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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So far most of my blog posts have either been about me being afraid of dying or about gacha games. I’ll try my best to write one now that is about neither of them.

… I guess I already failed.

In other news, I tried a bunch of different gacha games I hadn’t tried before recently. Princess Connect Re:dive had a nice story but the gameplay mechanics were forgettable, and Epic Seven was just a straight up better version of Summoners War that I played for half a year. Still not sure what game to spend more of my time on.

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Nothing to laugh about

March 15, 2021

A couple of years ago I went to a gathering with friends and one of the guys had organized this game. All of us got a paper slip about someone else there and had to yell “bingo” or something when the person on the slip did a specific thing. The one about me was that I say “lol”. The guy with that slip won almost immediately after I stepped in the door, when he told some silly joke.

I didn’t realize it then, but I just did now – I’ve lost the ability to laugh. I just say “lol” out loud. Even when I’m alone. It’s quite weird. If I think about it, I’m not even sure how long ago it was the last time I actually laughed like a normal person.

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