In pretty much every possible respect I was useless and incapable of progress, unable to pursue my own contentment in a manner which could possibly be successful. Rather I would do the opposite, I would simply do nothing other than attempt to accept my life and give up on my desires. Except that this effort wasn't genuine, I didn't go down this path due to believing that it was the best possible option, or because I believed that I could succeed, rather my fear and mental blocks (belief in my own powerlessness and failure) made progress impossible. Yet I would cope and tell myself that I was somehow better for it, despite being forced into that lifestyle and nowhere near strong enough to achieve anything of the sort that I preached.
It used to be that I would post at length about how the entire process of life was disgusting, cruel, and how I wanted nothing more than to see it all end. Well I still do I guess, but now I barely even care. The truth is that the main reason it all bothered me so much had nothing to do with life in general, nor was it due to the plight of anyone or anything else alive. What I actually despised was my own weakness, I despised myself for failing to be self-reliant and strong, however I also projected it onto everything else. But was just a coward. I was in no way better or more ethical, I only bitched about the game because I was a loser. Basically I used an illusion of morality as a shield and redirected my anger at the world so that I wouldn't have to face the truth about being a broken creature. I hated this world because I couldn't succeed within it, not because I'm better than any other predator.
All of it seems so silly and ridiculous to me now. But in some ways it feels as if I'm becoming the person whom I actually should've been, rather than dysfunctional rotter like before. When the fear, learned helplessness, and anxiety fades, this is who I actually am. It's such a strange feeling.
It used to be that I would post at length about how the entire process of life was disgusting, cruel, and how I wanted nothing more than to see it all end. Well I still do I guess, but now I barely even care. The truth is that the main reason it all bothered me so much had nothing to do with life in general, nor was it due to the plight of anyone or anything else alive. What I actually despised was my own weakness, I despised myself for failing to be self-reliant and strong, however I also projected it onto everything else. But was just a coward. I was in no way better or more ethical, I only bitched about the game because I was a loser. Basically I used an illusion of morality as a shield and redirected my anger at the world so that I wouldn't have to face the truth about being a broken creature. I hated this world because I couldn't succeed within it, not because I'm better than any other predator.
All of it seems so silly and ridiculous to me now. But in some ways it feels as if I'm becoming the person whom I actually should've been, rather than dysfunctional rotter like before. When the fear, learned helplessness, and anxiety fades, this is who I actually am. It's such a strange feeling.
