And who says everything needs to be titled, anyway? Ah, yes, my OCD!

I think what I hate most about myself is my lack of liveliness. I don´t take any real interest in life and it´s possibilities. Even as a kid, I shied away from it when I said I was going to be a writer. I didn´t say that because I liked to write. I said that because as a writer you don´t have to work with other people. You don´t have to do anything at all. You can just stay at home. You don´t even have to get dressed in the morning or whenever you get up. I never wanted to be alive and I never wanted anything to do with this world. I´m a zombie. I was reasonably happy when I was working at the library feeding the online catalogue, alone in a room with a computer. When I was taking acting classes, which officially counts as a great, liberating, artsy activity, I was thinking about suicide every day I left the classroom. How does that make sense? Does something inside of me hate myself?

The answer is probably yes, but it´s different than I think. It´s not me who´s being hated, I´m the one who hates. I hate that cold, numb, grey thing inside of me that stands between me and the world and yet I´m afraid that´s all I am. It´s simply so that I don´t need any of the dreams this world tells us to live. I live in my head, and as long as this world leaves me the fuck alone I´m quite happy there. Like I said, I´m a zombie. Even Athena said that to me, and she might have been right. What she was wrong about is that I was so by my own free will. In fact, she knows fuck all and she can go fuck herself.

I think there´d be plenty of things I´d be happy to do if the road to get there wasn´t plastered with meeting people, and talking to people, and convincing people and pleasing people. I will absolutely always fail because of this. Not because I totally can´t manage people, but because it kills my motivation. It´s a universal dealbreaker. I´ve avoided deciding on a goal exactly because of this. Therefor, I spent all my life committing myself to cop-outs. Becoming a writer, that is, making a living off the dreamworld in my head where I live vicarously. Studying philosophy, which is sure to get you nowhere on the job market unless you really know how to sell yourself. And because all those are cop-outs, I do not really like any of it and I don´t get anywhere with it. It´s essentially a big, fat, fucking life lie and I´m tired of it. I don´t want this anymore, but I really don´t have anywhere else to go. I can learn some social skills, I know some of them. I can keep up a conversation with my hairdresser if I focus really hard. But all that is no use if the prospect of having to do all that exhausting stuff on top of learning and practicing and working on the professional skills I´ll need drains me before I´ve even started. It kills my motivation. The moment I realize I´ll have to go through a lot of formal and social protocol I don´t feel motivated to pursue a goal anymore.

I can never just be myself without getting negative feedback. I can´t just be silent. I can´t just be lost in thought. I can´t talk about stuff that interests me. It´s funny, something I observed recently when I was out with some people. I felt unable to say anything, I was staring onto my plate because even peoples´ voices made me feel sick, and then the topic shifted to serial killers and suddenly I had no problem talking. We were speaking English, and normally my English sounds a little bit clumsy, or like I´m stealing lines from sitcoms, and now, all of a sudden, I had my own words. It was no problem at all. Of course, though, it is very inappropriate to talk about serial killers without making a disgusted face that signals you want to drop the issue as soon as possible, so I shut up again as soon as I could make myself do so, not without feeling like I was being obnoxious anyway.

I don´t think there´s any real chance for happiness for me out there. People don´t like it when I behave in a way that´s natural for me. I´m not even sure I know how to be me. It doesn´t make me happy to talk to someone about something that interests me if very soon I realize they don´t share that interest at all. “Just be yourself” is neither an option nor a solution for me, but I´m tired of trying to be someone else. In fact, I´m so tired that I´m about to just ignore the deadline for my paper, ignore the follow-up letters and pretend nothing had ever happened. I wonder how long I´d get away with lying about it. To make it clear: I wouldn´t lie out of shame because I don´t think not graduating from college would be an intellectual failure on my part. I´d just lie so that people leave me the fuck alone. I could actually pull this off because I don´t know anyone at uni anyway. I wouldn´t even have to be scared I´d run into anyone, and even if: If I yelled at them “no, I quit, I failed, call it what you like, I just didn´t want to do this anymore!” , at least I´d be myself.  The most authentic thing I could do would be to scream and throw dishes. It would accurately portray how I´m feeling.

How did I used to deal with people before Athena rendered me a mental wreck? I analyzed them, and damn quickly. It was a merciless, but often accurate portray of their personality which I could use to categorize people so I didn´t feel completely inadequate around them, like it is now. Humans made sense to me. Then I realized there´s another dimension to human contacts. You can´t go around and give people an autopsy protocol of their psyche. It actually does things to them, like hurt them, and that might be worth taking seriously. This reaction, their view of me, was a bit of a blind spot. Considering this is like trying to see in 3D when your brain can only perceive two dimensions. Maybe this is the part of empathy which I fail at. Still do, even though now I willfully don´t see things anymore. I try to be “open-minded”. I analyze people and then tell myself not to be judgmental because “how shall I know!”. And yet analyzing is one way of being myself. I miss it.

I think the reason why I stopped being this way was Athena. It´s exactly what she did to me. Give me an autopsy protocol of my psyche. Telling me what unconscious motives I had. Her respect for me depended on how much I needed to delude myself about myself – and on how willing I was to change.

I hate what I´ve become. And this isn´t facilitated by the fact that according to society I should hate what I was and be glad about what I became. That thought is so perverted it is nauseating. I want to go back to being the person I was, I want to never let Athena into my mind, I want to dissect hers and see her spend the rest of her life living in a trailer park with a bipolar meth addict. I don´t want to be a lost sheep who´s trying to integrate herself into the herd. I don´t want to work on my ability to be social and to love and to be nice to people. I don´t want to try to become something I´ll never be any good at anyway. And yet I feel like I have no other choice because I failed at being who I was, too. I´m no good at it. I have to many biases, feelings, needs for approval. I´m too shaken, I´m too aware that there are three dimensions, so aware that I´ve become unable even to set boundaries or fight. I´m useless, I´m neither here nor there, and the person who made me so didn´t even have the decency to make sure I don´t have to live on like this.

I used to be emotionally self-sufficient to a high degree, but now I simply can´t live with myself anymore. I can´t feel good anymore. Maybe I need to learn to be myself again. Maybe I need to go out there and mentally slice apart some people. Maybe I need to make my own, cruel, unkind sense of the world. And maybe even the thought revolts me because you cannot plan this. It either happens or it doesn´t.

Maybe I just stopped being myself because I´d rather not experience the kind of pain and rejection again I tend to get for it. Being yourself without any positive feedback doesn´t feel like a very desirable thing to do. Maybe that IS a way to effectively snuff out a person. Or at least their personality. And I don´t think I´m well equipped to fight back.

Oh god, I don´t know. I´m so overloaded I cannot think straight anymore. I´m amazed I write in whole sentences.

 

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