Prøphet
Lust for comfort murders the passions of the soul.
- Joined
- Dec 28, 2024
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I used to have the energy to orient myself toward a goal and actually pursue it. Now I’m just all talk and no do. I feel pretty much locked where I am until i can finally get my surgery to fix my strabismus. But it still drives me crazy to sit here. Even if it’s the option that will hurt the least. I wish I could not give a fuck and put my trauma aside and just go out in the world and live the way I am as a deformed subhuman. I wish I could embrace the bad with the good. I wish I could brush off the rude comments and the untold discrimination like it’s just water. I wish I could look in the mirror and convince myself there’s nothing disgusting there. But it’s too much for me to ignore. Instead I decided to live in a different type of illusion. I feel like I broke my legs to avoid climbing up a steep mountain. I became so scared of failure I locked myself away in a vacuum to deny any experience, whatsoever. I used to be alone by circumstance, now I’m alone by choice. My life is a carefully curated series of avoidances to keep up some sort of delusion that manages to fool myself.
The worst part is I am aware of it all deep down under the layers of willful ignorance I have constructed, but I feel like I could look for an answer for a million years, and still come up empty handed.
The worst part is I am aware of it all deep down under the layers of willful ignorance I have constructed, but I feel like I could look for an answer for a million years, and still come up empty handed.
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