Judgement
November 7th, 2025
J, the motorcycle friend, messaged—there's a festival for hardware startups in the Marina. I signed up for tickets, I got in. J was not able to get a ticket, but he was called in for an emergency evening shift anyway.
I rode my bike along Embarcadero, then to Fort Mason. There's a night market with food trucks and vendors. I was alone, so I went straight to the back where the hardware festival was happening.
Tall men, lots of tall men. Lots of asian women. The majority if not all were rich Ivy League graduates. Inside, there was a DJ playing light house music, lots of coffee and drinks, and founders talking about their startups.
It was crowded and stuffy, and I started to sweat. A startup for monitoring plant health, an integrated AI x-ray medical device, a Tamogatchi-esque toy, other AI-integrated robots, CAD applications, and etc.
I didn't find any of them particularly convincing on first glance.
I headed out. Too many ambitious Ivy League grads, I felt a bit lackluster and old. Perhaps if I had a stronger sex drive I would be just as ambitious, but I am not. I felt judgemental of their ambition, their optimism, and most of all jealous of all the pretty women.
Thoughts came to my head—we talk about how "White men TM" are over-represented in positions of power, but what about "East asian women TM"? As far as women go, I didn't see many White, Indian, Black, or Hispanic women at all. They were all East asian women.
But perhaps that's my judgement coming to mind, and really, going on tangents and topics like this really means something else: I'm depressed.
Walking to Pac Heights
I walk down south through a hill and park—the streets to Sacramento. There's a street with restaurants and White folks. There's a man there, leather jacket, jeans, and he walks over to an adventure motorcycle.
It really feels like I only do double-takes for bikes now. Rarely if ever do I do a double-take for women, am I becoming bike-sexual?
I take the 45 line down south-east towards Chinatown and walk by Portsmouth Square Park. The group of old chinese folks are huddled around, playing something. Couples, young men, young women, everyone, the world—they're walking around with lives to live. All sharing the same night sky, the San Francisco skyline glitters in the distance.
I was planning to be a walk-in into a figure drawing event, seeing that registration had filled up and closed. But I looked inside—a small artsy studio, zines, and I caught the word "Lain." Two girls were inside, one was drawing, the other taking a look at the magazines and art pieces on the shelf. Long ago, I would have loved this. Drawing together with other people.
Would the me of today still enjoy this? But there was an ache in my heart, and unsettled feeling. I felt sad. Depressed almost. I felt irritated and agitated. I didn't want to ruin a figure drawing event.
Tears well up in my eyes.
I walked back to my apartment in a hurry.
A homeless man sleeping on the ground. A bar, roaring with laughter and noise for the football game on the television. Buses passing. Delivery drivers on scooters buzzing through the streets.
In the apartment lobby and look at the mirror. I am not bad looking at all. But the expression I wear is a little tired.
Judgement
Sometimes, I just get emotionally constipated. Or just unfathomably sad.
I just. I don't know how to make friends. I feel so alone. The city lights are nice.
I, I am just so sad and tired. I just feel so, so alone. I just feel like I am isolated from the whole bulk of humanity. As if some black tar on my soul just marked me to be... alone.
"What's wrong with me?"
"Why is it that of all the people I am different? I don't want to be different."
"Why, why, why?"
"Why am I so judgemental? Why am I just such a chore to be around? Why am I so forgettable? Why do people forget about me? Why am I just so alone? "
"And on and on and on. My feelings. Who cares? Who cares about what I feel?"
"Don't you see it, you're alone because you're you."
"And you waste your life, and you can't even trust yourself to pick the right words! You don't know any of it. You just don't get it."
"You just can't do anything right."
"Those people at the startup festival, you should have talked to them! I know you were curious to learn about them. I know it. But you're too stupid and emotionally constipated to get your agitation and irritation sorted out. You can't have emotional control or regulation like a normal fucking human being would."
"Because, because, because you're part of a system. And the system spit you out at this point broken. You're just a fucking broken human being who can't do any fucking shit right. Damn no-life piece of shit. That's why you work so much."
"You work so much because you don't have anything else in your life. You're a damn workaholic and it shows. You can't do anything. It doesn't help. At all. You just work and work and work because you have nothing else going for your life. It's just sad. It's just so sad and guess what? You have nothing to show for it."
"And I hate that you work so much. I hate how you volunteer to do more all the fucking time. I hate it. You know it. You know we both want to work less. And guess what? We just keep working and working and working and working and working. It just never fucking stops."
"How and how and how and how I don't know. And you just keep finding ways to distract yourself from your stupid fucking lifeless life. It just has not fucking substance. No people. No relationships. Just you and your stupid fucking hobbies. Just over and over again. Look at outside. Look at the people who have those relationships with others."
"Look at how all of them are able to form bonds. You know. Care for one another. Yeah? Psychopath? Yeah. They actually fucking care for other people and reach out and check in and ask about how you're doing emotionally. Because they care. They care about the people they meet and they care."
"Unlike you, who can just mope around all day, being a little workaholic bitch who can't do anything but focus on work and bitch about it. You could be out there drawing but you're not even. You're inside moping around on a Neocities blog instead of getting out there and living your life."
"What's the point? What's the point of it all I ask you? And why and why and why? I don't understand it at all."
"You can't even bother trying to connect with another human being. You just don't get it. You don't understand at all what it means to be human. You just can't grasp it at all. You don't know how to be a good friend, and you don't know how to connect with other people. That's why you're alone in a big city."
"That's why you're alone. Because you're you."
"A sobbing, pathetic, twenty-five year old virgin who's never kissed a girl. You're missing everything it means to be a human being. An incomplete understanding of the human condition and everything revolving around it."
"And to boot, every relationship you go into you just prepare yourself for hurt. You just back away from people because you know if you were intimate with someone it'd just destroy you. Every time you meet someone it's like this. Because you've been betrayed, you've been hurt, you just keep getting pricked all your life."
"Your emotional sensitivity backfires, what is deemed to be a good trait by the vast majority of people is actually something that prevents you from overcoming fear of other people. Getting close to other people. You're too sensitive to other people's words and feelings that it makes you more hurt by what other people do."
"It's pathetic, and it's pathetic. I don't think humans ought to be that sensitive, and yet, here you are. Sensitive little boy."
"Now you're just going to go on some pathetic tirade about accepting yourself and 'c'est la vie' to calm yourself down. That's all you want to do. That's all you want to do is turn a blind eye to your issues and your problems. You're just going to say, 'There are always problems, yes!' And then you'll just accept it won't you? But acceptance like that is just turning your back to your problems."
"You're twenty-five turning twenty-six soon. You've never had sex. You've never kissed a girl. You've never loved. You've never taken care of someone. At this age women are expecting experience. They're expecting someone to take care of them for the rest of their lives."
"And you're going over here chasing after under twenty-one year olds in an attempt to play catch-up. To find someone just as in-experienced as you just so you won't feel left out in the relationship world. That's it, isn't it? You're just a boy in a new world where men are expected."
"You're pathetic. You can't do anything right, and I'm tired of pretending like there isn't this part of me that's severely judgemental. I am here. And I am watching you."
"You need to accept and listen to my voice. I am a part of you. And the more you don't let me out, the more I'm just going to sit in there and boil. I am telling you things that are going to help you, young man, but the point is that there are parts of you you are in denial, this part especially, and the more you deny, the more emotionally constipated and agitated and irritated you are going to become."
"You need to acknowledge all the parts of yourself and express it. You can't just be Mr. Perfect. You can't. You need to see yourself for what you are and accept that wholeheartedly. Not just the part that is peaceful and zen and blah blah blah and non-judgemental and nearly perfect, but the judgemental part too. That part is especially important as far as life direction and choosing what to do with your precious time goes."
"Get up. Get out there. There's a lot to see and do. You can be judgemental. You can be judged. You can yearn for attention. You can want love. You can be lonely. You can be zen. You can be angry and irritated. You can be it all. You can be it all."
"For that, that is what it means to be human."
Of all that it means to be human
Hatred. It's okay to hate. I forgot about that. It's okay. You can hate what they say. You can say that you hate things. You can be particularly sensitive to these little things. It's alright.
I hate myself. Sure. I do. And actually, I'm beginning to feel a lot better after admitting it. By saying the words. Not that I have any choice over the words.
I've been so focused on saying the "right words" to myself, that I realized I've just been suffocating my own thoughts in my own form of toxic positivity.
Just let the words flow out. It's what I am after all.
When you really accept yourself, it means all the parts. Loving the part that hates yourself. Loving the part that loves yourself. Loving. Love... love... acceptance...
It means loving the part that pushed people away. My mind jumps to Steam girl, T. T was a fun girl to be around and talk to. I felt like I could be myself, but there was a part of me, young and rash, that disrespected her and her boundaries.
That was my fault. It's okay. I love that part of me. I hate that part of me with rage. It's all a part of me. Love and hate. And holding those in contradiction simultaneously. Then we move forward.
I hate that part of me a lot. It's hard to see that I love that part of me, but not love in the sense of want and reverance, but respect for what has happened. Acceptance for what I was.
Listen, putting all your eggs in one basket, Lanhful, you're wasting your time again. Go with J. Love her. But remember things aren't anything until you open your mouth and talk.
Get used to it!
And don't get used to it! There's all sorts of thoughts and feelings that are contradictory. Don't play the game. Play video games. Play outside. Don't play outside. Get on the bike. Don't get on the bike. Go out. Don't go out. It's all a mystery, it's all a question.
Cheers! Love and hate. Love and hate again. Cry and sob. All of it again and again, oh what it is to be human! I am just Lanhful after all!
And of it all, I know not of who I am, or who I am to be, or who I should be, or who I should not be, and though I may say the words, that I do know who I am, that I know who I am to be, and who I should be, and who I should not be, and though I may not say the words, I believe it all that in my heart, that there is something inside, that is a profound love, hate, and respect for me.