(no subject)
if i wrote about my experiences as fiction no one would want to read. i mean, no one wants to read what i write anyway, but they would not be interested. not because the events are uninteresting or i can't tell an anecdote, just that i have no inner life.
i mean, i have fantasies. but they're all observed from the outside. they're people looking at or recording me in passing; i have no consciousness from within. without reflections i don't exist.
"how do you feel about that" is still an impossible question to answer. mostly how i feel about any given interaction with a person or anything that can be anthropomorphised or anything that potentially has an audience is:
1. i am doing everything wrong
2. this is going to end in punishment
to an extent most of what i do is trying to stave off inevitable punishment or win a brief reprieve from indifference or outright opprobrium. in my last therapy session i was asked how it made me feel to consider the possibility that i would be missed, that i had had an impact.
i squirmed. i think i said something dismissive. it feels like hot, wet sand in my brain. "consider that people might miss you"
no? that would mean:
1. they exist when i'm not there
2. they are capable of having feelings other than the ones i assign for them
3. i am not in control of this
4. there is something i can lose and i am not in control of it
you can sit there and tell me repeatedly to my face that you love me and miss me and that i have meaning in your life and i will twist those words or denigrate your capability to make that decision and i will keep doing it until what you say stops making me uncomfortable. value renders me tortured; lack of it renders me non-existent, so i have to pursue it. there is no good outcome.
so how does someone like me write good, relatable characters that touch people's hearts?
he doesn't!
and that is why i will never be a popular writer. because i am a failure as a human being.
the end.
i mean, i have fantasies. but they're all observed from the outside. they're people looking at or recording me in passing; i have no consciousness from within. without reflections i don't exist.
"how do you feel about that" is still an impossible question to answer. mostly how i feel about any given interaction with a person or anything that can be anthropomorphised or anything that potentially has an audience is:
1. i am doing everything wrong
2. this is going to end in punishment
to an extent most of what i do is trying to stave off inevitable punishment or win a brief reprieve from indifference or outright opprobrium. in my last therapy session i was asked how it made me feel to consider the possibility that i would be missed, that i had had an impact.
i squirmed. i think i said something dismissive. it feels like hot, wet sand in my brain. "consider that people might miss you"
no? that would mean:
1. they exist when i'm not there
2. they are capable of having feelings other than the ones i assign for them
3. i am not in control of this
4. there is something i can lose and i am not in control of it
you can sit there and tell me repeatedly to my face that you love me and miss me and that i have meaning in your life and i will twist those words or denigrate your capability to make that decision and i will keep doing it until what you say stops making me uncomfortable. value renders me tortured; lack of it renders me non-existent, so i have to pursue it. there is no good outcome.
so how does someone like me write good, relatable characters that touch people's hearts?
he doesn't!
and that is why i will never be a popular writer. because i am a failure as a human being.
the end.