Reminiscence

The truth is I’m sick of computer games, I’m sick of Twitch and streams about computer games, I’m sick of chess, I’m sick of everything, social media, all the shit I do on a regular basis or watch on a regular basis is just waste. Why I waste my time like this.

I want wholesome, serene, calm day full of pleasant relaxation. Is this father’s fault? Does he ruin the atmosphere and environment I live in to the point that I can’t even relax anymore? My cortisol that high?

It looks like someone is doing laundry across the street. Their smokestack coming out of the roof is emitting steam. I would assume that means laundry at 6:30 AM on a Sunday morning. Hmm. Diligent people.

What does life have to offer? I ask this from a transdimensional perspective. If you had to sell me on the concept of life, with all its risks, would you be able to? I don’t think you would. I don’t think it’s worth it. An eternity of void and nothing sounds much quieter and more peaceful.

I miss college. I miss being in the zone, being able to study for hours on end day after day after day, to be able to hang out with fun people whenever I wanted, and to have time to myself as this cherished thing, away from family. I am getting the clue that living with family is destroying me, slowly, from the inside out. It’s definitely not healthy.

Even my mom. She drives me crazy and is annoying and inhibits my lifestyle. It’s not necessarily safer, either, listening to her. She’s anti-medicine. How is that safe? She’s crude and superstitious and illogical. That’s not safe. My mind is founded in logic and rigor, I would do well on my own. After all the suffering I’ve been through, I would know what to do, and what to avoid.

My ex never got back to me, by the way, after her initial response. No follow up. I guess that’s that. Delete from message book?

I think a car just drove by.

We live in a neighborhood, by the way, so “the street” isn’t really a street, it’s this small (paved) community like for a car and a half wide or two i guess but if I don’t know I don’t know, it’s just a neighborhood road. Small. In between the houses.

I wonder what it’s like to live in Italy. In the romanesque countryside, or otherwise, in a city, with the rustic architecture. Corridors in between buildings where ladies hang their laundry out to dry, pots of flowers on the balconies, the fresh smell of bread and vinegar. I wonder what it’s like to live anywhere but here. Here, where I am least happy. Here, where I do not belong.

My therapist really doesn’t have much time to dedicate to me. he tried to equip me with tools, but htey were useless. Meditation is useless for me, relaxation exercises I hate. It doesn’t make sense. Why I have to do all this stupid crap? Be real, mister. Be real. I don’t want to force it. Shouldn’t it be natural? Why I have to twist my own arm to live a “mentally healthy life”? Eh? You a hitman? Here to ruin my life?

Work probably will never be pleasant. I don’t like labwork and that’s that. I’ll have to train for another industry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy with work for the rest of my life, to be honest. Training and reeducation, with my lack of ability to focus or work hard, will take years, and it won’t be pleasant, and how do I choose what to do, honestly? The whole process is miserable. Studying. Looking for work. Working. I don’t like capitalism. At all.

What else is left to say. My psyche is harsh. I want a softer life. The webcomic, A Softer World, is great. Check it out sometime. I want a softer world.

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