.
I tried to not be like this. But honestly, it seems like everytime I interact with others it just further solidifies me into an anti-socialite.
Gold?
I started watching Asmongold on YouTube. He's made me realize something. That you can do fuck all and still be happy. It's a mindset.
So what if I'm a loser regarding relationships? When did I decide that it mattered that much?
And Diogenes lived in a fucking bowl. So what if I live in my mum's basement?
The only issue is that I'm not happy. I'm not happy because...
Why again?
Gratitude
Just thinking more makes me hate myself, y'know? I was thinking, given a platform on the web for thousands to read, what would I write? Frankly, it looks like I just write about how much I hate myself. Makes me wonder what kind of person I am. "Lanhful the Worthless Sack of Shit."
The more I think, the worse it gets. What kind of worth I have to this world. What's out there, really. For me. For others to get out of me. It feels like I'm worthless. A bother. Injustice. Trouble.
The only issue, is that I can't come to terms with it. Me, blessed with this middle-class upbringing. With all this goodness bestowed upon me. And I can't come to terms that I'm a total asshat. I can't even genuinely thank the Lord for the food in my stomach.
Maybe it's because I haven't suffered enough. That I'm some spoiled child that takes everything for granted. That I haven't hit true rock bottom. Maybe if I starve myself again, I'll come to terms with how rotten I am?
I hate this life. I will never have children and drag them here with me. This is horrible. Such a horrible fate. And yet, I feel nothing at all anymore. These words I type feel like lies sewn into the page. It's as if nothing mattered. Perhaps my subconscious has had enough, and decided to shut off the emotions in a last ditch mode of self-preservation.
And of course, in times like these, it is important I do not bother the people around me. It's just trouble, you know? These are the times, when I hang my head down low, when my head becomes a good target to smack. My mother used to "wake me up" from looking so "sad and depressed." She'd grab my hair and slam me against the wall. "Why would I make a face like that?" She'd ask. Why was I making her look like "a bad mother"?
Why am I remembering this now? Y'know Lanhful, a lot of people go through troubled childhoods. I'm not sure that telling others or yourself is going to do you any favors.
But I guess, it's proof I still have a sense of self-preservation. My instinct to not seek help is rooted in avoiding pain. But, doesn't that mean I still care for myself? If I still avoid pain?
And, that means I've got to keep going. To live a good life. Maybe a less serious life.
Maybe, if my life were deemed "loser" and "forfeit," I'd find it in me to stop caring so much and live like Denji.
Childhood
A lot of our behaviour stems from childhood. Our need for acceptance. Our need for love and compassion, and all that bullshit.
I was thinking. Do I really have a need for my parents' acceptance?
Rather, isn't that rooted in my base sense of self-preservation? The only reason I sucked up to my parents for twenty-two years is because they'd beat and starve me if I didn't.
In fact, doesn't that sucking up nature go for everyone then? That I feared if they didn't like me they'd beat and starve me?
In that case, why do I care about people then?
And if I'm really feeling so repressed and upset, why don't I just express it?