s00ngone
All you can feel is the weather
- Mar 21, 2025
- 118
In a way, sharing the world with others is a cause for my desire to ctb. How messed up is that?
There was a period, however brief, where I wanted to be a therapist. (At least, that's what I thought, and would've told anybody who asked.) My own therapist suggested it, told me I'd make a good one, so I agreed that I would. Considered going to school for it. Took one single psychology course, the only thing I could make it through at my community college. Statistics and public speaking were a bust after that - it's just pathological at this point, I fear. College doesn't even feel like an option. School and I are just diametrically opposed, or something about me is incompatible with the academic process. Maybe I'm truly antisocial, as I've alluded to before.
With my world constricted by agoraphobia, solipsism and my only real exposure to people outside of my immediate family being through YouTube anymore (after all the spiritual/magical-thinking bullshit I described in "The blankness" earlier on my profile), people seem like a surreal concept to me. Life itself is surreal enough - knowing that there are 7 or 8 billion others, including everyone on this forum, all with their own selves, opinions, thoughts, experiences, their own lives and marches towards the grave?
To even consider that I have an extended family who I haven't seen in ages and who my ctb will invariably blindside, much as it will my immediate family... there's one part of me that's been ready for it for months, and another major part that keeps reevaluating, bargaining, and coming up empty. Again and again and again. I try to look at it this way or that way to try to get around it, but no, it's just what it is.
I always, always saw the world as some kind of carousel of absurdity. Mukbangs juxtaposed with the starving unhoused. The lonely reality of people in their homes talking to cameras and editing their videos in solitude - something about it perturbs me. Is it humanity itself? I've wondered, lately, whether it would matter to me if I could have the kind of life that these foodies and luxury travel vloggers and what have you have, or even simply the Vancouver daydream I had bought into so fleetingly while with my (sounds so strange to say...) ex-boyfriend... but no, I wouldn't care. It wouldn't make a difference.
It all seems like screaming into the void. To me, anyway. I make no claims about anyone else's time on this Earth, or the value of the very real and consequential experiences through the eyes of people less intrinsically jaded than me. Nothing encapsulates this sense of arbitrariness more to me than a particular series by this YouTuber baochitravels, "unique things to do in [x place]", where she's making custom phone cases and visiting interactive museums with rooms designed to take selfies in, etc. etc.
If life is about the experiences... what do you do when you can't be bothered to experience? That's what baffles me about my current predicament. Nothing I could possibly do would stem the void, it feels like. To picture even another year of this is torture enough. Now, 40? 60? No. Not even to attend my sister's graduation or be there to meet her children. Not for the world.
Does anyone else feel remotely similar?
There was a period, however brief, where I wanted to be a therapist. (At least, that's what I thought, and would've told anybody who asked.) My own therapist suggested it, told me I'd make a good one, so I agreed that I would. Considered going to school for it. Took one single psychology course, the only thing I could make it through at my community college. Statistics and public speaking were a bust after that - it's just pathological at this point, I fear. College doesn't even feel like an option. School and I are just diametrically opposed, or something about me is incompatible with the academic process. Maybe I'm truly antisocial, as I've alluded to before.
With my world constricted by agoraphobia, solipsism and my only real exposure to people outside of my immediate family being through YouTube anymore (after all the spiritual/magical-thinking bullshit I described in "The blankness" earlier on my profile), people seem like a surreal concept to me. Life itself is surreal enough - knowing that there are 7 or 8 billion others, including everyone on this forum, all with their own selves, opinions, thoughts, experiences, their own lives and marches towards the grave?
To even consider that I have an extended family who I haven't seen in ages and who my ctb will invariably blindside, much as it will my immediate family... there's one part of me that's been ready for it for months, and another major part that keeps reevaluating, bargaining, and coming up empty. Again and again and again. I try to look at it this way or that way to try to get around it, but no, it's just what it is.
I always, always saw the world as some kind of carousel of absurdity. Mukbangs juxtaposed with the starving unhoused. The lonely reality of people in their homes talking to cameras and editing their videos in solitude - something about it perturbs me. Is it humanity itself? I've wondered, lately, whether it would matter to me if I could have the kind of life that these foodies and luxury travel vloggers and what have you have, or even simply the Vancouver daydream I had bought into so fleetingly while with my (sounds so strange to say...) ex-boyfriend... but no, I wouldn't care. It wouldn't make a difference.
It all seems like screaming into the void. To me, anyway. I make no claims about anyone else's time on this Earth, or the value of the very real and consequential experiences through the eyes of people less intrinsically jaded than me. Nothing encapsulates this sense of arbitrariness more to me than a particular series by this YouTuber baochitravels, "unique things to do in [x place]", where she's making custom phone cases and visiting interactive museums with rooms designed to take selfies in, etc. etc.
If life is about the experiences... what do you do when you can't be bothered to experience? That's what baffles me about my current predicament. Nothing I could possibly do would stem the void, it feels like. To picture even another year of this is torture enough. Now, 40? 60? No. Not even to attend my sister's graduation or be there to meet her children. Not for the world.
Does anyone else feel remotely similar?
