I am so goddamned sick of this whole “live your best life” Oprah schtick.
Easy for you to say, Winfrey. You’re a goddamned billionaire. You can lead any frigging best life you want.
Image : Dragon sitting on enormous hoard of gold and treasure, saying “But really, it’s the things money can’t buy that really matter. ”
And what does it even mean to “live your best life” anyway? Who even knows what their “best” life would be?
Does Oprah think we’ve all been leading knowingly shitty lives and honestly just need her to tell us to live the better ones we all know how to get to but haven’t yet?
Typical empty-headed false positivism.
It’s like all that “live life to the fullest” bullcrap. Oh great, another thing to constantly fail at as I neurotically obsess over my suboptimal performance.
I mean, sure, I might get to the point where I am enjoying my life more than I am now, but would I really be enjoying it to the FULLEST? Am I really living my BEST life, or could I be doing better? How sure could I ever be that I had wrung all the happiness and enjoyment I possibly could out of every possible moment?
Fuck that noise. That shit is so toxic it glows in the dark. I am going to keep doing the best I can with the withered and palsied soul I have and continue to try to learn and grow and stretch towards a healthier, happier, stronger me, and fuck you, Oprah, and all your idiot followers for trying to make me doubt myself on yet another fucking level.
Besides, you’re only the rich airhead you are today because you stole Phil Donahue’s show format and turned it into nauseating Pablum for the Eat Pray Love set,
I still miss you, Phil. I learned a hell of a lot from your show.
But you, Oprah, can go suck shit through a paper straw.
As you can see, i am feeling kinda cranky today.
I have reached the point in my mood cycle where something in me is trying to wake up and become active but the forces of paralysis and fear are still too strong to allow it and so the energy gets trapped in a half-born state.
And that really hurts.
Still, i make sure this latent energy in me keeps trying as I do my best to clear the path ahead of it and reduce that burden of soul killing frost and snow that clings to my soul like a smothering blanket of death’s fatal chill.
i would so totally rule any goth poetry slam.,
I keep at it because some day, this cranky energy will be the spark that ignites my soul and allows it to finally burn out all that old emotion, blocked passion, and incomplete thought and then rise from its own ashes as a wholer, stronger, saner me.
I just have a lot of healing I need to do first.
And trust me, I am working on it. Somehow, the life in me will burrow its way to the surface and leave the dark cold subterranean world of depression behind.
Seek the love. Follow the light. Move towards what heals you.
And never look back.
More after the break.
Healing is hurting
The problem with all that healing I gotta do is that it pretty much has to hurt.
There is no royal road out of depression. No easy, pain free, totally not scary way to recover from decades of depression stretching back to my early childhood.
And you can be sure as shit sandwiches that nobody is (or can) go ahead of me and smooth down the path like a snowplow parent to make things easier for me.
No, the path ahead is paved with pain and I will have to do a lot of things I really don’t want to do at all and sacrifice a lot of my precious comfort and ease if I want to ever escape this leghold trap of a life and make something of myself.
Because I ain’t nothin’ round about now. Not to the world and definitely not to myself. I can no longer hack this dead end existence of mine.
Over and over, as I waste yet more of my precious time on Earth mindlessly playing video games on my tablet, I find myself thinking,, “There has to be something better I could be doing than THIS. ”
And by “better”, I don’t mean “more productive”. Whatever THAT means.
No, I mean better in terms of being more satisfying, fulfilling, and/or likely to produce a sense of pride in myself for having gotten something done for once.
Something that is meaningful to me. Use my astounding abilities to make something good. Something cool. Something others might actually enjoy.
I have been a pile of untapped potential for far too long, and lately it has occurred to me that nobody is going to come along and tap me any time soon.
I pretty much have to tap myself. It’s up to me to exploit myself as a resource in order to extract some self-worth and dignity from this rotten old life.
Nobody is ever going to just show up and say, “We detected large amounts of IQ and talent in this area and we are here to give you scads and scads of money just for being your extra special self. “
No, the world weirdly insist on you giving them worth at least what they are paying you in order to get that money, so sooner or later you have to produce.
And I know I can produce like a mofo. I write 1000 words a day just for fun,
But there is a lot of harsh reality to deal with before I get paid for my abilities and that has been far too long a journey for me up to this point.
And I am trying to train myself to be more ambitious and greedy so that have some solid and reliable reasons for putting myself out there.
But I have lived a life of constant indolent self-indulgence for so long that my self-discipline is shot and my real functional pride is nonexistent, so it’s hard.
Someday I will make it.
Hopefully BEFORE I die.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.