Raw Feelings
July 27th, 2024
I think if by any merit, the very least this shitty diary of mine has are my strong and raw feelings. I'm teetering on the edge of true adulthood and being a grumpy old man, and looking back, I'm nostalgic and happy I experienced such strong emotions when I was younger. It really is the epitome of youth to feel strongly about someone, so much that they dominate your headspace for what seems an endless eternity.
I'm going to move out in two days. My flights been booked. I'm out of my parent's control, and I'm gaining my freedom. I paid very dearly for it, giving up my sense of self and self-responsibility for my decisions (in other words, I'm a spoiled child,) but the financial burden that many young people have to combat at the start of their lives is not something I'll have to experience.
Did I make the right decision, sacrificing my autonomy, my freedom, for the money my parents give me? For my parents' happiness?
Tomorrow is my birthday.
Growing Dependent on Others
When I first moved out, I realized how codependent and emotionally demanding I am to random people and strangers around me. I'm just beginning to learn how to be emotionally dependent and stand my ground at the ripe age of twenty-four.
I realize now, how irritating I am to do that to others. At the very least, I should stand my ground and not burden others like that. For example, not to sit there and cry or sulk whenever I do something wrong like some man-child.
I realize now, in hindsight, why I never dated anyone. Well, I always knew my character was flawed. I've always felt and known that to some extent, but this is now in a constructive manner why that is the case.
With the sad music playing in the background, I feel like I need a smoke thinking thoughts like this.
Sex
The vast majority of people my age have had sex. Am I loser in that regard?
I guess so. It really depends on the way you look at it. But, in regards to a description of the human condition, my lack of companionship and sex is reflective of a life lacking in something so important.
I still don't understand the love songs that play on the radio or my Spotify playlist to their full extent. I don't understand what they mean by breakup, by obsession, by happiness being together with someone.
But, that's my life experience. That's fine.
Maybe it's time I base my life around something besides family considering I'm on course to never have one.
Money
I confess that all my attempts to make money haven't been for myself. I don't care about having money. I don't even personally care about having a house, or any material wealth for that matter. It wouldn't matter if nobody but me is living in that four bedroom million dollar house.
None of it matters unless I have a family to spend it on. That's what I sincerely believed up to this point. Going out, getting a high-paying tech job, meeting and networking with people, all of it, all of it was just so that I could prepare for the next stage of life.
I'm starting to understand where those guys who donate to streamers thousands of dollars are coming from. Men who prepared all their lives to raise a family, but found themselves morally and personality-wise incompetent or an eye-sore.
Now that it's finally dawning on me, that I'm personally going to spearhead myself into the next stage of my life, what the hell am I doing it all for? My parents already have a nest-egg for their retirement. All my family members are financially secure themselves, and I assume their children will be too. What is it? What's next? What the hell is it for?
WHAT THE HELL IS IT FOR? WHY AM I WORKING SO HARD? WHY DO I NEED MONEY?
I guess the teenager who's trying and crying his hardest is still buried underneath it all. I'm just so sick and tired of it all, damnit...
I'm just not feeling well. I'm feeling alone and like a loser. Like, whatever I am, is just not acceptable for the greater society, that whatever I am now, it's not enough, and that my contributions to society will never amount to enough. I'm just, I'm just, I'm just awful. What am I doing for my people? What am I doing for my fellow people? My community? Nothing? Nothing at all?
Why had I never dated anyone? Why had I never gone and sought out love? Why was I so afraid? Why am I such a horrible, horrible person? I can't take it anymore. I can't take thinking about this anymore. Why am I alone? What am I doing wrong? What do I need to change about myself to be acceptable, to be enough for someone to love me?
I'm willing to scorch the earth or run into a minefield if someone would choose to love me. It would mean the world to me as I am now, and I am beginning to recognize that mindset is the very thing that is stopping me from engaging in any normal life in this world.
My inner thoughts are so heavy. Why would I ever, ever, tell anyone these things? Why would I burden them? It's my problem. I have to deal with it. That's what it means to be born male.
Not Helping Other People
I guess my issue at the end of it is, I have an in-born need to help people, and I feel disgusted with myself if I'm not doing that.
I think having sex and having someone love me is just validation at the end of the day. What I'm really looking for is to be useful to someone else, because damnit, I'm so damn useless as I am now. I don't make people smile, I don't help people, I don't do any of it. I'm just so damn, damn useless.
I should go to church and do some community service. Maybe I'd feel better about who I've become. I wouldn't mind being an emo, disgusting, loser virgin for the rest of my life if it meant that I could be worth some value to somebody.
I still dream of running into a firefight and sacrificing myself. It's not normal to idolize that behaviour, and extremely indicative of mental illness, but it's still the daydream I find myself in from time to time. If a war broke out, somehow, even with my cushy, well-paying job, I might consider joining the military. They probably wouldn't want someone like me though.
I'm disgusting, I'm okay, I'm disgusting, I'm okay, I'm great, I'm disgusting, the cycle just goes on over and over again.
People Looking
Sometimes I'll catch a cute girl looking at me. I'll look away just as much. Does she like me? The thought appears in my head. She must like me if she's looking at me, or at least considers me attractive, right? I think to myself.
Then the real thoughts come to mind, the thoughts that make me realize it's all in my head. She was just looking at people around. My perception is off, it's narcissistic. I'm disgusting for even thinking that way.
I catch myself looking at pretty girls in public. I catch myself looking at their faces, their butts, their boobs, their hair, all of it, looking up and looking down. And this feeling of disgust wells up inside of me. I want to gouge out my eyeballs and yank the cords. It's disrespectful, and she's just trying to shop for fucking groceries, and yet I do it.
The amount of seething hate and disgust I have for myself is immense. I just hate who I am and what I do. Turning to alcohol and drugs won't save me, but I understand the temptation. It's nagging me in the back of my head. I'm just, I'm just, I'm just awful. I'm disgusting.
What should I do to cure myself of perversion? Should I go to church and pray to God? Pray to the higher power to relieve myself of my disgusting nature? Why do I even treat women different to begin with? Why am I incapable of treating them as human beings? Why, why, why? Why?
Is it the food I eat? The decisions I make? Is it my upbringing? Is it my worldview? My perception? Is it my asthma? Is it not getting enough sleep? Is it socially learned behaviour? Why? Why, why, why, why? I'm so disgusting, yet what can I do? What should I do to change who I am?
I started to theorize it's because I don't see women within the same tribe as myself, so is it that I instinctually feel the urge to perv on them? What is going on? Why am I like this? I want to know, so I can cut that part off of me.
Fuck Reddit. If the world was filled with Redditors, not a damn thing would ever get done, and this world would implode in a negative, pessimistic ball of fury. I hate Reddit with a passion.
Self-Loathing of Extraordinary Amounts
Do you believe that every human being, from genes to environment to birth and life then death, deserves a chance?
What if a human being, so broken from the start, under stressors of a hard life, is unable to cope with the realities of life? Cope with their place and role in life?
Perhaps my role in life is to play the rich uncle, who's too much of an internal loser to ever marry and have a relationship. Perhaps that is the case.
I wonder what the future holds for me. When I was in fifth grade, I wondered what I would be like at the age of eighteen. When I was eighteen, I wondered what twenty-five year old me would be like. And here I am, approaching ever so faster than ever.
I wonder what I did to get myself here. Complaining with my words on some bummed out shitty blogpost, instead of using the years of my life with gratitude and giving to others.
Who I Am
I'm... I'm tired. I think I need to be more in control, and I need to exercise more and run more. No more of these endless complain-fests. I feel so disgusting with myself yet again.
I'm envious of people who experience love, but if that is fate, the only reply is to accept with open arms.
I must have a love of fate. For this is the life I live, and the life I have been granted. With such a gift, I must love and can only love. Amor fati.
If these are the feelings I experience, I must accept them with open arms. If this life is the life I am meant to live, then I must accept it with open arms. If these are the things I am meant to experience, then I must accept them with open arms.
Regardless if the experience is good or bad, I must accept. I have to. There is no other option but to accept. I accept the fate handed to me, and as I waddle on the path to obscurity, I pray that fate is kind.
My mother's teachings
When I was a boy, my mother would often take a two-by-four and smack me with it. She'd tap my head with the two-by-four like a gangster, asking if I thought I was so tough. If I still didn't comply she'd smack my butt with it. If I still didn't comply, then the back of my head would be next.
When I was a boy, my mother would drag me by my hair across the carpet. I'd get carpet burn, then she'd slam my head into the wall over and over until the tears made me blind. She'd ask me if I wanted to listen to her then. Through the choking of tears, I managed to whimper a yes. Then she told me to shut up and threw me to the floor.
When I was a boy, my mother took a hammer to my computer monitor. She slammed it to form two nice wholes from the back of the hammer. The monitor was thrown out a few months later.
When I was a boy, my mother held a blade against my neck. Her kitchen knife was sharp, and she had me pinned against a wall. Her left hand wrapped on my collar, and her right hand gripping a knife pressed against my neck. She asked if I wanted to die. Through choking and tears, I said no. She let me go and said stop crying.
When I was a boy, my mother taught me a lot of things.