Sometimes, I wonder if I would be happier if my life had been harder.
Because the thing is, my life has been really easy. I have known very little hardship. I’ve barely toiled at all. Even when I was going to Kwantlen and then to VFS, the main difficulty was in getting motivated enough to get there and back.
The actual coursework was laughably easy, as always.
Other than that, I’ve just hidden from the world and played video games. And while that isn’t a happy life nor is it a heathy life, it’s certainly not a very difficult life either.
We are forged and activated by the challenges we overcome and I have overcome precious few. Life has more or less left me alone. Nothing ever forced me to grapple wih the big bad world.
I have almost always had a “reality assistant” or two in my life.
And while I love and appreciate and treasure those people who have deemed me worthy of assistance, I can’t help but wonder if I would have been better off in the long run if I had been forced to deal with things all alone.
Because that might have toughened me up. And woken me up. It might have snapped me out of this constant state of semi-dreaming and made me deal with reality.
As is, I live in a world of imagination, and that’s definitely not good for me. In a very real sense, the real world of the senses and realtime existence and actually living life and I are practically strangers.
I spend so little of my day in the real world. Is it nice? I’ve heard good things.
I’m always absorbed into the computer. And when I’m not, I’m absorbed into another screen, watching things with my friends.
Hell, even when I am on the toilet, I am listening to something off YouTube.
So I am only in contact with reality in the time in between getting into bed and, ironically, going to sleep.
Usually I am playing my synth during this time. Which is real but not THAT real. It’s not like I am actually taking in reality during that either.
I’m in touch with the music instead.
So really. getting food from the kitchen is the most real thing I do most days. The only times I am truly “here” are doctor’s appointments and Denny’s.
And grocery shopping. Mustn’t forget that.
So I book maybe four hours of “real time” a week. That ain’t much.
I would definitely be better off psychologically if my sense of reality was more grounded in immediate real-world sensory experience.
I mean no wonder my reality seems so fragile and unstable.
It’s mostly imaginary! It’s all in my head! I need to get the hell out of my imagination and spend some time in the real world just for balance.
Sounds good but…. I can’t see it happening. I have adapted to this unreal environment too thoroughly. I don’t see a path from here to there without having some sort of powerful talisman to keep my ghostly self together in the real world.
Not sure what that would be. Money would do the trick. Having enough money to insulate myself from harsh reality would be quite emboldening.
Other than that…. I don’t know… the right man, perhaps. Someone soothingly strong and stable and sure of themselves who could steady me and keep me grounded and safe in return for my gentle charms and compassionate embrace.
Gosh that sounds good.
I wonder if my plentyoffish account still works…
More after the break.
Some poopy sensations
Feeling pretty crappy today.
Started when I got back from Wound Care. I got this aching feeling in my balls that long experience has taught me is always the herald of bad tidings.
Or vice versa. Whatever.
And sure enough, in addition to some very testy testes, I also had a nauseous stomach, a pounding headache, tense muscles, and a general soreness of the everything.
And then came the tiredness. And with it, the desire to stay in bed forever so I never have to deal with anything ever again.
That’s new as an actual distinct and differentiated thought. And troubling.
Oh well, this too shall pass. I think the pain that came with getting me and my troubled spine to and from Wound Care got things moving in the wrong direction and my over-sensitive nervous system took it from there.
God, I fucking hate my life.
Been thinking that a lot lately too.
So I’m back to THAT again. Also not a good sign.
Hopefully this will burn out like a wildfire and make room for new growth. Always has before, after all.
So fuck it. Burn bitch burn. Drag me through the pits of hell by those swollen nuts of mine. Sweat the pain out of me and don’t spare the steam.
Fire cleanses all.
Who knows, maybe I am building up steam pressure for a useful crisis for some sort.
I know that if I am to escape my personal hell, slow incremental “safe” change is not going to cut it.
The best it can do is keep the pressure down, which ironically might be the worst thing for me and I would be better off letting shit go kaboom.
Not sure how to manage that. Close all the steam vents, I suppose.
Then sit back and wait.
Have to get used to the idea of losing control first, I guess. At least far enough to let things get to the point of explosion.
I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I want to just throw everything away. Fuck it ALL. Fuck everything. Spew all this sick garbage into the world in one grand expectoration and walk away. clean and empty and new.
Dunno who I would be there. Don’t really care either.
Sometimes growth can only come from an Armageddon of the soul.
I’m down with that.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.