#1 

Sometimes, I wonder why I was born here on this Earth. There’s times when it feels like heaven, but also times where I wonder if Earth was just hell in disguise. It would make sense, because they say that living is suffering. But if living is suffering, the immediate solution would be to kill ourselves, and not everyone kills themselves. So I guess maybe living isn’t always suffering. 

I’ve always thought about what it means to live, and what it means to “live life to the fullest”, as the older people on Earth have told me. Does this imply that there is an incorrect way of living? I mean, there probably is, but more importantly, did  it  imply  that  I  could  have  lived  my life  more optimally? Could I have been more productive, doing things, working all day instead of doing nothing? Probably, but that wasn’t the choice that I made. So now I’m left with existential dread. 

The thing is, when I ask myself these questions, like if I could be doing something better for the sake of my happiness, I inevitably become unhappier. It’s almost like the more I try to find happiness, the  more  I  realize  that  I  don’t  have  it.  It’s  counterproductive, because I think whenever I try to do something that is supposed to make my experience better in the future, it almost always makes my experience in the present worse. And with the way I feel in the present, I’ve always thought, “Well, where  the  hell  is  this  train  going?”  and  then eventually, I give up and say, “Nothing really matters in life anyways”. 

With the trajectory of how my life is going right now, I  predict  that  I  won’t  be  able  to  find  this  thing called   “true  happiness”  any  time  soon.  I  don’t  think  it’s impossible, but this “true happiness” is playing hard to get. Temporary happiness on the other hand, is much more  attractive  and  attainable  from  many  different sources, like my second-hand guitar, my good old sketchpad and that dog from next door. 

So now I’m lying on my bed, aggressively thinking about that dog and the relationship between my happiness and productivity. That dog is so adorable that it makes me want to live. However, productivity is one hell of a drug. There’s this feeling that I need to be productive to feel like I’m worth anything at all, because otherwise, I’d think that I’m worthless or something. It’s similar to drug dependence, and not that I would know, but when you get addicted  to  them  and  you  stop,  you  get  withdrawal symptoms and it makes you feel really bad – this is almost like that. 

But still, I questioned productivity. What did it actually mean to be truly productive? 

I looked it up online. I spent the whole day. 

And then, I realized that I wasn’t being productive.

 And then, 5 minutes later, I was empty, dead inside, and staring at a wall. 

Why am I like this?

What the hell was wrong with me?

#2

I wanna put my self-awareness on a stick, like what they did to the heads of traitors on the London Bridge, and burn it in a fire like a witch in the German Witch Trials. If I could I would, you know? If I could I would. 

I’m trying not to be pessimistic about it because I know that it can be good if I just used it correctly. But at the same time,  I just feel like if I  hadn’t  discovered self-awareness, presumably in an alternate timeline, I probably would’ve been more normal. And even though I know all of this shouldn’t matter, I still can’t help but to feel this way.

Sometimes, I say the ideal things that I want myself to say. But then I contradict myself all the time. The conversation is always weird, and it kind of goes like this:

“You’re saying that you should think like this, but you’re not thinking like this right now. You’re saying that you should feel like this, but you’re not even feeling like this right now. It just doesn’t make sense.” 

“But I like being a hypocrite. I wanna be a hypocrite all the time. I wanna cry about it too.” 

“Being a hypocrite is bad. And I think you want to be a good person.”

It seems like my internal self  has gone to crap and now I don’t know what to do. 

Man, I hate this world. 

Living with so much pessimism will absolutely be one of the main reasons that will cause my downfall. There are other parts to the prophecy too, but I think I’m going to write about those another day. 

It’s difficult to think positively, especially when I’m caught up in the cycle of it, but even when I realize that I am, it doesn’t seem to make things better. When I become aware of the situation, I try to force myself out of it and it ends up feeling so unnatural that I give up. 

I just want to think normally without having to tell myself to. And what I’d really want to ask is, when will it be over? Or will it always stay this way?

#3

It rained a lot today. 

I desperately want to be loved in a romantic way, but with all of my issues, right now would be impossible. I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be touched, you know, along with all the other love languages I’ve heard about. But with how unstable I am right now, how could I be a good fit? 

I can’t wait for all of this to move on, if it does. And if all of this changes, and I find something like the love of my life or the equivalent (getting a cat/dog), I think it’ll be great to see how far I’ve grown when I look back. It’s either that or I might be dead, or just permanently alone. But maybe there’s more to that than these outcomes, since a spectrum probably exists for all the various futures that I could create. I just hope my life won’t be as miserable as I think that it will be. Just average, and normal will be fine. 

As for the love of my life, they say that there’s plenty of fishes in the ocean like it’s an abundant, everyday resource. Like a mine reserve full of minerals, waiting to be harvested. But can't they see that I'm already trying to mine away? And going back to the concept of the sea, do they forget that climate change is literally happening right now? Fishes are dying man, people are dying.

In the light of my flawed logic, suddenly I think being alone for the next couple of years is fine, let alone permanently. I’m not a victim anymore, I’m a survivor. Wanting love comes with too many problems that I don’t want to handle. Maybe I should just wait for the right fish to come to papa. 

#4

I woke up feeling tired, even though I had slept for more than eight hours. It’s the weekend, so there’s no time pressure to do anything, but I’m still exhausted.

I’m on the bed again looking at the ceiling. It’s white and blank and I am severely bored. Then, some part of me thinks that I could become the ceiling, but unfortunately, I am not white. Still, I reconsider, and become hopeful at the thought that at least I am almost as blank, with no plans for the future. Go, me! 

I am the ceiling. A blank slate. A yellow canvas. All that is black and yellow, like the song that goes “black and yellow, black and yellow, black and yellow”. 

Wait sorry, blank and yellow. 

Writing is a way that makes me think through things more properly, but I am insane. 

Wait, what was I doing again?

Right. My life has stagnated ever since I was 18 and now I can’t move forward. I don’t wanna be an adult just yet, but I don’t think I have a choice. I’m afraid of going to university, getting a job, and everything that comes after that. But my mom always tells me to take it one step at a time, and I've been telling her that it's not that easy. She says she understands. I love you, mom. 

There's a part of me that's been wanting to exit this universe for a while, and if not this universe, then at least earth where I've been grounded since forever. Lots of worlds to explore, but unfortunately earth is the only one right now that we can live on, and I don't wanna say that I was born in the wrong time period. 

It's hard for me to imagine things nowadays, but if I were to try hard enough with all of my braincells, I could picture myself floating through space in that dark abyss forever, and on second thought that might be a bit horrifying, but imagine all the stars you could see. It would probably be beautiful. You get what I mean. 

The other day I was talking to one of my friends about whether they believed in God, and I don't really know why but it just came up. I told them that ever since I discovered that Santa was dad that I thought it was a betrayal from Jesus. My family is Buddhist. I loved that Christmas sock so much, but it was too bad. If I couldn't put my faith in gift daddy, then I wouldn't be able to put my faith in sky daddy either.