Abandoned Character
(he./him)
- Mar 24, 2023
- 261
I want to say something here that perfectly encapsulates the way I feel. Nothing I type seems to fill that void. There is something deep within my brain that I want to let out, but it feels like a losing battle.
I don't know what it is, this anxiety.
I wish it had definite form, I wish I could see my anxiety for what it is.
I wish I could exist without it; but who, or what, would I be then?
I have everything but the will to do anything. I am the product of rich parents that failed to instil a sense of internal discipline into their child. I am sloth incarnate. I am undeserving of your sympathy, as I am old enough to be responsible for my own choices.
I do not have the respect of my childhood friends. In college, when it seemed like I was working towards something, I had their respect. They looked at me as someone who was accomplishing something. Now, a delinquent NEET for over a year, I've made it clear to everyone around me that I do not want to participate in this world, and the kicker is that I have yet to be punished. Insulated by an enabling, yet increasingly impatient father, I am not a good influence. I used to inspire those around me, now I get out of bed by the time others return from work. I need to get a job, get out of the house. I need to grow up and quit sucking the tit of my parents' generosity.
Responsibility, a necessary component to a fulfilled life. If I want to improve my life situation, I have to accept responsibility--what form that takes does not matter. I am deluded, isolated from the suffering of the world, and so I cannot expect what I know will work for me will work for others. I so badly want to inspire others to find their purpose, but oh how naive of me to think I am capable of that when I haven't even found mine with all that I already have?
I wish I didn't exist, but I do. And there are too many external factors making suicide an unfavorable option. And so, my only option is to throw myself headfirst into the waters of uncertainty, of discomfort. May this post serve as a declaration to myself that I will get a service job. I pause at that statement. I loathe pressing enter, speaking out into the world that this is something I dedicate myself to. Speaking with reason, if I don't pursue a service job, the only other way to obtain responsibility is to finish my degree. And, to be frank, the degree makes me want to blow my brains out more than anything else (something I haven't fully admitted to myself until now). So, Abandoned Character, what will you do? Continue to float in the waters of self-pity and rot, or accept the nature of your organism and take responsibility for being alive?
The inner toddler screams. He wants his marshmallow, and he also wants the reward for not eating it. Like a river cutting through stone, the inner toddler is a deep canyon that will continue to make itself known. That is the battle, is saying "no" hundreds, thousands of times a day.
I don't know what it is, this anxiety.
I wish it had definite form, I wish I could see my anxiety for what it is.
I wish I could exist without it; but who, or what, would I be then?
I have everything but the will to do anything. I am the product of rich parents that failed to instil a sense of internal discipline into their child. I am sloth incarnate. I am undeserving of your sympathy, as I am old enough to be responsible for my own choices.
I do not have the respect of my childhood friends. In college, when it seemed like I was working towards something, I had their respect. They looked at me as someone who was accomplishing something. Now, a delinquent NEET for over a year, I've made it clear to everyone around me that I do not want to participate in this world, and the kicker is that I have yet to be punished. Insulated by an enabling, yet increasingly impatient father, I am not a good influence. I used to inspire those around me, now I get out of bed by the time others return from work. I need to get a job, get out of the house. I need to grow up and quit sucking the tit of my parents' generosity.
Responsibility, a necessary component to a fulfilled life. If I want to improve my life situation, I have to accept responsibility--what form that takes does not matter. I am deluded, isolated from the suffering of the world, and so I cannot expect what I know will work for me will work for others. I so badly want to inspire others to find their purpose, but oh how naive of me to think I am capable of that when I haven't even found mine with all that I already have?
I wish I didn't exist, but I do. And there are too many external factors making suicide an unfavorable option. And so, my only option is to throw myself headfirst into the waters of uncertainty, of discomfort. May this post serve as a declaration to myself that I will get a service job. I pause at that statement. I loathe pressing enter, speaking out into the world that this is something I dedicate myself to. Speaking with reason, if I don't pursue a service job, the only other way to obtain responsibility is to finish my degree. And, to be frank, the degree makes me want to blow my brains out more than anything else (something I haven't fully admitted to myself until now). So, Abandoned Character, what will you do? Continue to float in the waters of self-pity and rot, or accept the nature of your organism and take responsibility for being alive?
The inner toddler screams. He wants his marshmallow, and he also wants the reward for not eating it. Like a river cutting through stone, the inner toddler is a deep canyon that will continue to make itself known. That is the battle, is saying "no" hundreds, thousands of times a day.
