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Wanna get stabbed?

August 3, 2021

Back in ’98 I used to be the biggest fan of the TV show “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”. It was totally my favorite thing. I owned a life-size poster of Sarah Michelle Gellar, which I was too ashamed to put up on my wall as it showed too much cleavage. I also had a coffee mug with her imagery, up until the time that I had a party with my friends where we got drunk at my place, ran naked around the neighbourhood, and after getting back inside I tried to make a cocktail of coke and fortified wine into the Buffy coffee mug, but alas I was too drunk so I broke the mug, and with that came an end to the era of my fandom for her.

Anyway, where I got that mug from – it was a present from a classmate at a school christmas party. The present I received was amazing, and the party was nice. Being an introvert already then, I took a break from the party at one point and went to get some ice cream. The raspberry ice cream with white chocolate toppings was great as always, it had long been my favorite. I ate it and walked back to school. But before I got back, some dudes on the street grabbed me and pulled me into a side alley, searched me, grabbed my cell phone, and ran away with it. I ran after one of them, into the backyard of a nearby house, and demanded my phone back. He didn’t want to return it, instead he asked what I have in my bag. I guess he was hoping for more valuables. I told him that it’s just a coffee mug I have there. Then he just beat me up and left me lying on the ground. Even though I was a fucking little kid. At least I kept the cup, intact for ten more years. Anyway, that’s why nowadays I always carry a knife with me whenever I go out.

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Today was the first day since my childhood that I went a full 24 hours without wearing any socks. What a day, I say.

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Some 10 years ago someone suggested I visit some psychic healer lady that supposedly had incredible powers and could look into your past lives. Being kinda desperate to find solutions to my problems, I did as instructed and visited her. Her office was at her apartment, in a poor, shady area of the city. She let me in and asked some questions. I didn’t have an idea what she was gonna do, but I’d had positive experiences before with some masseuses whose hands made me feel like a new person, so I had high expectations for this new healer person.

First of all she asked me when I was born. I told her the date. She then looked the date up in some thick, modern-looking book and told me that according to the wisdom of the ancients my soul has been traversing between bodies and lives and has now reached this point in my current life. And in this current life my goal to advance to the next level of being is to express myself clearly to others, make myself understood.
That’s it? I thought. What a letdown. I guess she was not one blessed with superpowers as the masseuses had been, her only power had been turning pages in a book, which was a severe letdown.

After that I explained some of my issues, and she looked up some stuff in another book, this time checking what points on my body I should be pressing to fix my anxiety and depression. She demonstrated herself how I’m supposed to press them and oh boy that was a painful experience. I could have pressed those points better myself.

After that I paid a rather sizeable sum for her help, and left, dumbfounded. What had just happened? Surely nothing of any help to me. Regardless, even though many years have passed, I still remember the information she gave me, about the meaning of my existence. That I have to learn to make myself clear, to express myself understandably.

I have to admit; explaining your thoughts is pretty hard. I’m super impressed by people who write books and articles about their ideas and manage to make themselves crystal clear to the reader. When I am trying to explain something, I’m fully aware of the topic myself, but I don’t understand what words to use to describe it. I know the topic through and through, but my empathy skills are low, so I just can’t imagine how the reader or listener sees my output. I’m having a hard time even now, explaining that I suck at explaining, rewriting the same sentences again and again but not seeing much improvement.

Anyway, I’m sure this entire business of verbalizing ideas is learnable. Not sure how to practice it though. I guess I might have been practicing while writing this post, but are there any better methods?

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There’s so much suffering in the world, most of which is brought upon us by other people. There are so many evildoers. Evil, or just indifferent, irresponsible people. People who cause others harm, through their greed, hate, selfishness. But just as I feel sorry for all the victims, I also feel sorry for the ones to blame. The people who make others suffer are not doing it because they have a choice. It is simply the result of the way they are. I know it from my own experience. Whenever I’ve made someone feel bad, it wasn’t as though I could have acted any differently. I acted as well as I could. It just turned out the way it did. In my case the misdeeds are minuscule on scale, for some their deeds have global consequences.

I feel sorry for everyone who causes others harm, for everyone who cannot be kind. I think being kind is the ideal way to be, as taught even by ancient religions. But most of us can’t help but just be the people we are and that is pitiable. I believe people act the way they do not because they decided to, but because of everything that had brought them to that point. A person’s genes, memories, their psyche eliminate all options except the one they will follow. And that one option just sometimes sucks balls for everyone involved.

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Nostalgia post

May 14, 2021

Why do I exist? Why is it necessary? Why do I just have to keep causing myself more and more shame and regret that piles up and makes me cause more shame and regret which piles up and makes me regret everything? This blog post is just another action in this chain of countless actions that I will regret later, writing this will make me ashamed of myself but I just can’t stop because this is the only way I can keep going, crawling through this thick white gooey slurpy mess of a life.

I could imagine forgiving myself for writing this post if I were 17 years old as I was when I first wrote a post on this blog, but now that I’m fucking Xty X years old I should know better, know that if I ever want to be hired again then them finding this post will just make me unhireable, just like it did the last time, after which I felt shame and deleted 10 years worth of blog posts.

Oh well. Here I am. Again. Writing this crap on this crap of a crap website.

Anyway, if you are reading this, and I ever hurt your feelings, intruded in your life in some damaging way, said something that was funny to me but traumatizing to you, or whatever, please know that the memory of it still keeps me awake at night, I’m traumatized by it myself, I remember it 7 times per day and each time it makes me feel immense shame, I’m incapable of learning from that shame, I do more of those things so you are not the only victim, but I am paying full price for my actions by feeling absolutely abysmal fucking all the time under this ginormous pile of regrets.

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