I’ve made a lot of observations about myself lately, and yet I feel like I’m more confused than ever. You ever feel like that? Like life kind of sways from one bit of confusion to the next. And you’d assume that you’d go from one to the next with newfound experience and answers, but it doesn’t feel like that to me. And even if it did provide answers, if you’re on your death bed having been in a state of confusion then where was the inherit meaning in all of it? Maybe, for me, this is the first of many as discouraging as that is. I have been depressed before and I have recovered. But being 18 having just left high school seems to have started something, a number of somethings that don’t congregate to the same umbrella. At the moment, however, I cant get my mind off of the other people in my life. I don’t know if any of you have ever struggled with empathy but it doesn’t come without the sense of responsibility. Everyone I’m friends with seems to let their circumstances and mental health define them and their personalities. It gives an empath a glimpse into their truest and darkest state of being. I cant help but feel as you do but only more intensely because I am not quite as desensitized, but I also feel it with an incredible amount of dread. It makes interactions exhausting and horribly depressing. And it makes being alone with everyone’s shit that much worse, it sticks. I’m sorry, I have a little trouble putting it into words. I’m honestly just jotting thoughts down at this point.
It’s weird, I think people really need themselves to sound tragic sometimes. They might think it makes them sound like a complicated person, and that in turn makes them intelligent because only intelligent people can be existentially and dreadfully sad. I think I may have been like this once, worshipping my intelligence made me feel like a fraud always terrified of being exposed. But now I dont worship any parts of my identity. And maybe that’s the problem, I needed to cling to something I so nonchalantly let mold my personality so I dont feel dead in the water like I do now. I am so hopelessly confused about my place in the world and my circumstances.
I lost the motivation to continue writing. It’s late and I could write for hours on my thoughts on the world and my self and the relationship between the two, but I’d rather not.