.

I’m so wrong. And sometimes I can kind of recognize it. I’m a partially self-aware monster. But I won’t change. Because changing would mean letting go of fantasies, and false meanings. And there’s nothing else for me. There’s no other motivation in my mind. My core self is corrupt.

Strip that away, and what’s left? Just an aging meatbag who spends all day sleeping and digesting.

My will to survive is bound up in the unconscious delusion that at some point my fantasies will come true, and all will be right with the world.

Take away the wanting, craving, narcissistic fantasist…and nothing remains. Maybe pain. But nothing else.

What keeps me stuck is that there’s no ‘alternative’ reformed me. I don’t value people as ends in themselves, though I recognize the moral pull of doing so. I don’t have human connection. I don’t really care.

Perhaps about immediate family. I don’t like the idea of devastating them. But that’s insufficient to really change myself. I don’t think I can reform myself into someone they wouldn’t be disgusted by. I just don’t care enough to keep that up. I don’t know why. It just doesn’t seem meaningful to me, living for other people.

I guess that’s the whole point – that I’m an asshole. I don’t care about other people enough, on a deep enough level. I can care about people in an abstract or superficial way. But emotionally other people aren’t fully ‘real’ to me. Perhaps I’ve just spent far too long alone.

So anyway…the idea of trying to ‘fix’ myself – to somehow repair the damaged ‘inner child’ who grew into a repulsive adult – it doesn’t really appeal. Forcing myself to fully confront what I’ve become without anything else to cling on to – it seems like a recipe for pain and failure. I don’t see anything worth living for on the other side of that – just someone finally forced to sit with all the sadness and despair he’s been hiding from all these years. Probably a better person. But not someone I really want to be.

I think I’ll always choose to run, to hide, until the very end.