toji.
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- Oct 8, 2023
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Lately, I've been feeling introspective. At 22 years old, my life hasn’t been what I’d call ideal—not because I haven’t achieved things or experienced love and friendship, but because, despite it all, I feel like I haven’t been happy enough. Life, especially in recent times, seems to have taken its toll on me. The years are slipping by faster and faster. The past feels like yesterday, and it’s hard to believe that nearly six years have passed since 2018. I fear the future will bring the same fleeting sense of time.
I feel as though I haven’t received everything I deserved, nor what I deserve now. My life is clouded by regret, longing, and hazy dreams. I am neither ready to fully live in the present nor prepared to face the idea of dying.
Without dwelling on a "blackpill" perspective, I believe that appearances—and every action that undermines a person’s confidence—play a fundamental role in the way I’ve been feeling for years. What if I were the best version of myself? Not just in appearance, but in health, intellect, and skills? Would I still feel dissatisfied? Would I finally be happy? Honestly, I doubt it—but I’d pursue that ideal just to experience what it means to live well, to feel pride in knowing I’d done everything possible to reach the well-being I’ve always imagined.
Deep down, I know I cannot reclaim the past 10 years, nor can I have the loves I truly desired. Not because of my appearance or abilities, but due to fate, a lack of prudence, and poor insight.
If I had experienced those loves, would I be happier? Probably not. I am, after all, an individualistic dreamer. But to have lived those moments might have brought me both joy and sorrow—the joy of love and the sadness of realizing it might never align with my personal ideals or current happiness.
My heart and honor are not broken by lost loves, but by my inability to reciprocate love fully or achieve the goals I’ve desired most.
These thoughts weigh on me, filling me with regret and the persistent belief that if I were completely different, I’d live the best life imaginable. Yet, I cannot bring about that transformation—not at this moment. My nature and immaturity hold me back, leaving me with little else but regret and disdain for who I am now.
I feel as though I haven’t received everything I deserved, nor what I deserve now. My life is clouded by regret, longing, and hazy dreams. I am neither ready to fully live in the present nor prepared to face the idea of dying.
Without dwelling on a "blackpill" perspective, I believe that appearances—and every action that undermines a person’s confidence—play a fundamental role in the way I’ve been feeling for years. What if I were the best version of myself? Not just in appearance, but in health, intellect, and skills? Would I still feel dissatisfied? Would I finally be happy? Honestly, I doubt it—but I’d pursue that ideal just to experience what it means to live well, to feel pride in knowing I’d done everything possible to reach the well-being I’ve always imagined.
Deep down, I know I cannot reclaim the past 10 years, nor can I have the loves I truly desired. Not because of my appearance or abilities, but due to fate, a lack of prudence, and poor insight.
If I had experienced those loves, would I be happier? Probably not. I am, after all, an individualistic dreamer. But to have lived those moments might have brought me both joy and sorrow—the joy of love and the sadness of realizing it might never align with my personal ideals or current happiness.
My heart and honor are not broken by lost loves, but by my inability to reciprocate love fully or achieve the goals I’ve desired most.
These thoughts weigh on me, filling me with regret and the persistent belief that if I were completely different, I’d live the best life imaginable. Yet, I cannot bring about that transformation—not at this moment. My nature and immaturity hold me back, leaving me with little else but regret and disdain for who I am now.
I am sorely wounded, but not slain.
I will lay me down and bleed awhile,
And then rise up to fight again.
I will lay me down and bleed awhile,
And then rise up to fight again.
