Growing Up
May 8th, 2024
I'm turning twenty-four years old in two months time. There are twenty-two year olds who have gone to war, screwed around, and lived life more than I could ever imagine.
In some vein, it's not wrong for me to recognize what I've done right. I did go to college. I am graduating within the coming weeks. I got my degree. I have a job lined up that will put me 95th+ percentile of income earner in the USA.
I have a loving family and group of friends I spend time with. I engage with my friends and volunteer in my community from time to time.
But it feels empty. It feels like I'm doing these things in an attempt to cure the noise in my head.
My friends who really know how pathetic I am number at one. I realize that most male relationships are ones of competition, strength, brotherly support, banter, and encouragement. All masculine traits that are good, but if you slip up in that regard, or show signs of not continuing that strength, you may be left alone.
It's pathetic how I still am. I am not honest with anyone, not like how I said I would be honest long ago.
Inflammation
I didn't eat any anti-inflammatory ingredients today, maybe I am relient on them now like a drug. My ginger, turmeric, and beetroot shots.
Maybe that's why I'm so negative.
Memes
I rewatched Metal Gear Rising Revengeance. I realize that I really am like Monsoon, and believe in the memes. Memes, or as I like to refer to them, abstractions, words, organizations that characterize and get passed around our world that really don't define any semblance of true truth.
The truth is it is as it is. But there's a bit of hypocrisy there, in that the very idea is a meme itself. There's no escape to the memes.
Maybe I deny the existence of a being without memes. Memes are crucial to our being. To try and become someone without memes isn't possible is it...
In other words, words are so contagious to our soul, they are the embodiment, there is no self or I or being without the words.
At least, no self-aware self.
Morality
A friend told me her sister was groomed as a child. I'll spare the details, but it enraged me. I was irritated.
"Why hadn't they reported him? He's likely grooming another victim." The thoughts flashed in my mind. I hate it so much.
How can they just let this guy get away with being an abusive groomer? It's absurd. I don't like criticizing victims, but they should take action.
And don't get me started on the guy. It's disgusting. I want to throw up. Men like that... what do they deserve...
My reaction to the whole ordeal made me realize I really do have a sense of morals. And that I'm... not that bad of a person.
Not a bad person?
Well, frankly I've never groomed a child. Neither do I have sexual impulses towards children. I barfed a little writing that.
I've also never felt the need to sexually assault a woman (apparently 1 in 5 women are sexually assaulted in their lives. 1 in 13 men.) Neither have I actually done so.
I've never sent a d*ck pic to a woman or anyone for that matter. It's disgusting that that would even cross a human's mind.
As a grown adult past the age of 18, I've never hurt anyone in these past six years violently or intentionally.
And frankly, I don't take advantage of the weak. Not that I'm ever much in a position to, but when I am, never. I suppose I would be a good leader in that regard.
Are CEOs egotistical assholes? Or are they empathetic psychopaths? Or are they just... people?
Notes for the Future
I wonder if I should act more my age. Less like a kid. More like... a grown ass man.
I wonder if I have Peter Pan Syndrome, or if I'm doing my part of the community.
I always wonder if what I'm doing is the right thing to do.
anime isn't real, artwork isn't warm
Have I been escaping still to the digital world? In denial of the real?
When the solution all along was to engage in the real, to do sports, to play the game, to lose, and to suffer, all of it---why was I never told that suffering was the life of it all---why was I never told that the game was there all along.
Art as a coping mechanism---a fantasy to blockade me from experiencing real life. Or was it an empathetic tool to soothe my sorry hurt feelings?
The serotonnin, the testosterone, the dopamine, the estrodial, the estrogen, the cortisol---all of it swirling through my veins as memes disintegrating my understanding of the world---chemicals whirling and whirling in tubular cylinder sickles shifting through the ebb and flow of the reality.
I... I think I'm gonna' go for a run.