I guess I’m gonna try to write a book.
Alright, lets see if I can actually start on this finally.
I don’t know what I’m writing here. I suppose its a collection of my thoughts, opinions, and interesting thought pieces I'd like to share. I'm not sure what I’m gonna end up titling it. Let’s throw out some ideas:
The Thoughts of an Egotistical Teenage Boy.
This Book has No Reason to Exist and You have No Reason to Read It.
A Five Pound Bag of Potatoes.
I Talk to Myself, Feel Free to Listen.
Anyway, this book really has no reason to exist other than the fact that I wanted to write it. If I had any writing skill at all, or even an original idea, I would try to make an extremely complicated character who would mull over most or all of the follow topics while going through whatever entertaining plot the character would go through. But I’m not so conceited that I assume I could write a story anyone would care about without any practice or training, or even if I am that conceited I’m probably too lazy to put all that effort in. There’s no reason you should care about my thoughts. I’ll never be famous, you’ll probably never talk to me, and I’m not particularly funny or good at writing. I’m a lazy introverted pretentious spoiled nerdy teenage boy with no real hobbies. Nevertheless, I wanted to write this book of my thoughts on all subjects, in the hopes that I will learn more about myself and understand more about how other people think. Maybe by reading this you will learn more about yourself, giving this book a reason to exist. Perhaps it will even inspire you to write a similar book, resulting in a chain reaction of book writing that allows someone to unravel the psychology of humanity and make world peace. Or maybe I’m just an egotistical teenage boy with delusions of grandeur. Anyway, here’s the book, hopefully it’s not a waste of my time or yours.
Let me get this out of the way right now: I’m going to be wrong. A lot. I’m really quite okay with saying things that are wrong, and realizing just how wrong I am immediately after saying it. I believe it’s better to say something and be wrong than to say nothing. Sure, there is the quote “It is better to remain silent at the risk of being thought a fool, than to talk and remove all doubt of it.” (Maurice Switzer) but may I ask what is wrong with being thought a fool? There is a time and place for proper appearances, but it isn’t all the time. If you are too afraid of being wrong, you’ll never speak up when you’re right. A fool is a silly person: silly people are entertaining (in moderation, of course). If you don’t speak up when wrong, then you may remain wrong. Trying to put together the statement or opinion into words to be said or written will make you reflect upon it as you create it, fixing some of the smaller errors yourself, and making the larger errors easier to spot. Even if the statement you create is wrong, It doesn’t necessarily need to be discarded. It can be edited, rewritten, and re-imagined until you end up with something that isn’t wrong, meaning now you have some new thing that is right. The scientific method applied to whatever subject you feel like applying it to. Even wrong statements and opinions have their uses. They make the observer acknowledge something, think about it, then form whatever is right by working backwards from the wrong thing. They make you think, and that’s the important part. Assuming that you choose to think about it.
Here’s a list of topics I’d like to cover in depth, this list is just from a few days of brainstorming, it’s sure to merge and grow significantly through the process.
communication (words are poor tools, yet powerful)
be who you are, just dont be boring
i dont like pretty things
i dont like shiny things
Don’t kill yourself
potential is impossible
life is too short to play bad videogames
life is not short
sadism and masochism
Self deprecating smugness
its okay to be wrong
And whatever else I come up with, this is likely to be a multiyear project, and as it’s something I want to do for fun, the topics will just be whatever I feel like writing about. These subjects will slowly be molded and merged into proper subjects, and hopefully the end product will be coherent and not changing subjects literally every sentence.
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i’m both excited by and terrified of the future.
i feel like the most appropriate way to foreword this.
it’s so daunting and insurmountable, especially when i can’t even find the right amounts of energy to invest into the things i have in front of me currently every day.
every morning it gets harder for me to function. i have no motivation but i still make myself get out of bed and act okayish. i still admit my unease, and my desire to be everywhere but where i’m currently at, but self deprecating jokes are just part of appearing like i’m coping healthily, right? how well do i have to act that, when i talked to my manager about my mental health and how my work both negatively affects it and is negatively affected by it, i’m told that it doesn’t even seem like i’ve been having such extensive issues? it’s like a thrill of being able to pull of suffering so well.. and that excites and terrifies me.
but,within those acting jokes, there is an unfortunate truth. i am overwhelmed by a sense of impenetrable sadness. a melancholy wave so horrendously cold that it feels like my entire nervous system has ice cubes touching every end of it. it feels like i’m being pulled apart every single day. and every day the resounding desire to end my life steps closer to the foreground of my conscious mind. once buried, it’s voice has stayed the same level but is now pressing itself into every thought of mine. i feel like i think of my demise more than i subconsciously think about breathing. and that excites and terrifies me.
i have new insurance and i want to see a therapist again, and maybe get on antidepressants but i’m so scared of what might happen to me. when i express my deepest mental recesses to someone what will i be diagnosed with officially? what will that label do for me? or to me? will being able to categorize help me compartmentalize and organize the wreckage that is my emotional haze? or will i completely reject myself for identifying something wrong with myself so definitively? and that excites and terrifies me.
i feel like a failure every time my eyes open. there’s something wrong i’ve done in every waking moment of my life. everything within my view isn’t just discolored, it’s almost fully skewed now. everything in this world is some degree of fucked up that can be attributed to something i did, someone i affected, somewhere i goofed. it’s exhausting to only see reflections of things you hate in everything you once enjoyed. it almost makes seeing unbearable. i wish there was a way to claw my eyes out at times. and that excites and terrifies me.
i feel like i keep setting myself up for disappointment. my mind has these elaborate delusions of grandeur, especially when it comes to romantic endeavors, and i always end up crushed. i don’t know how to shut myself off, and it almost hurts more every time it happens. i feel so incredibly undesirable and my self image is getting worse and worse every time i see the mirror in my room or in the bathroom and i feel like if i don’t die before i get my own place i’ll live without mirrors. i have no idea how that will affect me mentally or emotionally, but i’ve gotten so desperate for relief. and that excites and terrifies me.
the lengths i will go to for myself to finally be comfortable are uncertain, unbound, and unlimited to or by reason. i don’t want to fall back into self harm but every day it’s getting easier to skip meals again and just ignore the fact that i’m fully aware of what i’m doing and how intentional it is that i’m trying to sabotage my progress so that i have more things to beat myself up over. the fact that i feel the need to give myself ammunition is probably one of the most harmful things for me, but i don’t know how to stop it. i don’t know to how to make myself stop wishing i was someone, somewhere, or something else. and that excites and terrifies me.
i keep delaying submitting my canadian visa because i’m so afraid of rejection and the plans i’ve made that i keep psyching myself out of it. that, combined with a very full schedule that has allowed me zero relaxation time has spread me so thin that there are parts of my resolve i can see through. these gaps are starting to widen and i’m trying to not be complacent in misfortune but it’s so hard to not get comfortable when the three inch space between the end of my hand, the edge of the bed, and the rest of the world i will have to eventually face feels like trying to swim across the atlantic ocean. i’m drowning inside of myself and my procrastination. and that excites and terrifies me.
nothing is making me happy anymore
nothing is even making me content.
within every action there is a mistake.
within every version of me i try to become there is a blockade of things i will never accomplish because of things i can never be that i keep setting unrealistic goals for myself for.
i’m running out of pieces of myself to give away and the spaces where the ones i’ve already dispensed are starting to swallow things i need like motor function, and healthy joints, and peace of fucking mind.
and that excites and terrifies me.
i want so badly to genuinely feel okay. and i feel like it may never happen.
and that excites and terrifies me.
something has to give, and it may be me.
and that excites and terrifies me.
and the fact that it excites and terrifies me also excites and terrifies me.
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