That sounds wrong. Let me try again.
What I do doesn’t matter.
One more time :
Whatever I do is fine.
Meh, close enough.
I have been pondering productivity lately and my lack thereof, and it’s really made me realize how harshly I judge myself for my non-productive life.
This, despite being a very ill man.
So I have decided that there are some statement I need to make in order to clear the way for myself in the future.
So here goes :
I am officially excused from all need to produce. Society understands that I am ill and does not expect me to pitch in. All society wants of me is for me to work on getting better. And even then, only when I can. No pressure.
And most importantly, at no point and on no level will I ever be expected to catch up.
My slate is blank. Tabula rasa, baby,. I do not carry a massive debt to society that I can never hope to repay and I have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to apologize for.
I have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to apologize for.
Once again, : I have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to apologize for.
Repeat until believed.
It is perfectly fine if I spend all day playing video games and taking naps. Again, I am a very ill man and nothing more is expected of me.
There is no need to hate myself for only doing what I can.
Logically speaking, that is all anyone can ever do.
And that extends into the future, too. It is perfectly fine if I never become a normal member of society. It’s not ideal but if I don’t make it, it doesn’t make me a bad person.
I will continue to strive. But it’s okay just to survive.
Above all else, I will remember this :
I am wonderful. Magnificent. Downright magical. I am a great person who is sweet and kind and gentle and funny and a joy to be around.
And I don’t need to be anything else.
There. Phew! I think that is enough testifying for now. Speaking one’s truth can be mighty tiring, if you’re doing it right.
There is probably more that I need to tell myself – lots more – but I am tired and I feel like I was starting to just spin my wheels and repeat myself.
So that’s enough for now.
What I am trying to do is free myself to simply live my life from this point onward without any worry as to what I am getting done or what I have to show for my time on Earth.
All that matters is my happiness. Everything else is just a means to that end.
Hmmm. Maybe that wasn’t enough after all.
I have been sleeping a LOT lately. Or perhaps I should say I’ve been sleeping often lately. I have fallen into an old and less than ideal pattern of being awake for a couple of hours then sleeping for an hour or an hour and a half.
And it’s not hard to see why. It’s to escape the depression. It’s to not have to deal with life at all. It’s to take advantage of sleep as a final refuge from life.
By living in this tight sleep cycle, even my waking hours are somewhat dreamlike. It helps a lot when it comes to keeping my anxiety levels down but it is ultimately not sustainable and only contributes to my feeling of unreality.
What I really want is to be wide awake and happy. I don’t want to have to tune most of reality out just to make it through the day.
And I find myself getting nostalgic for a time when I was healthier. Like when I was going to Kwantlen or VFS.
I just had to take yet ANOTHER nap. Sigh.
Anyhow, nostalgia. The person who went to Kwantlen and VFS seems alien to me now. How did I ever have that much energy and verve and will to live? How could I ever have had that much hope?
Because knowing what I know now, I am pretty sure I would not sign up for that trip again. All I got out of it in the end is a “diploma” from VFS that is worthless because no teacher would recommend me for anything,.
Oh, and around $25,000 in debt I have no way of repaying.
So when I try to think back of when I was going to VFS and had such high hopes for my future as a TV writer, all I feel is choking waves of bitterness.
There’s probably some other form of education I could try. Something that would lead to some form of being a therapist springs to mind. I could try to convince the province to lend me the moolah to take some kind of three or four year counseling program.
Yeah right. A lot of people start their careers when they are almost 50. And even if I did it, I would still be the weird socially alien kind of scary hairy dude whom nobody likes, so for all I know, people would be just as eager to get rid of me at the end too.
Besides, despite my earlier positive messages, I am still pretty depressed. So I am in no shape to ponder putting weight on that limb yet.
Is there such a thing as physical therapy for the soul?
I suppose that’s called religion. Or at least, meditation.
At least I managed to reach the Happy Squirting Time when I was masturbating recently. That makes it like…. one time in thirty?
Oh well. The journey always feels good.
And I need to learn to be less goal oriented anyhow.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.
AND NOW, SUPER SNAZZY BONUS CONTENT!
Whatever The Fuck This Is Now Presents :
Aliens Trying (And Failing) To Relate To Humans :
“So obviously, you then impaled them with your proboscis. ”
“Oh no, that must have caused a lot of pain in your…. testicles?”
“I would have been all, ‘Like you can secrete anyting better!”
“Wait, I’m confused…..when did you eat the placenta?”
“If you want, I could help you decide which of your children to eat. “