Journal Entry 1-15-17

Tom Waits – Strange Weather.

I’m improving. I’m reluctant to be optimistic, for it’s happened repeatedly that, in moments precursing dramatic misfortune, I thought to myself how happy I was – with surprise and begrudgement. I thought: “Finally, I can relax; I damn-well deserve it.” That aside, I’ve been repeatedly and unfoundedly optimistic throughout the depression: imagining myself progressing, only to find new and greater issues – a theme common enough throughout my life that it’s nearly comforting.

But, I’m feeling better: my psychologic issues are beginning to meaningful subside: though I still see humanity as childish, and my future among them ugly and barren, I’ve gained enough control of my emotions to respond productively: rather than becoming more depressed, I will happiness through elaborate metacognition.

Doing thus prevents the psychosomatic physical issues, in an indirect manner: rather than being overtaken by sadness, and that sadness translating to a desire to die, and that desire starting a chain-reaction of my mind and body shutting down, I control my response. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure; I merely needed to develop understanding.

I’m gaining conscious control over the mental patterns which, in response to my desire to die, shut down various components of my body, and am reversing their influence: reinvigorating my mind and body to my former self – though I’m aiming to become stronger than formerly, to prevent this ever fucking happening again.

Though previously worried over whom I’d become, to deal with this stage of my life, that worry is reducing: conscious control over the internal process which keep my body and mind healthy mean the external world won’t drive me to destructive behavior out of hatred or whathaveyou. At least, that’s what I tell myself while cackling maniacally.

I’ve simply need to accept that, in public, I have to put on an elaborate show to keep the unwashed masses from burning me at the stake for daring to utter basic fucking reasoning. What a treat life is. I sometimes wish I lived a charmed life, then recant upon the realization that I would become exactly the type of mindless, weak twats that so rejoice in fucking me over for reminding them of the reality outside their privileged lives.

Anyway. With the appearance of potential for progress, with my former strength beginning to return, the wheels start turning again. First priority: get my old strength back, to the point where I can breeze through a workday without noticing the work. Second: habituate my emotional responses to the grim future. Third: habituate the elaborate social engineering required of pandering to the masses. Forth: learn how to suck my own dick. All of these goals can be tested via volunteering fulltime.

In closing: Fuck you, world; you deserve me less than I deserve your bullshit.

Journal Hub



~ by Louis Naughtic on January 15, 2017.

One Response to “Journal Entry 1-15-17”

  1. It is tough to exist in this world, but with the burden of mental illness, it’s tougher still.

    Even when I’m not feeling depressed, I still see humanity as ugly in many respects. It’s not only based on how people have always treated me, but others too

    I’m glad you are feeling stronger though. May that strength stay with you and grow.

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