I want someone to discuss these serious matters with. My therapist, is, much better than my previous therapist. She’s not ignoring my pleas for help and pushing “skills-based therapy” onto me. She’s open to the fact that I just need a space to communicate and hash out cognitively with someone my problems.

Which is kind of sad, but I pay for it, in health insurance.

I thought for a sec, like, it’s not fair. I guess it’s not fair some can’t afford it.

I don’t know. What’s the whole picture though, you know. You never see the whole picture. People hide things that make them look worse.

Or whatever.

Honesty.

A virtue.

I have so many goals and ambitions in life. I don’t understand why, if I have a neat idea, I can’t just get started on it and like, go to completion. What STOPS a project, in my domain/house? Metaphorical house. My grill. What stops me from doing things?

I want to make computer games. I have ideas for startups occasionally. I could be a millionaire by now if only I chased my ambitions.

Ugh. I swore I’d revolutionize the financial system around poetry. I haven’t done jack shit to move the boulders. I’m such a lazy useless nothing. Please yell at me. I deserve it.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand.

I want to be physically fit. I want exercise and fitness to be a part of my life. I have no like, I have a gym membership. I prepaid, kind of a scam deal if you don’t use it, which of course I didn’t for that long. I mean I did, at first. But I stopped going.

Just like I stopped playing tennis with my brother. We’re both really good.

Ugh.

I want to be proud of my body. Not ashamed of it. Whether that involves psychological proffering or just plain exercise. Probably some degree of both. Some nonequal degree of both.

Ugh.

Fuck. It’s past 11 AM. What have I done so far. Eaten breakfast (I don’t like breakfast I just have to because of my pills) and taken my pills.

English is an awkward language.

I want so much. I’m not greedy. I’m ambitious. Whatever I want, I know I have to do it myself. I’m not relying on anyone unless it’s a fair deal.

Life is like that.

Whatever.

I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.

Fuck. I feel like shit. Depression fucking sucks. I read my words and I’m like a teenage emo. Not a thirty something with a masters in engineering and ten years of scientific experience.

Don’t hear me talking about that much. Because there’s not much to it. I wasn’t trained in the scientific method. Or rather, I was. Want to know what it is?: Make these reagents, run this experiment, as you’re told, and fucking present results with a strict analysis regimen dictated to you. No creativity, no interpretation, no individuality. “Science” in the industry? Is a fucking joke. If you have a PhD and postdoc you might be the brains of the operation. But fuck. Then you just feel guilty putting your subordinates through the slave labor required to gather the necessary data! It’s total horse shit. I fucking hate science so much. God. If only I could spread the word. How corrupt it is.

Academia is a different story. But there’s hell to be had in there, as well.

It’s just fucked. Maybe it’s a dying cause. But it’s a mere extension of our rationality as human beings, so I don’t see it dying. Maybe the robots will take over.

I’m tired. No one appreciates my thoughts here. Fuck.

I give up.

You fucking suck.

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