anobody

In the last day, for the first time since I started this rando blog, I actually started thinking about what I wanted to write today. This immediately seemed to me a reduction of authenticity. I emptily pride myself in being a practitioner (started exactly two hundred days ago, I got a timer on my phone) of the thoughts that come into my mind.

I could question myself for even thinking I have experienced rebirth. Many people I have met seems to think so. The Man said this “Unless a person is born from above , it’s not possible to see what I’m pointing to—to God’s kingdom.” (Eugene H. P. et. al. 1993). I thought I saw freedom over two hundred days ago. Freedom from the extreme requirements I have self-imposed in this increasingly more demanding technological society. After a favourable year-long encounter with my noble physics teacher (most exemplified by fifty bucks to our class of four to get McDonald’s), I had chosen to take the graduate physics pathway, and was roughly halfway through a Doctor of Philosophy program.

What unravelled it all is a long story for the afterlife (lest Lady Death comes to kiss me tonight in the oft-disturbed darkness of sleep), but here is the rundown. Porn addiction of over a decade devolving to the edge of madness. Seeing a shrink for over a year and more, unravelling my past of frequent, unvisited events of detachment. With a reducing addiction to porn, finding my ancient desires reawakened, and in pure, pathetic desperation reaching out to the only girl that seemed to appear on the scene in January. A few hyper-crazed weeks of conversation with her, then the hammer of incompatibility falls. And I realised how broken my heart was. It revealed the inner, disparate state of my being. My sense perception, in a desperate attempt for perceived originality, constructed a perception that my heart was already broken, and that she did not break it, as the popular narrative goes. Which one is true, I cannot say. Let me hide in this broken Wonderland of a poor soul, like many others.

What a pussy! What a wimp! The barrage of such monsters at the door of my heart do not cease. Much like my dream of last night. I had dreamed a dark shape outside my front door was trying to ram into me house. I was screaming in my dream as I held the door against the dark shape.

Back to those few, fateful weeks. In that time I slowly realised how hellish my insecurities were under the surface, and the path of physics seemed so pathetic and insignificant. I also realised how much of a basket-case I was, and that I would only cause more pain to her if I stayed in her life. But my greed for her acceptance held me back from severing the ties. I was basically waiting for her to reject me. I was told by many to not make hasty decisions, but my God, I have been trying to tip-toe in life for so long. Fuck patience. Fuck wisdom. They are dead to me. They were never real. I was going to find real patience and wisdom. The stuff of legends, not the band-aids of religion. The stuff of truth, not the wishful truth-perceptions that lay scattered all over our mightily confused society.

But I need be careful with making such distinctions. I want to stay in the Middle. I do not want any extremities, anymore pain than necessary. It will be the hardest, but it will also be the safest.

Meanwhile, I keep on with the mantra of “Burn the Ships” (for King & Country et. al. 2018). I burnt my bridge to academia by leaving the Doctor of Philosophy program – officially yesterday. I burnt my bridge to stuff by constantly spending money (more than 5000 dollars out the window, about half of it going to my first and last cremation service – part of the quest to befriend me death (Michelle O. et. al. 2009)). I burnt all my social connections outside my family. The church I was attending. The young adults group. The Bible Study group. Everything except my family. This was my own fucking ark. Like fucking Noah. This is the hill I will die on (Alec B. et. al. 2022).

Here is my fucked up dopamine trip I had yesterday. Just single words (that, in hindsight, devolved into phrases, then actual sentences) to describe the Hedonism I am experimenting with. Writing dis crazy blog. Cleaning me room. Gaming BotWorld. Watching a bit of Rango, matching the days within the movie to my real days . Sleeping like a baby, letting the Niagara Falls out of me mouth, listening to my bedtime story of John (Eugene H. P. et. al. 1993). Showering & masturbating to the drawing of a woman I have virtually married to. Doing my best – using the mode of anger – to quench and push out any other woman that appears in my fucking adulterous mind. To hell with my mind! How animalistic I was in my imagination, coming at her from the back! I reassured myself – with her own imaginary voice – that I will someday rise from my animalistic tendencies. That the most pleasurable fantasy will be of me staring in the girl’s eyes, and being able to truly, non-fakingly say “I see you” while we slowly fuck and make out in my pathetic dream.

The Stoics should be mad at me. Maybe they will have me in their arms on day, after this hedonistic ride fizzles out and loses its lustre.