Right, I get that life is general is pointless, all of us are on a one way trip to the grave and whatnot, general existential BS….. and that’s a great defense, not even going to fight that part
but being a disinterested zen master is still beyond me. I’m working on it….. today in therapy I reached a lot deeper than I thought I would, ever. I talked about how angry and cheated I feel…… and it really comes back to the pointlessness of effort
because my therapist asked if I would go back to work, and I responded; that isn’t up to me. If someone could give me an employment contract that requires something ANYTHING of the employer…… I’d go for it straight out. But that’s like winning the lottery, really unlikely, all the more because I’m not just going to keep buying tickets on the 1/75,000 chance it ISN’T a waste of time. That’s money I could spend on food for pity sake, food is almost always a better investment than hope. Heck, if I had excess, I could invest in getting out…. not happening
that’s really it, nothing is happening, and while it really bothers me….. what am I supposed to do?
anyway, there used to be this show called the 6 million dollar man, about this guy who was rebuilt using super tech…. “We can rebuild him, we have the technology” remember that? Am I old for remembering that? Yes, I am.
but my point is that I’ve always felt like that was my intro. I was on the road to becoming a serial killer…. and the older people saw that and used the most modern mental health treatments in existence, and drugs, oh god the drugs, and I never murdered anyone. But there wasn’t much other point either. I really want to see that version of the show, they rebuild the 6 million dollar man and then put him into this economy….. man he’s a modern miracle, and it doesn’t count for shit.
and I feel such guilt, because I’ll never be worth it. I’ve never met anyone else who is as much of a waste as I am. Both my parents worked constantly to send me to great schools, to get me every treatment under the sun…. then I went into impressive debt to get an education and prove my worth… and now? What worth? What was the point? Why did my family flush millions down the drain into my futile and pointless life?
ALSO; IDK, maybe that other path would have been okay? It’s not like we have fewer mass murderers, do we? Maybe that person had a place to hold in this universe as valid as me, being nothing, amounting to nothing, and not having the anger to throw a punch anymore….. just regret, and self hatred.
I don’t have anyone who understands it either. Laying it out like this has taken my whole life and a lot of therapy, and I still feel like I’m explaining algebra to a frog. Or a frog is explaining catching a fly with their tongue to me, there’s no way to relate is my point.
You can’t write if you can’t relate,
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hateAnd my time is a piece of wax falling on a termite That’s choking on the splinters
Postscript; while reviewing for my evening (I’m cooking) I discovered that I hadn’t taken my morning meds. So this is where it goes when I un-numb even a little. Stay there long enough, I want to die……. better numb then dead, at least that’s the value system I seem to live in.
Postscript 2; more screaming into the void.
First, John Wayne is Big Leggy
So I always knew that John Wayne was kind of a POS…. I mean he was a draft dodger who went onto shame others for not signing up for Vietnam. Chickenhawks have always sucked.
but it turns out he was a raging alcoholic…. and his main side kick was an Italian guy fronting like a Native American…. so he’s saying he’s giving John Wayne “naturalistic healing” and everyone is assuming it’s like peyote or whatever, but what if it was Lasagna? HA!
I can’t really….. get out of my life right now. It’s a fine art, escapism… and I got too close to what my life actually feels like today. Ooops! and I have no one who gets it, because of everything I was just talking about earlier. And I’m a chronic rule follower, so these two posts be my only output for the day!
Ahhh, but there’s no limit to the amount I can edit it. Maybe. There are actual limits, to my attention span. Eventually I’ll pass out, can’t happen too soon as far as I’m concerned. Too bad drinking sucks, that’s all I’ve got, so I’m just waiting it out.