[This is not a fun blog. Read it only if you enjoy reading text moaning.]
I sometimes wonder if I were completely alone if I would be happier. If I could somehow totally cut myself off—or at least cut myself off as much as possible—from people, would I be able to stop feeling so anxious and sad.
If you are hungry, the feeling can dissipate with time or distractions. The mind will start to only remind you that you are hungry once in awhile. If there is the smell of a good meal, however, that hunger is impossible to ignore. Recall the frustration of a meal someone else was eating which smelled so good, but you could have none of. I wonder if the same logic can be applied to loneliness.
The culture I live within tends to be a very 'give up' culture, and it's probable that I have been affected by it. Sometimes you will see people with a learning disability who give up entirely and stop trying. You see a person who does not attain immediately positive responses drop an artistic skill before they've had a chance to develop it. I try my best to fight against that temptation. I want to fulfill the ideal of 'persevering in difficult times.' Like that soccer song "Walk on through the rain," except I really like the rain so the metaphor has to understood through a fictional narrator who doesn't.
But it grates. I've spent my whole life living for tomorrow. The cliche 'live in the moment' doesn't work. The moments are miserable. Every last one of them. And suddenly I see things are getting worse. That tomorrow is a darker day than today. That I've already peaked and happiness will only become scarcer and scarcer.
In elementary school they told me high school would be better. In high school they told me university would be the best time of my life. This is the best time of my life? That's pretty sad. I know one is only rewarded with what one puts into life, but I think that like Diablo II the returns are diminishing. And the spell sucked to begin with. So hear I am, casting Telekinesis 500 times when I suddenly realise I'm not having fun killing monsters. I'm not having fun trying to cultivate friendships.
If you wanna learn about the intricacies of Pope's bowel movements, take a Specialization in English as your major. I don't know how that knowledge is going to be useful to me when applying for jobs, but I'm guessing most people don't know what English at a university level really is. I'm guessing that when I apply for jobs they'll think 'well, he can write essays, so he can probably summarise shitty government documents as well.' That's the kind of job I'm destined for. I will get to spend my days summarising the intricate details of some government official's bowel movements, and then come home to reflect on what a worthless human being I've become.
For some reason I'd thought I'd like English. I thought it would be the most applicable thing to a person with writing aspirations to go to. If nothing else it'd force me to read a lot. I even paid 65 dollars or something to switch my degree (from worthless Social Sciences, to worthless English). I sometimes think it would have been nice to have Asian parents to force me to do math and science, but I suppose the grass is always greener. There were gimmicky English courses which I really liked when I took them as electives as a Social Science major, but the real English courses, the mandatory ones, are a load of horse shit. A load of horse shit which costs 6000 dollars a year. Don't get the impression I've read much just because I've taken an English degree. With my professors each expecting me to read a book a week, I tend to be forced to use summaries.
So in April or so, I thought to myself, 'damn.' 'If I don't do something fast, I'm gonna end up alone in an apartment working a shitty job and cursing my existence.' It's a future that's hard not to envision. So I thought, okay, I've had my idea for my book for like two years, it's reasonably fleshed out... This is one of the last chances I'm gonna really have to get this thing done. If I don't get it done this year, it'll probably never happen.
This is becoming my tedious life story. I apologise. I wrote my book and finished early August, I didn't really feel too relieved, and only 2 out of 15 people who begged me for a manuscript bothered to read the damn thing after all these months. Needless to say I feel pretty shitty about that. Before I'd finished my book I'd been thinking 'what if I die before I finish my book? What if I die before I've written anything significant. I have to do this before that happens.' I'd been thinking about my book more or less daily for the last two years. Want to know something sad? The person I dedicated it to didn't bother to read it either. That person would rather spend dozens of hours watching shitty television shows, apparently, despite nagging me to get a copy of the manuscript. Do people think that's flattering? Especially when I am reluctant to give it to them in the first place? And I ask them not to take it if they aren't going to read it? I'm rambling. Regardless, the two people who read my book were my brother, and my grandma. My brother wasn't working and has been doing nothing for the last half a year (well, from August), and my grandma is retired and had just had some surgery which required her to do nothing for awhile. They said it was good, but then what else would they say to me? "Oh, it's good, but it's not good enough to take priority over literally anything else" is what I take from the 2/15 statistic.
It's depressing, you know. I really want to write something valuable. My first book, of course I didn't expect it to be the greatest thing ever, but this kind of response... 'it's not even worth reading' is an ego crusher when I've been developing my skill with short stories for the last few years.
I've gotten really off track. What was it Hot_Bid said in another thread? I normally am not the guy's biggest fan, but "The strength and weakness of being single is that nobody cares what you do" was pretty accurate. My conundrum is that trying to get someone to care what I do is a painful process, and one that I consistently fail to achieve. That's what I was getting at with the give up musing. It's likely I have a number of psychological disorders, and I desperately work to fight inclinations in myself that are clearly not normal, but it seems so fruitless. I wonder if I just stopped trying to get people to care, if I'd feel better that no one did. I could continue to focus on my writing. Who cares if I can't write about mutual love? (I tried in my book, lol). There are other things to write about.
"Dun dun dun" you say, "it's a girl blog!" No, fuck you. I just want someone to give a damn about what I'm doing, we don't have to have sex. Hell, these days you can have sex without caring about what the other person is doing. I'm under the impression that's fairly common. I know that if I wanted to, I could have meaningless relationships too. Ask enough people and one of them is bound to say yes. I would be a psychopath if I could do that. Not to imply people who do are psychopaths, but I would, because I do not like it. I would be faking enthusiasm 100% of the time. It would be completely a game to see if I am right. The person I found would not matter.
You probably didn't notice, but I've tried a few times to totally murder my internet personality. I have a kind of fascination with suicide. Don't worry, I'm far too afraid to die, no matter how tired I am of living. That's a sentiment I borrowed from They Shoot Horses, Don't They? One of my favourite light novels simply because Gloria's character seems to resonate so realistically with me, at least with respect to suicide. What was I saying? Right. I tried to totally murder my internet identity. Partly because I've written a million embarrassing things on TL that I didn't want catching up with me if I were to ever become a successful writer (which makes it a totally invalid way of promoting myself), but also just because I am constantly desiring to severe all links. To get away from people as much as possible. I'm sorry to people who know me and have to deal with this, but I have a dramatic personality and sometimes it manifests itself into action. Something that scared me, a little, was that I've been to the Ottawa LAN, so the people from there, although they don't know my last name, are most able to connect my internet identity with my real one.
Then after some months I watch an amazing StarCraft game and feel inspired to write about it. Obviously the only place that wants to read such things is TL. Little by little my internet identity is resurrected until it's almost as if it never died. That's sounds like an exaggeration, and it is, but I had to apologise to some people who at least feigned concern. Of course, those links are forever damaged regardless.
Now I'm writing a comedy novella because I thought I needed to think of funny things in order to become more positive about life. It's funny, but I'm not more positive about life. "You've got your whole life ahead of you" people say, as if it wouldn't terrify me.
If you read this whole thing, I don't know what is wrong with you, but I appreciate it.