Why do I have to cry within these four walls? I like to dress well because then people are nicer to me. I could use some niceness around me all the time. I want to scream. It aches. Everything aches. I'm so tired. What an utterly fucking pointless experiment — this human consciousness!
I want to pause this. Someone, anyone, how do I stop feeling these feelings. How come no one ever thought of a better word for it? Feelings? Really? It's perhaps the one thing that almost all art is fuelled by and none of us came up with a better substitute?
I wish I could tell you how much I want to hate you in this moment.
I want to be repelled by you.
I want to deeply dislike you,
your hair, your nose,
your forehead, your lips, your ears,
your pretty eyes.
I want to be repulsed by it all.
I want to not know you.
I want to never have known you.
I want to undo everything that happened
and go back to when I didn't know you existed.
I want to never have heard your sweet voice.
I want to have nothing to do with you.
Ever.
Distraction. The only thing that seems to work. And, it's absolutely my least favourite solution. But, it works.
I hate being a human. I strongly despise the emotions that I am compelled to feel. I wish I could turn them off. Strange fucking biology. What ridiculous phase of grief is that where you are jealous of them? I hate everything about this.
I don't like being a person. I'd much rather be a tree.
Take me to the bottom of the ocean. I want to sleep in peace.
There are several emotions churning inside me at this very moment. It doesn't feel all that great to be a human right now. I should perhaps, just follow my own advice and accept the fact that my locus of control ends with the boundaries of my body. All I can do is control how I respond. Maybe, take some time to process information and make a decision without waiting too long for neurotic what-ifs to take over.
I was doing alright for the past few days. I hope the two-week-long break will help reset me. The sadness is a weight. I try to compensate for its immense momentum by funneling additional mass from the certainty of my advice into all efforts to keep the melancholy still. I don't know why I believe that anchoring it will somehow make it bearable. Perhaps, it's because it turns the patterns in thought easier to domesticate.
You know those moments, when you're sure you'd feel better if you just cried it out? Yet, you just can't seem to cry?
I'm quite surprised that I still feel like this. This phase was supposed to be over. I've been infatuated before, specifically, to a construct that's some part the actual personality of the person and the rest composed of a projection of what I seem to be deeply attracted to. Maybe, I should try and understand the qualities I am attracted to. I could cultivate them in myself.
Then I would, perhaps, enjoy my own company a bit more.
Top Secret
It was quite liberating to let him know my dad was just a driver. That his job was chauffeuring around his rich bosses. It was something I've hid from friends for 30 years of my life. I felt light, in that moment. I was a bit nervous when this came up in conversation but I was just drunk enough to let it out. He was nice about it. I think it's because he's a nice man that I was comfortable enough to let the truth out.
Why did I lie to everyone for 30 years? Why could I never tell friends? Perhaps, I was embarrassed. But, how does a kid learn about socially embarrassing jobs that a parent could have? I was afraid of being ridiculed or outcast by my peers in school.
He said I'm a self-made man. I don't think I am. I don't think anyone really is. I owe a lot to the education that mum and dad provided for me and all the wonderful people I met who taught me so much about the world. He was the first person to whom I'm revealed this. Revealed, like I still assume it to be some sort of top secret. It's ridiculous and cathartic. It doesn't fucking matter what my mum or do and anyone does for a living as long as they are good human beings.
Thanks, mate.
I may have developed an unhealthy coping mechanism to being rejected. I channel my frustration into self-improvement. Every incident that has left me feeling like I'm not good enough, has led me to double down on my efforts to grow. It seems like a good approach to handling failure and rejection, and even though I pride myself for the things I end up learning during these stints, I am not convinced it's healthy. Because I'm never good enough.
Cinema is a powerful tool to rouse emotions. I don't have any need for it now at this moment when life itself is quite like a thrill ride.
Mothers
It seems like a fair idea to reserve some time every evening to cry. I can't say if it's something specific that bothers me. Writing helps. I've noticed that I'm way more candid when writing with pent up emotions. I find it cathartic. As if writing these thoughts gives them a life of their own, away from me. Sometimes, it's aimless and that is fine.
It's easiest to blame it on my mother. She didn't know any better, but I have to live this life now. Do I really have to live? There's no objective reason to continue existing but I enjoy the little hedonistic pleasures. Often, they are preceded or succeeded by deep, unwanted, unpleasant thoughts, however, I'm not sure how different my thoughts would have been otherwise, anyway.
I don't have an exclusive claim on unhappiness. It's a common resource that is infinitely renewable. Today, I've been listening to Apparat. No voices in my songs today. The minor key is wonderful. Most find it melancholic but it leaves me with a sense of slight hope, for when you hit the bottom, you can only go up, of course assuming you are still moving.
Life is quite absurd. Existentialism isn't Optimistic Nihilism. The latter kind of left me with no real sense of closure since I've repeatedly failed at finding meaning. The former just bluntly states that having nothing to do is worse than suffering in this cruel and inhospitable world.
I wished for some company to coast through this bleak, smothering experience of life and I've had some good company. I wish to be surrounded by kind folk who do not judge while sharing whatever little they know of the world. Perhaps, I'm a poor judge of character and these people are all around me, and yet I fail to spot them. Perhaps.
I might be a bit heartbroken. I spent a great deal of energy and time unnecessarily riding the roller coaster of emotions this past week. I am now required to withdraw gradually until I can find that safe space within myself. I feel alone. I have been here many times yet, I do not have a solution. It's incredibly difficult to put myself out there when I am wary of people.
I withdraw for now.