I feel like this, really.

Sigh all my .. ulterior motives are coming back again. At least I know they’re there? Something that’s occurred to me over and over again in the past don’t-know-how-long: ignorance is short-lived and painful bliss. Reality is comforting, but then again maybe that’s because I choose the nicest reality (reality is perception) and oh I get nowhere. And ah am I allowed a rant? Just a short one: I actually feel worried by not having enough time to worry about things because there are so many things I feel responsible for and tied to and it’s just. There is so unbelievably much heavy stuff going on that I’m not even crying or freaking out I’m just utterly bewildered. Do I need support? Is that true, that I should share my burdens with people who care for me? Will I be okay if I keep on being a clam? I sound melodramatic ahahah. Too bad.

I feel like I’m my own psychiatrist. I hate that, yet I do it all the time. I analyze myself to the core and explain everything and go about doing absolutely nothing constructive. I come up with theories about people and behavior and test them out and everything and feel superbly fulfilled when they seem to be true – How horrible. How lovely. How pretentiously altruistic and intellectual rolled into one happy fat and above all, opaque package that people call Wisdom or Maturity and sometimes I call it that too and feel good about it, sigh.

I wish I could think less. Lately certain persons have really demonstrated to me, by doing nothing extraordinary, that it’s a happy and good and nice thing, thinking less and loving more. Being thankful and letting things slip and not being so self-righteous and exacting – it’s not impressive, it’s not glamourous but I’d like to be like that. You see precisely the fact that I have to go through one big loop of rationalizing to decide to think less is ironic and points towards failure. No, actually. I’m just scared to let go of what I pride myself on.

Ahh. Stop it.

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