chukopops
Iron
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2024
- Posts
- 66
- Reputation
- 60
I just turned 20, but I was working until close yesterday. I hope it gets better. I don’t have a problem being alone, but I do struggle with loneliness at times. On the bright side, I was at a party two days ago, so maybe I am social sometimes. These vents are really a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of thing.
I’m sitting in my room right now and I just had steak and avocado, no cake. It’s strange how birthdays become less important as you get older. To be honest, they haven’t mattered to me since I was about 12. I remember in high school, whenever it was someone’s birthday, I would post a story tagging them on Snapchat or send them a message wishing them a happy birthday. But when it was my birthday, I got literally zero well-wishes. It made me wonder if I was that unimportant to people. Now it’s even quieter. The only messages I received were from my family and my landlord telling me my rent is overdue.
Still, I believe there is a bright side. I have a book haul that I really want to work through, and right now I’m reading A Hero of Our Time. I feel like it perfectly describes not my personality, but the state of the world I find myself in, something so stifling and detestable that you can’t even reach for higher things or have ambition because there’s no real crisis or wave of change. Instead, there are just two polar opposites tearing each other apart: on one side, vileness, and on the other, degeneracy and filth. It’s all so tiresome.
Despite that, I don’t want to succumb to it. I crave going against the grain and reaching for something higher, whether that turns out to be good or bad.
Regardless, I don’t think it’s all bad. I’ve never cared much for birthdays anyway, because my past experiences around them haven’t given me much reason to. I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m an adult. I feel like I’ve failed, but at the same time, I don’t fully believe that. I believe and I hope, and I’m reassured that I am improving, even if I can’t see it clearly right now. I know it’s happening.
I’m sitting in my room right now and I just had steak and avocado, no cake. It’s strange how birthdays become less important as you get older. To be honest, they haven’t mattered to me since I was about 12. I remember in high school, whenever it was someone’s birthday, I would post a story tagging them on Snapchat or send them a message wishing them a happy birthday. But when it was my birthday, I got literally zero well-wishes. It made me wonder if I was that unimportant to people. Now it’s even quieter. The only messages I received were from my family and my landlord telling me my rent is overdue.
Still, I believe there is a bright side. I have a book haul that I really want to work through, and right now I’m reading A Hero of Our Time. I feel like it perfectly describes not my personality, but the state of the world I find myself in, something so stifling and detestable that you can’t even reach for higher things or have ambition because there’s no real crisis or wave of change. Instead, there are just two polar opposites tearing each other apart: on one side, vileness, and on the other, degeneracy and filth. It’s all so tiresome.
Despite that, I don’t want to succumb to it. I crave going against the grain and reaching for something higher, whether that turns out to be good or bad.
Regardless, I don’t think it’s all bad. I’ve never cared much for birthdays anyway, because my past experiences around them haven’t given me much reason to. I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m an adult. I feel like I’ve failed, but at the same time, I don’t fully believe that. I believe and I hope, and I’m reassured that I am improving, even if I can’t see it clearly right now. I know it’s happening.
