Ruminations Galore
So any failed attempt to have affection reciprocated throws me into a seemingly irreversible fit of self-consciousness, embarrassment and inaction. It's the extremes again. If this person does not desire me, then I cannot be with anyone I will ever desire.
The fault is mine, for not being enough, whether physically or emotionally or intellectually. I cannot be relinquished from this stupid state until I get even the faintest look of affection or even interest from someone else. It's usually when I'm told I'm at least a bit attractive that I muster up enough self-confidence to be flirtatious again. It's a rare occasion though.
So in college I've picked up smoking and cynicism. The cynicism I think comes from the overlap with philosophy some of my courses just happen to have. Mostly existential concepts rack my brain when I'm immobile and contemplative. Leads me often to wonder: "Why bother with this shithole of a life?."
But then I remember film; my visual-auditory therapy. An artistic quest for self-actualization. I guess I believe that I can't call it quits yet, because there may be something I'm missing. The camera lens allows me to change the way I see and perceive, and record it so that I can show it to others. Maybe there's something more. Film is my only escape. That and sex, and that just hasn't been happening recently. Probably why I picked up smoking. Drugs and Alcohol: no comment.
Everyone wants celebrity. Everyone wants prosperity (a relative notion). Everyone wants love. I think fame gives one the feeling of permanence. To exist for many is not merely enough. To have others acknowledge you assures immortality. I think whether or not we admit it, immortality is an ultimate ideal, the greatest desire in a sense.
These are just ruminations. A steady stream of consciousness. The change of environment, diet and habit have turned me into a pensive pessimist. All I can think about is what upsets, deceives, and negatively overwhelms me. It's actually starting to get old. I kind of need a break, but I'm not sure how to take it.
More later. Don't know if this is therapeutic, but it's somewhat addictive.
The fault is mine, for not being enough, whether physically or emotionally or intellectually. I cannot be relinquished from this stupid state until I get even the faintest look of affection or even interest from someone else. It's usually when I'm told I'm at least a bit attractive that I muster up enough self-confidence to be flirtatious again. It's a rare occasion though.
So in college I've picked up smoking and cynicism. The cynicism I think comes from the overlap with philosophy some of my courses just happen to have. Mostly existential concepts rack my brain when I'm immobile and contemplative. Leads me often to wonder: "Why bother with this shithole of a life?."
But then I remember film; my visual-auditory therapy. An artistic quest for self-actualization. I guess I believe that I can't call it quits yet, because there may be something I'm missing. The camera lens allows me to change the way I see and perceive, and record it so that I can show it to others. Maybe there's something more. Film is my only escape. That and sex, and that just hasn't been happening recently. Probably why I picked up smoking. Drugs and Alcohol: no comment.
Everyone wants celebrity. Everyone wants prosperity (a relative notion). Everyone wants love. I think fame gives one the feeling of permanence. To exist for many is not merely enough. To have others acknowledge you assures immortality. I think whether or not we admit it, immortality is an ultimate ideal, the greatest desire in a sense.
These are just ruminations. A steady stream of consciousness. The change of environment, diet and habit have turned me into a pensive pessimist. All I can think about is what upsets, deceives, and negatively overwhelms me. It's actually starting to get old. I kind of need a break, but I'm not sure how to take it.
More later. Don't know if this is therapeutic, but it's somewhat addictive.