( 10:29 GN ) Test
I am really struggling. When I wake up, I know I need to do, but then I don't. Even when thousands of dollars are on the line. My previous studying habits (a.k.a. no studying) have caught up to me, and I am drowning. I can't wait for the weekend.
After doing a fairly moderate workout (back and bicep and run on Saturday). I felt so weak, and even when I awoke the next day, I was able to do stuff. It was the next day that really killed me, I didn't want to get up and do anything, but luckily there was online class. Today, it was a in-person day, and I missed all the classes except for the evening online class today. I just felt so weak. I don't know how to explain it other than I felt ashamed of how weak I was. I was listening to myself in my own internal monologue, just hearing the self-depricating cries of hopelessness that I couldn't help but allow through in my internal echo chamber of thoughts. I really cannot stand how I'm feeling.
I'm probably feeling this because I decided not to be a horny monkey; instead, I developed my resistance to such lower activities, and worked out in my room—just like on Saturday. I do feel the high testosterone effects, like being more emotional. And I remember I took ashwagandha one time and had the same effect. I genuinely feel as if my emotions and bodily functions and feelings are being exacerbated due to higher amounts of testosterone in the body. But I find it funny that my desire to do became less as a response to higher testosterone in the body, unless correlation does not equal causation. Today, in the morning when I didn't sleep, I was scrolling through YouTube as a regular doomscroller, and I remember seeing a video "to those who are thinking of leaving." And I just remember having a half-good cry. It did allow me to process the negative emotions that I had pent up inside me, but it feels like a vent rather than an aide.
It's very hard for me to cry until I speak on something that genuinely hits me. Things that are outside of my sphere of caring are basically subject to no emotion from me whatsoever. Nothing really makes me cry until I increase my testosterone. I'm very indifferent to a lot of things if it was never traumatic or related to my trauma to begin with.
I can't wake up for money, I can't wake up for school, I can't wake up for food. Yet I can wake up for the people I care about, and also going to events. That's super strange. I imagine myself as this person that is free to be as creative as they want, but at the same time, I don't want to do any of the work required for fear of burnout. Very crazy, I know. But yet I still do the things that I like doing. And I hate school. I hate being in this house. I want out. Truly I'm stuck in a situation for now. But I have so much money, yet this is already dehibilitating enough having money in reserve from CNY. Money is potential, and you can buy whatever you want with it. And you can sell stuff for more money. I want to escape this rat race, but I don't know how, and I already feel the pressure is on me, even from family members. Everything feels saturated.
There is too much stuff that feels like I need to do, but in reality, I don't need to do anything. I'm so scared to enter the adult world, even when I have already done it through networking events. Talking to people is a breeze, and talking to people about a topic and trying to get information out of other people is also a breeze, but I feel like there's no value exchange other than we know eachother now. I don't want to be lonely.
These last 4 days have been super turbulent in my life, and in what I think about ex-fine shyt. A friend that knows her keeps telling me to just talk to her ffs, but I truly don't feel as if it's the right time, or if I have the stamina to be around people anymore. I hate people so much, and yet I feel so lonely. They are not mutually exclusive. I'd rather commit to becoming a hermit than to talk to her, let alone talk to even more people. That's just too much. But why do I think these thoughts? These thoughts stem from misunderstanding, and I remember how good it felt to vent to that friend, but I hate the feeling of being vulnerable. That feeling of being vulnerable is the thing that creates intimacy, and that's the gateway to the soul. Yet I don't want my soul to be analyzed by anybody other than me and God. I'd rather be judged by the most high, rather than mere mortals with biases. Thus spoke me. I truly feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I am basically a hermit, a shut-in, and yet I don't want to admit it to myself. I want to shut everybody out from my life, even my brothers, even my parents, they don't understand what I feel. Or maybe they do, but they are not as patient. Unless they are, but they are not as present. Unless they are, but that's just a burden placed on them. I want to disappear from everybody and come back different, and yet I don't have any financial means to do anything. I have money, but I don't have a stable amount of income. Rather, I feel dumb and stupid that I didn't have the strength to build it up earlier and the courage to ask my parents if I can start this or that business. I don't want anybody to know that I'm doing stuff, but I want people to know that I'm safe, but I'm just doing my own thing. I want to be loved, but I hate people. I could just create a tulpa and talk to that instead. But no, I'd rather be sane enough to be with my senses and feel each breathe, and absorb the beating of my heart. But rather life is beating me to teach me something. Perhaps it's just the devil, perhaps it's Him. Maybe He doesn't exist. Maybe I don't exist. Everytime I keep thinking these thoughts, I want to blow my brains out. Maybe my brains don't exist. I wish to have a smooth brain, like koala, but that means I can't make this art, which btw is kinda shit but that's the point of the aesthetic. Now why am I talking down on myself? Perhaps I have self-esteem issues, perhaps it's my feeling of always wanting to be humble by trying to discredit my own work. Yet I have written this much already, surely I could become a writer...
I'm always thinking about the easy way, but never the hard way. I look at the hard way, but I don't want to acknowledge it's existence. It's like a repressed part of my brain that wants to conquer, yet I'm so depressed to do so. Why am I so depressed to do so? Because all of my efforts in my past have shown that it's eventually fruitless. Even when there's hope, it turns around and just says fuck you. And I don't want to get constantly edged into insanity and bent over and become obedient to the circumstances. Rather, the circumstances have to bend down to me.
Perhaps they already are, it's just I'm complaining as if they aren't. Even when I'm depressed, I still revert back to some of the habits that are actually quite good and quite cool. Yet I sitll yearn for a bigger purpose than what is in front of me. But maybe that's the problem, I have to lean into it. I have to hone the small stuff so much that the universe has to counterbalance in my favour. But fuck man, I wish conditions were better, and I could do what I was obligated to do.