What Is It If What It Is Is Not?

Often it is in the nature of myself that I find it overwhelmingly easy to stew in the raw seething hatred I have for most of humanity. Yet given its beautiful allure, I find myself inexplicably capable of moving past the various potholes of my life.

Consider the various humans who have so often failed in their word. Consider how they twist them with such craft of justifications and blame. Consider, how they can vanish in its entirety.

It is said that an unwillingness to forgive is like taking poison and hoping the other person dies. Ultimately, forgiveness is an easy gift to hand out. Though clearly it is exceedingly silly to imply that one should forgive and forget. While one may forget things of a distant memory, its lessons and conclusion is what should clearly stay.

We may not be perfectly objective given our nature even if we truly want to. One possible problem being that weightage and classifications are subjective in nature as is, especially so if one considers it is subjective to the standards of oneself. But it does not discount the fact that there is a score. Having made that discovery, it then becomes our duty to keep it organized and disregard the biases of hormones and matters of chance.

However that is not to say we should be cold to the core. I consider myself very much human and naturely, quite capable of error. That said however, I find it reasonable to aspire to a system where thoughts and emotions are kept more in check than allowed to run wild in a chaotic fashion. Order within a system is that which reduces the noise of unsatiable desires.

It is natural then to think that while one can keep score, one is thus capable of giving additional chances. Objectivity that takes into account biases while capable of learning lessons is after all, essentially a way of thought that gives rise to allowing various opportunities of external sources.

Given that such is the case, it is also thus quite natural that if the frequency of chances are high but positive outcomes are low that it warrants furthur investigations as to determine why such is the case.

As much as it may be that a lack of a positive outcome may have a genuine tale, overwhelmingly I find that such is not the case. The simplicity of certain events or the lack of a correlation at all are very clear indications that it is more often than not just a case of weakness. While this may seem overly brutal in my judgement of others, it does still hold in it without a doubt, truth.

Is it then wrong for me to discriminate against others where the word of one is of concern? Is it not natural to favour those who can keep to their word versus those who do not? As much as there may be those who choose to deny their own judgements as such, it remains a reasonable certainty that we will choose to make decisions based on past experiences. The only difference here, is that I am aware of my biases and take effort into compensating for it.

Let it not be said that I am a machine, for I am but a mind wrapped in flesh. To desire a more rational train of thought is simply part of who I choose to be.

Hotter Than The Sun

Looking back, the one thing I have noticed for certain is that my emotions respond very strongly to external situations. Left to my own devices, I was always capable of finding some rudimentary way to entertain myself, to occupy myself, to make myself happier.

Putting myself back into the headspace that I had back when I was a child, I can almost remember how happiness and bliss feels like. While the memories of my past, my childhood especially so, has large gaps, I do still remember that back when I was in kindergarden, I had learned how much words can hurt me so greatly. I remember, how being shamed feels like, unintential as it may be. I remember how being put into a confined dark place feels like, though intential in this case.

Yet growing up, I do not remember ever being bitter. I have always seen the world with such infinite hope. Always naive and oblivious to the darkness and evils of the people around me. My memory has never been my strong suite and as such, it was easy to forget about the things that hurt me so in the world. I was a blissful idiot.

Over the years though, I noticed that while I am very much capable of feeling emotions, I feel everything almost excessively. Too often, I find myself not being annoyed but in rage; not being sad but in despair. And yet I find the more myself experiencing the excessive versions of positive emotions much less. Whether it does not work with positive emotions or that I simply have too little instances of them to have enough a sample size is something I will never know.

At some point during that time it occurred to me that since emotions are the cause of negative feelings, the lack of emotions would be a lack of negative feelings. And so I embarked upon the journey of muting out everything that I could possibly feel. While this did in fact work, it then occurred to me that I have muted out positive emotions as well, which would make life a little bland. As such, I decided that it is perhaps a wiser decision not to mute out emotions after all.

Now I’m sure many of you would think that considering I am capable of muting out emotions at all, why not simply mute out only the negative ones? Believe me when I say I’ve tried. But it seems my skills relies more on tuning out everything as a whole instead of functioning individually. I seem to be capable of controlling how much apathy I would like to experience.

Of course I am not an actual psychopath, so I still feel everything as I would normally. The only difference when controlling how apathetic I would be is that I can somehow ignore what I feel to some extent with no ill effect as far as I can tell. However, if I were to recall a situation without being apathetic, I can most certainly recall the emotions I felt at the time, since I actually DID feel them, tuned out as they may be.

Until the past two years, I noticed that my level of apathy is somewhat high. Most of the time when I am among others, it just seems so convenient to mute the agitation caused by the endless rambling of society. I still feel anger and resentment towards many things, but being as quiet as they were, everything was extremely bearable. I did this for close to five years when I noticed I could, simply because the extremes of what I feel was pushing me too hard for me to handle.

But two years ago, it seems I have almost forgotten how it would feel like to be happy without the restaint I place on myself. And so I undo what I did. It took some time to be as apathetic as I was back then. And it took time as well, to undo the level of apathy that I was in. But in a few months, I was back to feeling everything on full tilt.

In the beginning this was an almost painful process. I felt wrath like I have never experienced in my life. I was angry at everything. I was sad about everything. But a few months after this, I was feeling happiness marginally more than I can remember.

I thought perhaps it was like an atrophied muscle. I just had to keep working on it, perhaps eventually I’d feel happiness like never before. But as time went on, nothing changed. My negative emotions are on a magnitude that is almost unbearable most of the time. Yet the happiness that I seem to be capable of feeling has no improvement beyond the initial increase in margin.

Now two years after I have made such a decision, I have felt anger enough to almost make me spontaneously combust. I have felt despair enough to make me seriously consider suicide on multiple occasions. This has had me wondering, considering the limited pros and the terrible cons, have I made the correct decision? Is it not better to just simply re-invoke a strong sense of apathy if it means that the emotions I feel are much less potent?

Yes, there are many other coping mechanisms out there. But from my experience thus far, there is nothing else that works that is not damaging and/or illegal. Considering my other options of coping, it seems to me that short of getting a lobotomy, being apathetic is the only long term solution that I can think of.

Wishing On A Nightmare

There are many things I can avoid in life to make me feel less in despair. But I cannot avoid sleep. And by extension, I cannot avoid dreams.

I don’t often have nightmares, but I often wish I do. Because then at least life would seem better in comparison. Too often my dreams are filled with people and scenarios far too beautiful for me to want to awaken from. And reality is like the gaping wound that is leeking pus and everything about it screams filth and pain and despair.

But reality is just a measure of perspective, and that which is mundane simply finds a way to creep its way and make itself unpleasant. The everyday routines of life simply going on when all that I want is so much more.

There are days I wish I could I could sleep beyond what is required, if only so that I can indulge in fantasy a little while longer.

There are days I wish I could scream to the world to take my breath from me.

There are days I wish I could break free from the chains I hold myself with.

To hold two thoughts that are so clearly opposed to each other, is very much like my dreams and reality.

The Garden That Once Was

I was expecting deep sharp pains. Maybe even some form of rage. Or possibly even some flavour of contempt. But it was nothing like that at all. All it was was like lying down with a plank on top of me as weights slowly piled on top of me one by one.

The beautiful thing about emotion is that it does not require any logical justification to exist. It simply does. But for a guy like that basically lives life as a series of logical conclusion, emotions are possibly the most agitating thing in the world to deal with.

Because when things are good it’s great. Everything would be wonderful and life goes on and everything is just peachy. But when things are bad, I would congratulate myself if I made through the day without committing any acts of self destruction. The things I could do is far too simple and far too accessible to make it easy to maintain self control. And for a moment, it would seem like a great idea to disappear, and then maybe, maybe, someone would notice.

But that’s never how it ever pans out. Because nobody notices something that disappears if that something behaves like it was never there to begin with. You wouldn’t notice a speck of dust on the top of a cupboard missing.

And the feeling it brings, and the feelings that are there, and the explosion of emotions that is barely being held is check thus far all stems from one simple unjustified emotional standpoint. That one irrational unexplainable mess of a state by brain has decided to be in. It is almost beautiful how absolutely terrifying it is.

Like the darkest of shadows and the brightest of lights, it forms itself as a contradiction existing simultaneously, almost mocking my rationality.

It breaths itself into my life, tracing every decision I make, every movement, every word spoken. It brings with it my wrath, my jealousy, my hate. It brings with it my despair and everything I held dear, everything I had ever tried to tame.

This is something I would have to concede is beyond my control. Despite my efforts to subdue it, I find myself being pushed back time and time again. There are parts of me that are extremely hard to kill. But for it to be fueled by something as powerful as hope, I find myself failing at every attempt to silence this thing.

I don’t want this hope. And I don’t want this feeling. And in all likelihood I am over thinking things. But being what I am, it seems inevitable that I would need to take drastic measures soon if I were to have any hope of keeping what’s left of my sanity.

Silent Words of Intention

There is a large part of me that seems almost unmercifully curious. Even when facing potential harm, dangers or fears I have, my curiosity has always been one to push me far beyond my comfort zone to acquire the information I desire. The only exception in its aggression is that if it involves another living thing, it would not drive me beyond my desire to keep the peace or least my desire not to offend others. Usually at least.

I would gladly borderline insult those of whom I am unfamiliar with if it answers the questions I have in my head. Anyone close to being familiar would have the mercy of my built-in stopgap measures that strives so hard to be socially acceptable.

Rather than a fear of being insensitive, the fear of being invasive seems to be the greater force at play. Sure, there is fear of being rude by being insensitive. But when it comes to people I’m familiar with, there is always more a fear of invading more into their lives than they would prefer. Would my questions be probing to deep into their lives? Would my curiosity basically be an invasion of privacy? Would my interactions at all be a bothersome thing?

It is common to assume ‘no guts glory’ or ‘nothing ventured nothing gained’, but far too often, fear finds a way to bind me. And far too often, I find myself agreeing to the logic of what my fear provides.

Life as it is always ends up revolving around a delicate balance between what is acceptable and what is not. That balance is possibly the hardest thing on earth to gauge for me.

The Little Creaks That Echo

It seems when my sleep to awake hours starts getting skewed throughout the day, I get gradually more depressive. While not massively relevant, it does explain the few previous posts and possibly why I have yet to graduate any of my more serious thoughts from drafts to posts.

But that is not to say it was a complete streak. There was a time for several days where I have been decently well. Most likely due to excessive sleeping no less. Though I can certainly admit to depressive swings, I most certainly do not find that it has yet to affect my life is any way significant. Hence the lack of bother was given to this “issue”.

I function, and that is all that matters.

Peering Past Deaf Ears

There is joy in drowning within a personal universe made especially just for you. Where everything you want in the world is all that is over there right now. Everything fits, and everything falls perfectly into place. The only thing you miss out on is everything else.

The beauty and curse behind earphones and headphones are the fact that once they are on, the rest of the world is nothing but background noise, almost literally. In such a state, one can just immerse themselves in a state where things are just wonderfully delightful.

But wearing such headgear effectively tells me that you have absolutely no desire to communicate with another human being within your proximity so long as they are still on. Sure, you could always grant me the privilege by taking them off while talking. But it doesn’t help in any way shape or form to make you seem any more approachable or willing to socialize at all.

I am not denying the convenience and joys of wearing such a thing though. I happily prefer my headphones over speakers when I am alone in my room. But to do so publicly when there are those of whom you are familiar with seems almost anti-social. Almost.

However I do not deny that it seems very much like an enjoyable thing to do, drowning out the rest of the world. Being able to ignore the world sounds fun. To block off all the grating human interactions and obligated social niceties via feigning a lack of notice seems very pleasant indeed.

A Feather’s Weight Worth in Hope

Because I know, from the words, actions and inactions. From statistics and behaviour and of course personal bias. That is not to say I am certain of course.

I am well aware of my own fallibility, my own flaws, and my own ability to read far too much into any situation. While I can always stop, I find myself in a situation where I truly want to know. To know not just to satiate my curiosity but to confirm whether or not my fears are in fact justified. I want to know simply for the satisfaction I would gain of knowing. Whether or not it may be a validation that would please or displease me, I am almost pressured just by not knowing. But I would never ask.

I reside in shadows and blend in as often and seamlessly as I can, because it is always fun to watch, to observe. It would mean that I would never be an actual player but often it is my nature to avoid such a risk of pain even if it is at the expense of joy. Standing where I am, I remain content. Not happy, but content.

But I do want to hope. I do want to get out of my comfort zone. I want to break out of the shell that defines me, grab your shoulders and shake you and say “do you see me? I am here! I am alive! I exist! And I want you to know that I hear you and I care!”.

Yet I would remain unseen, unheard and unspoken of. Because I am here, and I stay where I am, and I burn the hope that always so tenaciously tries to rise over and over again.

Tracing The Past of an Arm Once Harmed

Looking back at the various fragments of my memories that are in pieces large enough to make sense, I often find myself questioning just what exactly has caused me to allow myself to be as emotionally slightly out of place as I am now. I don’t find myself to be particularly one dimentional, sure. Most people don’t and I would like to think most people aren’t as well. But I doubt that with so many citizens of planet earth, I am of a unique flavour.

I see the world in a way that simply does not require a larger force at play to entertain, please or pity me. Everyone else is everyone else, I am me. I expect ignorance from the universe, anything else would be a surprise. Considering statistics at least, there are certainly those who are better off than I am, and there are certainly those who are much worse. Being part of the spectrum just makes me as normal as anyone else. So long as one does not reside at the ends of said spectrum, one could easily fit in.

However when I look into my skin which writes a past, I begin to wonder just how far off a societal accepted norm I am. In terms of external manisfestations at least I’m sure I’ve got most of it pinned down, but my thoughts remain the same. It is only my action of which I have chosen to change, in this case, my decision to not take action. Yet considering the world once again, there are those who are far more south than I am, and it is not strange to note that I am in fact, reasonably normal in such a comparison.

The sum of my experiences may have molded me to think in a way that deviates slightly from one who would have had a different experience, but given that if they had experienced what I have, would they not be any different from me?

I sit on the shoulders of the giants I can reach, in the shadows of those beyond me, and I see the world in a way I don’t find uncommon. It has the good, the bad, the ugly, not unlike what any other person would think. My considerations on the matter often does not stray much from most others though I do often tend to have a more pessimistic and sadistic view of the world, but that stems completely from my sense of selfishness. As would for most others once they would come to accept this as fact I’m sure.

Growing up, I’ve learned to let go of many trains of thoughts. Regret, blame, and pity to name a few. Too often too many humans waste their time and effort wasting away at exercising their rights to these emotions and actions, when one could just as easily be a little more self critical and solve many more things. Yet at the same time I find myself simultaneously giving up hopes, dreams and happiness. To stop pursuing that which I would see then as also being a waste of effort and time. It would seem nowadays I still mostly hold on to this, as much as it might seem a negative quality to many.

Perhaps the most influencial tool I had from my upbringing was the capacity to be self critical. On the one hand, to see oneself as being fallable gives plenty of room for improvement. Though on the other, it did lead to, in my case at the very least, a lot more self blame than most humans would probably encounter. Probably.

The undeniable fact about this however, is that it has given me a much higher willingness to learn, and a much lower self confidence. That is not to say I have not noticed or done anything about it. Emulating confident behaviour is not something particularly hard to do and actions can in fact help invoke the proper thought process, but it is something that does not reflect what I am. That said, if one behaves confidently, speaks confidently, and is capable of putting up a display of confidence, does a cowardice thought process still makes one a coward?

When I think of the fragments of my past that has left its traces onto me, I sometimes find myself being awefully aware of the effect it has given. An almost tingly sensation as my arm starts to feel almost uneasy, almost, waiting for more.

I can’t deny that the idea has crossed my mind time and time again for the past several years of my life. Though substitutes can be imagined and applied, there is nothing quite like it. To simply take all the frustration and anger and uneasiness and discomfort and sadness and despair and loathing and just erase it, just like that. Or having been brought to life out of the cold and numb and repetitive and dead world.

To have such an instant and efficient solution for feeling overwhelmed or fading into nothingness, it seems almost a shame I had willingly kept myself from it.

Poised at The Edge of Addiction

Like how a sober man still calls himself an addict at AA, similarly all addictions never really end, rather they remain in sobriety for only about as long as you can maintain it.

Backed against a fence.

Unlike those who have yet to cross the border of addiction, one who has been stained can never return to purity. Even when sober, you can only ever look at the other side, knowing you will never gain a similar status. Pushing yourself to the edge, the idea of throwing off the label of an addict occurs more than once.

But you know. You know the moment you live as if you had a clean slate its sweet voice will once again call out to you. You KNOW you will answer its call. You KNOW that despite saying it is under control, you feel COMPELLED to respond. Like a moth to a flame you insist your lust and desires are under control knowing at the back of your mind they are not. You lie to yourself as long as you can ignore the problem at hand and at the of the day lie broken, used, insisting you knew what was going on.


Fighting an upward battle against a shadow of yourself. A shadow you know you can never erase or hide. A shadow that knows your every move and strategy. The only way to win is to let the shadow join you.