that’s what i’m thinking. almost every day. that i won’t make it. the closest to the opposite of that that i sometimes repeat to myself is “i can do it”. those aren’t mutually exclusive.
being happy isn’t hard for me. neither is being calm. but i find it impossible to enjoy anything.
i just keep trying to distance myself from the world, from all the nonsense, but i am just left feeling numb.
i’ve been wondering what could be wrong with me. after i learned to be happy, i noticed that i still lacked confidence. but this – i have no clue what this is. i don’t know what it means. do i really care about the world?
today, at the airport that’s being built at the city where i live, an air raid siren test took place. it was muffled. i used to fantasize, daydream, about this sound some time ago, many times. but now, i just ask myself: what is this supposed to be? do we seriously need this crap? does this mean anything at all?
i would keep telling myself that i shouldn’t be worrying about the world, about other people. that people build those cultures on their own. they make choices. at every point, when they are given an opportunity to act reasonable, they don’t. those aren’t my choices to make. and yet, i find it for some weird reason hard to separate myself from the world. do i fear the world? or do i consider it to be something valuable that i don’t want to lose? i would much prefer to live in a postapocalyptic world, than this.
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The problem with stories is that you simply can’t base that shit in Utopia because if everything’s perfect there’s nothing to write about. And so everything is dystopian. And when we escape to these worlds, we feel freed for a bit. And so that’s where we want to be. I also do fantasize about a dystopian future. Somewhere where the only problems I’ll have to solve are the ones that matter. Food, water, safety, shelter. Everything we’re doing here seems so superficial. Marriage. Family. Jobs behind computer screens. It just doesn’t mean anything. I want to do stuff that matters. That’s what I yearn to escape to. And all this thinking makes me feel alone. Liberated. Like I’m the only one that lives in this desperately escapist reality while everybody else is walking around with their eyes glued shut. It’s lonely. It makes you empty. Apathetic. Suicidal. It’s hard to do shit that we’re supposed to because the sheer meaninglessness of it all just engulfs you. Why on earth am I changing sheets? Selling crap like mirrors that nobody needs? It kills you. Makes you angry.
Anyway, I think I feel a similar way to you and I sympathize. But unfortunately the only way out I’ve found is to quit escaping. To be completely unbiased, we’re living in a dystopian reality already. There are problems to be solved. Oppressive governments. Classism. Economic barriers everywhere. That’s the real dystopia. And instead of escaping to a post apocalyptic mess or some fantasy fiction monsters and beasts, I manage this meaninglessness by escaping to reality. I’m vocal about politics. I’m truly angry about my government right now. I want to help fix media bias and help people stop dying from lack of fucking oxygen. To make somebody responsible for these messes we have all created. Those are the real problems. And focusing on them is what keeps me ticking. Otherwise I’d be glued to my bed escaping to dreams.