I feel like I’ve lived ten million lives in an attempt to “find myself”—which is such a fucking scam btw, as if self-actualization is a single event, rather than a continual process lol. Perhaps it’s a flaccid attempt to feel included or accepted by whomever I find myself near, or maybe it’s some weird chase the dragon kinda thing where I need to experience everything before I eventually succumb to whatever lung or heart complication that’s eventually gonna get me. The sick and twisted reality is that I’m unlikely to feel included or accepted anywhere until I can get out of my own head and think clearly about what I’m doing, instead of endlessly ruminating on the potentiality of everything, like I always have.
I kind of miss my old toxic friend group, but despite how much fun I had during that time, the dull sorrow of being alone is much preferable than the misery of being fundamentally misunderstood by a handful of people trying to convince you that they knew you better than you knew yourself. I wouldn’t call it a waste of time, and I don’t regret much, save for a couple of nasty but clever insults I may have thrown. Theres not much I can do now, maybe time will heal, I still have a lot of love for those girls.
Every time I get in the weeds with my thoughts like this I crave some kind of output that will reify my thoughts and feelings in a satisfying way, but I’ve recently fallen out of love with making music, which is really depressing since that was like my whole thing for so long, and I keep putting off buying painting supplies.
It’s really hard to plan for the future when it feels like we are closer to nuclear armageddon than we are to socialist revolution—I have no interest in gaming the system or participating in it, but I do think the government should give me a monthly stipend for being a creative genius.
All this to say, shut the fuck up and get back to work.
しっかり。