Arthas
Iron
- Joined
- Mar 8, 2025
- Posts
- 42
- Reputation
- 37
I'm writing a paper on Nietzsche right now, and something hit me — he actually had this idea that resonates a lot:
You shouldn't regret doing something just because it ended badly.
The idea is that your actions shouldn't be judged by their outcomes, but by the reasons and intentions behind them. It's very Nietzschean — ties right into amor fati.
That concept used to help me live without regrets.
But now, looking back — especially at everything since grade 7 or 8 — I realize most of the crap I did came from insecurity.
I was already deep in the blackpill mindset. Not just looks — but the whole belief that life is predetermined. If you were born worse, you stay worse. No amount of effort changes that. I genuinely believed I was doomed to fail.
I remember skipping tournaments — volleyball, basketball — just telling myself:
And at the same time, I had this stupid arrogance:
Has anything changed since then?
Honestly? Not much.
I hit the gym and benched 115kg in my first week. That gave me instant validation from friends — and I just stopped there. I didn’t even try to go further.
But the moment I saw guys benching 170+ — I dropped the idea of ever catching up naturally. Started googling peptides and steroids. That’s where I ended up — on gear. One of the many reasons why.
There was also this constant need to prove I’m “man enough.” People always questioned it. I still believe a lot of them were just born better — so I compensated. PEDs. A strong deadlift, helped by my ideal proportions for it.
And for the first time, I set a real goal: not just to be enough, but to go beyond.
But that didn’t last.
I hit a wall, again.
Haven’t even deadlifted 300kg yet. The world record in my weight class? No. In open? Still 260kg away.
Maybe I was right from the beginning — maybe I am doomed to never be great.
And don’t get me started on studying.
My desire to be top of the class died during the first trimester.
Now I don’t feel anything — no adrenaline, no motivation.
Yeah, I still enjoy reading stuff, writing a bit, talking to people.
But chasing good grades? Nah. Gone.
I literally read Kant just for myself. All I had to do was present something at the seminar. Couldn’t even do that. Got bored.
And now I’ve got 7 make-ups to do.
My apathy led me right into a bigger mess.
Same with work.
Why get a job if my parents support me?
They tell me not to stress about it anyway.
Moving out? Why bother?
Everything feels... gray. Flat. Nothing excites me.
I even stopped making TikToks and shorts, even though I was making money off them.
Now I just take on random coding gigs from some post-Soviet guys — Kazakhstan or wherever — just to cover my dependency.
And what do I do most of the time?
Scroll TikTok. Not because I enjoy it, but because it’s easy. It helps me pass the time.
I play fucking Dota — a game I absolutely hate — because I can disappear into it.
It’s my escape. My little cave.
But I want to feel again.
I want that anxiety. That fear. That moment where I push through it and do it anyway.
I want to feel alive.
The first dunk I ever made — I’ll never forget that. But there was no defender. No one trying to stop me.
I want to know what I’d do if someone was there.
I want to break through them.
I want that challenge.
In everything.
You shouldn't regret doing something just because it ended badly.
The idea is that your actions shouldn't be judged by their outcomes, but by the reasons and intentions behind them. It's very Nietzschean — ties right into amor fati.
That concept used to help me live without regrets.
But now, looking back — especially at everything since grade 7 or 8 — I realize most of the crap I did came from insecurity.
I was already deep in the blackpill mindset. Not just looks — but the whole belief that life is predetermined. If you were born worse, you stay worse. No amount of effort changes that. I genuinely believed I was doomed to fail.
I remember skipping tournaments — volleyball, basketball — just telling myself:
Or not studying for olympiads because:
And at the same time, I had this stupid arrogance:
That mix — of insecurity and ego — built this mindset of:
Has anything changed since then?
Honestly? Not much.
I hit the gym and benched 115kg in my first week. That gave me instant validation from friends — and I just stopped there. I didn’t even try to go further.
But the moment I saw guys benching 170+ — I dropped the idea of ever catching up naturally. Started googling peptides and steroids. That’s where I ended up — on gear. One of the many reasons why.
There was also this constant need to prove I’m “man enough.” People always questioned it. I still believe a lot of them were just born better — so I compensated. PEDs. A strong deadlift, helped by my ideal proportions for it.
And for the first time, I set a real goal: not just to be enough, but to go beyond.
But that didn’t last.
I hit a wall, again.
Haven’t even deadlifted 300kg yet. The world record in my weight class? No. In open? Still 260kg away.
Maybe I was right from the beginning — maybe I am doomed to never be great.
And don’t get me started on studying.
My desire to be top of the class died during the first trimester.
Now I don’t feel anything — no adrenaline, no motivation.
Yeah, I still enjoy reading stuff, writing a bit, talking to people.
But chasing good grades? Nah. Gone.
I literally read Kant just for myself. All I had to do was present something at the seminar. Couldn’t even do that. Got bored.
And now I’ve got 7 make-ups to do.
My apathy led me right into a bigger mess.
Same with work.
Why get a job if my parents support me?
They tell me not to stress about it anyway.
Moving out? Why bother?
Everything feels... gray. Flat. Nothing excites me.
I even stopped making TikToks and shorts, even though I was making money off them.
Now I just take on random coding gigs from some post-Soviet guys — Kazakhstan or wherever — just to cover my dependency.
And what do I do most of the time?
Scroll TikTok. Not because I enjoy it, but because it’s easy. It helps me pass the time.
I play fucking Dota — a game I absolutely hate — because I can disappear into it.
It’s my escape. My little cave.
But I want to feel again.
I want that anxiety. That fear. That moment where I push through it and do it anyway.
I want to feel alive.
The first dunk I ever made — I’ll never forget that. But there was no defender. No one trying to stop me.
I want to know what I’d do if someone was there.
I want to break through them.
I want that challenge.
In everything.
