Midnight Catharsis

   Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into me. It's 3:33 AM, I'm 9n my bed and typing all of this on my phone, and I'm still feeling like a psuedo-shit because of self-loathing and depressing thoughts. I feel pathetic for relying on others to feel like less of a waste of space, and I feel worse when I come here to rely on catharsis. I think I really do have clinical depression, but then again, if a simple post like this manages to get me through the night, or rather day, then I guess I'm just overreacting to my chronic depression.

   I always told myself that even with a romantic relationships, my problems wouldn't go away and I would still have to solve them by myself. Even after all my self-warnings, I still manage to deceive myself into false hopes that I know won't yield any results. It's not my girlfriends fault, it's just that I refuse to change. I guess not even 3 years of blogging about it will make a difference. In truth, maybe I'm scared of changing for the better, and I understood that fear immediately because I can already justify it.

   Changing for your own honest benefit is good. For example, working out or studying for a subject when you're a lazy person is a good change, and you'll eventually get the results you want through time and effort.  You'd get a girlfriend, pass the subject and maybe top the class... Which sound great. Change is a nice mechanic. But what I hate about that fact is that we can only adhere to the demands of our wants in order to get them. I guess what I'm trying to say is that "You'll only be liked if ______" is a bad subconscious bias we all have. You can never be truly yourself because maybe your own habits and character are frowned upon society and then you're suddenly pressured to change in order to "adapt". You can't be you unless the you is accepted by many. The person you become when society accepts you is nice,  but it feels like they only like the new you, and the old new was forgotten with a "good riddance" in mind. It's a horrible justification because aside from me being lazy, I guess I'm also the one at the bad end of the spectrum, being unattractive and having low self-esteem. I'm not condemning my strong points, it's just that my weak points are the ones that are usually seen at face value, so in the end, my strong points are found only if you're that much interested in finding them, so in the end, I either rot or make the effort not to, and that just sounds like a lot of b*tching and whining in retrospect, but I guess even the best of us needs an outlet from time to time. Unfortunately, I bottle things up pretty quickly, so this is just one out of many redundant posts.

   I guess this post just melts down to "Life is unfair, f*ck my life". I guess I just needed to make that phrase into something self-gratifying, but nonetheless I still feel like pseudo-shit even after all that catharsis, and everything I write is just a remix of itself, but with added vocabulary to spice things up. My best guess is that I skipped all the other steps of denial and went straight to acceptance, and it STAYED at acceptance, and even there, everything is crumbling apart or I'm imagining it crumble apart, but either way it feels like I'm being torn apart, It feels like everything I do is wrong, or if I'm right, I feel like I'm always missing something else entirely. It's like I have a knife and I can't stop stabbing myself. It makes no sense to everyone else, I know, and there's no better way of putting it. In the end I just decide to bottle-up what I can't let out, and wait for myself to spit it back out again.

   It's a vicious cycle of regurgitating my feelings into text, but sometimes I throw up a little hope in the mix. The hope that maybe there's an answer in the form of words that will trigger me to set aside all of this.Maybe I'll actually convince myself that there are worse things to worry about, instead of always just realizing that and putting off ranting for a while until I can't take it anymore. Maybe there really is light at the end of the tunnel, or maybe I'll realize that I should stop building the tunnel as I go. Maybe in the story of two wolves, I'll finally stop feeding hate and sadness, and start feeding hope and joy. Maybe.