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solo
I've been single since my last year of high school. Or my whole life, according to an alternate interpretation.
I haven't had a real relationship since high school, that's the cold hard fact. That's the last time I was emotionally connected to anyone. I was happy with what I had, and I believed I had a bright future ahead of me.
But my life didn't really "begin" until after high school finished. Whatever I experienced before was stupid, childish, and delusional. I don't miss it. I miss being young, innocent, and full of hope.
I'm still not ready for the "adult" life. I don't have everything together mentally. I get lost in thought, I stutter, and I'm forced to confront that I'm not the same person I imagine myself as. I'm a fucking dork.
And I can't just shut myself away from all my problems. I don't want to. I want to sort myself out and be a normal participating member of society but sometimes I don't know what I should be doing.
How does this factor into a relationship?
Well, I secretly wish some lady would come along and fix me. But that's not how any of this works. I don't have much to offer in return. I'm not stable enough to maintain a love life. I really don't know what I'm doing. God I need help.
I'm not exactly solving any of my problems by ranting about them to myself here, but hey, nobody listens to me anyway. There's only so much you can traumadump before people decide to just ignore you. So I stopped telling any of my friends this stuff forever ago. It's just me, myself, and I over here. I wish there was someone I could be completely real with. I wouldn't ever become some maniac and act out for attention, I value my dignity and life too much for that. Although, I'm starting to understand how people turn out that way.
But as lonely as I am, I'm still a college student with goals, and I still have a few connections to reality. I know how things are meant to be.
We're social creatures. We're not meant to live life solo.
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mess
I haven't felt this isolated in a while. There are few people I can connect with, and even fewer in real life. I don't mean to be superstitious, but this has to be my fault somehow. Is it my bad habits? My disorganization? My selfishness? My coarse attitude? God I don't know anymore, I can barely think about these things for too long. I just feel like I've done something wrong and that's why I've become so alone. You know what really bugs me? Everyone's moved on with their social lives, and then there's me, held up over things most people sort out in childhood. I know for a fact I wasn't always like this. I had no problem interacting with people before. What happened? It's like I've regressed somehow, I struggle to talk to people at all, let alone speak in coherent and complete sentences. Perhaps I'm meant to walk through life alone. I'm not bitter about it. I don't blame anyone else for it. I did this to myself, and I hope I can reach the point of not caring.
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B
I got a B. I'll take it. I'm gonna try even harder next time. I want all As going forward.
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showtime
I just barely pulled it off.
Not up to my standards, though despite all the glitches and lack of cooperation from AutoCAD, I put together a finished project - mostly.
My overall presentation was a bit scuffed. The colors were hard to read. The renders weren't sharp enough. The isometric drawings were completely glitched out, entire walls were deleted, and the software vomited windows in places they didn't belong. Several of the features I know for a fact I had added and labeled, simply did not show up on the big screen. Could've fixed all of that with one more all-nighter.
Oh, and it wouldn't let me download one of the files I had prepared. Fun.
Despite this, I was able to show off my project and get some valid criticisms (like a dead end too long for adequate access to fire escapes, lack of clarity in the floor plan with my more complex design choices like recessed balconies)
And to my credit, the judges? graders? acknowledged that I had very appropriately designed it to fit the surrounding context and that this is worth putting on my portfolio. This is the first time I've done a proper Brutalist building outside of Minecraft or whatever.
One did mention my graphics were nowhere near as good as my previous project. I'm fully aware.
One more final exam tomorrow, then I can go over everything on my own terms.
I'm satisfied with my efforts for now.
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showcase
I have two days to wrap this project up and submit it. A previous iteration of myself would have cared more what my classmates thought of it, but right now I just want a good grade.
I want success in a tangible format. I can see numbers. Numbers are reassuring, I don't need to think about whether the number is being sincere or just trying to come across a certain way.
Although, I will eventually have to think about what other people think: this summer (before some more cool and fun plans), I want to take all of my previous work, refine it, and consolidate it into a new portfolio I can show a prospective employer.
Right now I have this project staring me in the face. I don't think taking a break to type this is a waste of time. This is a safe place to gather my thoughts.
No, I didn't leave all this work for the last moment. I've been revising, refining, and coming up with new solutions for that apartment building, but it took a while to make something I was satisfied with. Perfectionism is one hell of a drug. ~
All good. I have to hand in that term paper, then pull off an impossible 24 hour shift to finish this building up, then put together a pretty presentation. If I can do this without any hiccups, I can handle whatever nonsense a future job's gonna throw at me.
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polite society
We have a tendency to recognize some people as "weird" and hesitate to socialize with them. This tends to make a lot of otherwise seemingly normal introverted people feel isolated and unwelcome. But I believe there's some merit to this.
I've been watching a lot of true crime recently, and a LOT of people who end up committing heinous atrocities just seem "off" to those around them. I'm sure some of this analysis is done in retrospect but even contemporary videos and reports, from before the incident that gave the subject notoriety, seem to corroborate these claims. People who go on to abuse or harm others have a lot of subtle mannerisms that lead people to avoid them, or at the very least, point out that their behavior is abnormal and refer them to counseling. That leads me to believe that our sense of "hey this guy's not normal" developed to protect us from potentially dangerous people. There are a lot of subtle social cues that "normal" people use in public, the way they walk, talk, and present themselves. People who are properly socialized are keen on picking up these subtle clues, and can use them to tell whether or not someone has been interacting with broader society in a healthy manner.
Whether this instinct came pre-packaged with our brain, or is just another skill polite society passed onto us, it seems to have worked for a lot of people. Perhaps refusing to interact with that disheveled looking stranger saved your life.
But what about the false positives?
We both know that a lot of great people are also a bit eccentric, to say the least. When we pick up on them being a little "weird" and immediately dismiss them as such, we could be missing out on some genuine people with hidden talents.
So, what do we as a society do about that? I won't make any conclusive statements, because I don't know. The entire premise of this post is some stupid theory I came up with at 1AM.
Anyway.
On an individual level, I'm reading and studying personality development so I can be more marketable in my personal and professional life. I missed out on this during a critical period of social development but it's better late than never.
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void
I'm not fine. It's still a massive back and forth in my head and I'd sound like a broken record explaining this.
I deluded myself into thinking any of my feelings mattered. They really need to invent some kind of selective brain wipe to delete a few years of your memory. Maybe I don't hate myself, just part of myself.
Tonight feels important though and I don't wanna waste it ruminating on meaningless emotional garbage. I was so much better when I was just stone cold.
Hey.
Piss off.
#rambles#personal rant#alls well that ends well#they should give a raise to the guy who discovered caffeine#ignore this too
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running out of time
There come times when you have to make huge decisions. You won't always have the advantage of foresight.
I'm leaving after college. I planned this years ahead and correctly predicted the political climate in this country would be exponentially worse by the time I'd be in college. There's no hope for this godforsaken land. It's been on a steady decline for decades, and only now are more people starting to realize how much it sucks. I have no love for this land or its people - I'm doing a favor by leaving. Despite my previous plans, I ended up starting college here to save money. Of course, I still have to finish. I don't have many classes left, and if I'd have taken them in a more optimal order I could even have graduated early. Whatever. The point is, I'll be done in 2 years or less. Where do I go then? Somewhere my skills matter, somewhere I speak the language so I don't sound like a complete idiot, somewhere safe, somewhere I won't be targeted for being Muslim or Indian. That severely limits my options.
In case you haven't noticed, people generally aren't fond of Indians. You cannot mention being one or identify yourself as one anywhere without being subjected to the most disgusting, degrading stereotypes you have absolutely nothing to do with. My stupid New York accent helps me fly under the radar until someone asks where I'm from. I wish I was anyone else, if only to avoid this nonsense.
I still don't know what my future holds and I'm not looking forward to it. I just want to get over with this life. I deserve everything that's happened. I'm at the age where I can't develop social skills much more. I failed to be a normal human being. I failed to meet my own standards, let alone everyone else's. I wasted years of my life being a complete fucking idiot.
The sole reason I haven't gone and offed myself already is because it's a major sin. That's it. Not out of any love for this world, nor any manufactured Nietzschean ideology of "creating your own meaning", nor out of any saccharine desire to "experience life's surprises", but because sending myself to an early grave is a major sin. I'm no saint, I really try to be more pious, but that voice telling me suicide is a sin is all that's stopped me from disappearing forever.
I know what's coming. I just wish I knew what I should do.
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episode 2
I'm thankful for my parents. If I didn't have people to meet my basic needs I'd only sink further into this sad state of existence.
I don't know how long I'll live, or if I'll graduate with good grades, or whether I'll find a well-paying job, or if society will completely implode in the coming decades.
At least for now, I know there's food on the table and a place to sleep. That's all I can rely on right now.
Yet I can't rely on my parents to understand how I feel.
"Why haven't you found a job already?"
I need something that fits my stupid college schedule and that severely limits my options.
"Why don't you have a car already?"
I can't afford one. See my previous answer.
"Why don't you find a girl already?"
I tried, I really did. I've had relationships with girls and every single one hurt me. I developed trust issues from all the women who lied to my face. I'll talk about this some other time.
I want a lifelong bond and they don't. And I'd rather eat a bullet than settle with some vapid husk in her thirties who spent her twenties fooling around.
"Why don't you make more friends?"
Because I'm a socially awkward freak and I'm cursed to be aware of that. I'm weird, I scare people, I can't hold a normal conversation.
Of course, they don't understand me on any of these things and think I'm being dramatic. I'm effectively invisible. Yes, I've been having another depressive episode. No, I'm not telling anyone about it besides whoever stumbles across this post. Typing up these entries is my alternative to self harm.
Welcome to my diary. Enjoy your stay.
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algorithm
I get a message from one of my friends on Instagram, probably another brainrot reel. I open it, I laugh, and reflexively swipe down.
Usually more brainrot.
But every so often, the app throws in some bait - a conventionally attractive woman posing or dancing in a skimpy outfit, hundreds of thousands of likes. Swipe. Another, with even curvier features in an even skimpier outfit with some enticing caption about being Asian or lonely or a gamer girl or whatever. Swipe. Nudes. Not even trying to hide it anymore.
I force myself to snap out of it, reset my content preferences for good measure, close the app, and the next day - it happens again.
I didn't sign up for this. It feels predatory. Does the app notice I look at women for more than a second? I can't help my first glance, especially with some of those outrageous costumes. But this just feels off.
It feels like I'm being preyed on, my virile instincts harnessed to keep me on the app for the advertisements wedged in between. In fact, I think that's exactly what's happening. And I know for a fact I'm not the only one.
A few of my friends have also reported this to me, and it's nothing new. Sex sells, every advertiser knows this. By "rewarding" our viewer retention with images of desirable women, our brains keep us on the app longer, hence more exposure to advertisements. We aren't purely rational beings, we have raw instincts that didn't just disappear when we invented smartphones.
To these companies, a woman's body is little more than a marketing tool. And it seems to be working.
There are a whole lot of men with zero self-restraint whose only experience with women are these images. But our society is so developed and civilized, right?
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the death of sincerity
Tradition is about keeping a fire going, not venerating its ashes. At least, that was the classical conception of cultural expression. Enlightenment-era thought commandeered a bucket of water and doused the embers of a slowly dying flame. From that point on, people dove into absurdist thought: venerating the bucket, burning the bucket, poking holes in the bucket and venerating the leaks, others continue to venerate the wet cinder, and others aimlessly wander about the firepit.
In case you didn't catch the metaphor, sincere human expression has been commodified and cannibalized to feed a growing culture of post-ironic absurdity. We are creating parodies of parodies, satire of satire. Granted, there's always a place for skepticism, mockery, and jest, but post-enlightenment thought made mainstream the idea that nothing is off-limits.
What does my metaphor mean in practical terms?
The first camp of people will mock anything you care about, your way of life, your deceased spouse, life itself - nothing is sacred to them. They will not produce anything of cultural significance, nor is their worldview rooted in any such thing, they only crudely mimic whatever is gaining traction with intent to subvert and corrupt. The only measure of value to these people is how much something challenges something of value.
The second camp are those who fail to understand the challenges introduced by modernity. They may have good intentions, but they somehow aren't aware of what's going on in front of them. They stubbornly attempt to relight the same soggy pile of ashes, convinced that it will burn as bright as it once did. They will not change their habits or techniques, they will not gather new fuel. They are held fast in their ways, and despite their efforts, will never start a fire.
The third camp are those, who, disillusioned by everything they see, choose to simply not care. They choose to not commit to any passion for fear of what could happen. They are aware of the cold setting in, but find themselves wearing horse blinders facing the bucket that seeks to extinguish their efforts, and they too, will never produce anything of substance.
Be better. Brush aside the ashes, gather some kindling and light a spark.
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false equivalence
Anyone who takes a step back to look at society's bigger picture is probably aware of the growing "male loneliness" epidemic. Part of it is due to innate human tendencies in mate selection, and the other due to the atomizing nature of our hyperindividualist ethos.
There's also been a growing trend of "femcels," but that is nowhere near the same issue.
To elaborate: a woman can simply announce to the world she's feeling lonely, and a legion of stupid, desperate, ravenous apelike men will line up hoping to get their rocks off. If her standards are low enough she can go out with any one of them at will, and they will thoughtlessly oblige. It's very rare for a woman's advances to be rejected by this crowd.
The femcel is lonely by choice, she sees most men as unworthy and avoids them. The vast majority of men do not have this luxury, they wait their turn with the next bored vapid girl doing them a favor.
Where do I see myself in this picture? Completely removed. I don't flirt, I don't ask anyone out, I've never used those godforsaken dating apps. I'm not playing this stupid game. I'm waiting for the right time. If I die first, I'll find love in heaven, God willing.
I am at ease. The rest of you can keep chasing your tails.
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why do you talk to me
feeling better, follow-up
I shouldn't sound all doom and gloom, some people reach out to me in-person and online and I don't hate them. I truly appreciate you guys, I just don't know you well enough to relate.
I have some acquaintances I've shared classes with over the years whom I can talk to about my latest house project or whatever, people who comment on my ideas and sketches, people who just wanna talk about college in general. I feel like I actually matter to some people.
I'm fine, really. I complain here a lot, but all things considered, I'm fine. I'm only dealing with first world problems and mild annoyances (besides the lady who hit me and nearly ran me over)
But there's one girl in my class who looks oddly familiar, whom I loathe talking to because my mind keeps whispering to me: "That's not her."
Similar appearance and demeanor, well-versed in internet humor, plays the same games, kinda knows everyone, has a presence that's felt in the whole room. Had I met her years prior, I would have been head over heels.
But it's not her. It makes me come across as a dork, but I can only manage short succinct responses and hand waves. My heart forbids me from anything more. I dread her greetings because I have to somehow respond in order to not lose social standing. But at the same time I get jealous of her talking to other people, even though I have no intention of being with her.
Where did this personality trait come from? After that one breakup, I had no inhibitions, I just wanted to immediately move on, but after calming down, I've changed more than I realized even after all this time. It doesn't help, how much this girl reminds me of the one I really felt something with.
I want someone to commit to and look after, cherish and support, share my life and passions with, someone who's all mine. I don't have an idealized or romanticized version of what to expect besides that. What I want most is a woman who can be herself around me.
I want something healthy and pure. As of now, I am not husband material. I can't bring negativity into a relationship. I know not every girl talking to me is hitting on me, but every time, I ask myself in my head: "Why do you talk to me?"
But how long can I delay love before it's too late? I'm 21 years old. These are supposed to be my peak years. I wanted to spend these years traveling the world with her.
I shouldn't doubt myself so much. I'm here, I'm alive, I've toughed out situations most people have not. I can still experience love again one day. This is a promise to myself.
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changes
Haven't ranted about anything in a while, and that's a good thing I suppose. One of my worries has subsided as I'm getting good grades in every class again. Go figure, effort pays off.
But that's about it. I still detest my voice and my appearance. I still see myself as wasted potential. And I still generally *dislike* people, to understate the obvious. I entertained the thought that it's just the internet influencing me, but no, I've encountered weirdos who talk just like the vapid creatures you meet online. Oh, and online, there's a mute button for people who loudly chew with their mouth open and sporadically suck their tongue because cigarettes have permanently parched their throat. Can't avoid uncouth animals like them in real life. I can't *not* be antisocial when every other encounter I have with a human being is generally unpleasant.
Did I mention I got hit by a car for the THIRD time the other day? It's a miracle I haven't been seriously hurt already.
I have very few people I can confide in at all, fewer I can relate to, and even fewer I can trust. I let them know this as a token of gratitude. I still keep most of my rants to myself, because constantly unloading your baggage on your friends makes you a bad friend apparently.
I've had plenty of thoughts I could have turned into posts too but I let them naturally fizzle out in case typing these up somehow makes me angrier. That takes too long though and I have some major assignments due this week, as well as some personal projects I want to come to fruition.
Hey, if anyone else does passion projects in their free time, how often do you come up with a great concept, write down some ideas, set yourself some constraints, draw a sketch, even start the project, only to completely drop it a week later? It's been happening to me far too many times and I can't understand it.
Anyway.
To wrap up this rant, not much has changed. I'm still a jaded, angry, bitter individual and I'm probably going to die this way. I still want to do something cool with my limited skillset, it's up for debate if a tree really makes a sound if nobody's there to hear it fall.
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no thoughts, head empty
I've calmed down lately. Sitting down to write a poem (albeit with little flow and an inconsistent rhyme scheme) has given me some ease of tension from the self-flagellating thoughts.
However, my anxieties have reignited over what comes in a few days - Valentine's Day.
Not that I care about the day itself, I never did. But it's the day most of society uses to show romantic affection and whatnot. Naturally that means, by virtue of constant exposure, I won't be able to stop thinking about it either.
For the last couple of days though, I've been thinking - kind of nothing. I'm simply doing chores, homework, grinding out quests in the few games I have time for, refueling with caffeine, sleeping only when I pass out from exhaustion. Is this what being a robot feels like? I don't mind it all that much.
I shouldn't say that. Shutting off your brain and simply doing menial tasks doesn't give you much time to reassess your priorities. The weekend's over, and while I did a lot, I haven't progressed in any meaningful sense.
I was meant to upload a video to my new channel, but I didn't get to finish editing it Sunday. I passed out at some point and woke up a quarter past midnight. I suppose I'll finish it now, then finish up my assignments before afternoon.
But back to the whole Valentine's Day and love spiel.
I remember, eons ago when I actually felt love, I had another reason to not be lazy in the morning. Love was the reaaon I worked long hours, studied hard, and saved my money. I need to make room for love somewhere. But for who? I haven't romantically approached a girl in years.
Perhaps that's for the best. I was an irresponsible, emotional train wreck during and after that break-up; every attempt I made to get over it and find someone else made my situation worse.
My parents keep pushing me to go find a girl and get married, but I can't tell them I still long for the girl I liked years ago.
I can't tell most of my friends either, as immediately after the breakup, in my vindictive rage I tried to destroy her memory and reputation in the friend circle we belonged to. What the hell was wrong with me?
No, really, what the hell?
I've become completely unrecognizable. I'm just confessing my misdeeds to myself over and over hoping to get something out of it.
I won't get over it. That's fine.
No it's not. I ruined my only real experience of love.
Whatever, video. Homework. Chores.
Rinse and repeat.
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i'm sorry
For my selfish deeds and all their effects For treating you as simply an object For not showing you your deserved respect I'm sorry for all my vitriol, abuse, and neglect
I'm sorry I lied about feeling nothing when it was through I said it all out of naught but spite I'm sorry I disrespected you Just because I deemed it alright
I'm sorry, you were my favorite person, the smartest I knew I loved all your projects, everything you wrote and drew I loved all your imperfections, I hope one day this reaches you I'm sorry the appreciation I showed was far too few
I'm sorry, I really felt love, I should've said so sooner No one else is like you, I'd love to get to know you again Because part of me still holds on to what could've been I'm sorry, I wish I could just rewind and start over
I'm sorry for not tending to you when I left your heart in tatters For being more concerned with an imaginary social ladder I'm sorry for taking everything we had and letting it fall and shatter I'm sorry for not saying sorry when it mattered
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