Honestly, What More Could I Give You? [Journal 8-3-17]

Nujabes – Death Wish.

And so I wake, to another lonely day amidst the billions of my savage kind. I’m losing weight and getting stronger, which I don’t much care about. I’m working a relatively stable and decently paying job, which I don’t much care about. I live in a home which will allow me to save allot of money, which I don’t much care about. Upon waking, I asked myself: now that things have “improved,” do I desire to live? The answer is: not really, but being alive isn’t so bad, and sometimes good.

Now that I’m finally relaxing, am finally somewhat settled in my new rental and job, and am no longer concerned about the potential violence of bestial roommates, my mind can slip out of “go-mode” and start being reflective. Overall, my mental state is.. productive. I’m simply willing a faux contentment, through metacog; this mental state is definitely superior to depression, if inideal.

Basically, I’m tolerating life. It’s not that good. It’s not that bad – when I don’t consider the limitations of my future, placed on me by savages. I’m just focusing on forcing my body and emotions to be productive, focusing on my work, and squeezing what little pleasure out of life I can. There isn’t much pleasure to be had, but I’m not depressed, so it’s not so bad. And I’m getting better at molding my emotions.

All told, things are improving. Sure, I’ll probably have to get a new job in a couple months, but this one is decent and getting me in shape. Sure, my live-in Landlordess has a mix of ADHD and OCD, which leads to a few inconvenient, time-consuming, and somewhat-unreasonable expectations of my behaviors; but it’s better than living with a bunch of perpetual bachelors, whom are always on the brink of a mental-breakdown.

I finally got to sleep in my own bed last night, after a night of mostly just laying in bed, and sometimes watching shows, sometimes reading, and sometimes gaming. My computer is set up. My air conditioner is running. I’ve got access to a tolerable kitchen situation. Things are tolerable. And I’m taking the punches life has to offer with a shit-eating grin, and cherishing what little truly good there is. I loathe my skylight though. I have a skylight; it places an intolerable amount of glare on my monitor, and heats my room quite a bit.

In truth, I’m probably, mostly, motivated by hate. Not the primitive hate familiar to the masses, but the hate refined, the impurities of irrationality removed: I’m forcefully motivated without being simple-minded. The target of my hate is the irrationality of my kin, the misfortunes of my life, the weakness of my mind and body; towhich my response is overcoming their negative influences on my life, and trying to be happy. I hate how unnecessarily base life is, and respond by husbanding order.

Seems the healthiest possible response to my situation. But I’ll tell you: when women start flirting with me, I desperately want to ignore the fact that we have no long-term potential – and thus our romantic interactions would be emotionally detrimental to them – and start relationships. And I wanna fuck them into twitching masses soaked in mutual bodily fluids. Ah, to be a man; almost not worth desiring the company of women.

Journal Hub



~ by Louis Naughtic on August 3, 2017.

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