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I had 14K journals to clear.
General | Posted 8 years agoSo, for reasons I can't get into, i'm stripping this account of it's me-ness for a thing that might be a thing. And if that thing is a thing, this'll be my rogue commission account. It's all very detailed but holy shit HI, how are you guys? Good? My last journal was from 4 years ago.
So don't mind me while I dust off this old ass account.
So don't mind me while I dust off this old ass account.
The Dark
General | Posted 15 years agoFirst off, auction!: http://www.furbuy.com/auctions/1021880.html? aucctionnnnn
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Spent the day thinking. Also spent the day curled in a ball waiting for ibuprofin to kick in, but generally, spent the day in a ball, thinking. Mostly how I saw the world as a kid; I used to have these over-idealized visions back years ago how things would be in the future. How i'd grow. How i'd be as an adult. What i'd do. How that same world I saw then would be.... i dunno, better, more my own as someone who could fully function within it. I don't know what i was expecting, really. I didn't know what i'd see, but it was going to be...different. And I gotta say now, i'm pretty disappointed.
The world isn't different, it isn't new. For some reason I equated myself then with myself now as two different people. How future me would be more adapted, more, lol, normal, i guess. And the growth toward social normalcy, besides getting inducted into this furry cult, has been progressive in small ways, but issues still arise. I shake when I talk to someone I don't know. I have a hard time looking people in the eyes. Gabba gabba gabba, more trust issues. This isn't a pity journal, the pity train has not boarded. I have issues. Everyone has issues. This is not a new statement.
But it's almost like i'm let down. That future me is still so sickeningly young me. That the steps i've taken to change that have only helped in frighteningly small ways, that there ARE no steps to take to get any farther then the same mental intrepidation I've faced already. And it's like "Dude, what the shit?" You mean it STAYS like this?
I don't know what I was expecting. I don't know what big, bright shiny new changes would be around that this world would be so much better. I certainly don't wear as many business suits as 13 year old me thought, but best I can explain, it's like standing in about 4 inches of molasses. The effort of moving your feet is difficult, but you can take steps. The depth never goes any deeper, it's certainly not like suffocating, the surface underneath the molasses is walkable. In this sugary diabetic nightmare, you want to be something. That's life. You have a goal , and the steps towards that goal are slow, but walkable. You take a step. You take another. The effort is difficult, the strain and pull in just making that a reality takes a toll. It's difficult. And when you finally bring your head up proudly to show the world the changes you've made, you're still standing exactly where you were; and your entire field of vision is without a single landmark and it's all covered in about 4 inches of molasses.
That's what this feels like. That's exactly how I feel at this moment.
It's not a futility of life argument. Just because in your eyes it doesn't seem like you've gotten anywhere, doesn't mean you haven't moved. We all stutter in place, i mean, every single fricking last one of us is. But maybe it becomes a displacement of what we expect, what stupid aspirations we assume will come our way. Maybe it doesn't matter that we're stomping our feet in place, but the fact that we even try to move becomes that small victory, i'm not sure.
I've been this person all my life. Don't get cute with me on a "well duh" statement, but internally, I am the same...thing i was when I was 3, when I was 10, when I was 16 and what I am now. Same thoughts. Same conscious, same voice, eternally the same soul. If I live to be an old hag, I no longer doubt I'll be any different. I guess the regular, 70's esque advice would be to keep on trucking. Keep moving, even if we never stomp anywhere then were we are right now. It seems like as long as we keep that idea of a higher ground, of a goal in life, then we're not pissing it away. So maybe that's what this whole thing is all about.
~
Spent the day thinking. Also spent the day curled in a ball waiting for ibuprofin to kick in, but generally, spent the day in a ball, thinking. Mostly how I saw the world as a kid; I used to have these over-idealized visions back years ago how things would be in the future. How i'd grow. How i'd be as an adult. What i'd do. How that same world I saw then would be.... i dunno, better, more my own as someone who could fully function within it. I don't know what i was expecting, really. I didn't know what i'd see, but it was going to be...different. And I gotta say now, i'm pretty disappointed.
The world isn't different, it isn't new. For some reason I equated myself then with myself now as two different people. How future me would be more adapted, more, lol, normal, i guess. And the growth toward social normalcy, besides getting inducted into this furry cult, has been progressive in small ways, but issues still arise. I shake when I talk to someone I don't know. I have a hard time looking people in the eyes. Gabba gabba gabba, more trust issues. This isn't a pity journal, the pity train has not boarded. I have issues. Everyone has issues. This is not a new statement.
But it's almost like i'm let down. That future me is still so sickeningly young me. That the steps i've taken to change that have only helped in frighteningly small ways, that there ARE no steps to take to get any farther then the same mental intrepidation I've faced already. And it's like "Dude, what the shit?" You mean it STAYS like this?
I don't know what I was expecting. I don't know what big, bright shiny new changes would be around that this world would be so much better. I certainly don't wear as many business suits as 13 year old me thought, but best I can explain, it's like standing in about 4 inches of molasses. The effort of moving your feet is difficult, but you can take steps. The depth never goes any deeper, it's certainly not like suffocating, the surface underneath the molasses is walkable. In this sugary diabetic nightmare, you want to be something. That's life. You have a goal , and the steps towards that goal are slow, but walkable. You take a step. You take another. The effort is difficult, the strain and pull in just making that a reality takes a toll. It's difficult. And when you finally bring your head up proudly to show the world the changes you've made, you're still standing exactly where you were; and your entire field of vision is without a single landmark and it's all covered in about 4 inches of molasses.
That's what this feels like. That's exactly how I feel at this moment.
It's not a futility of life argument. Just because in your eyes it doesn't seem like you've gotten anywhere, doesn't mean you haven't moved. We all stutter in place, i mean, every single fricking last one of us is. But maybe it becomes a displacement of what we expect, what stupid aspirations we assume will come our way. Maybe it doesn't matter that we're stomping our feet in place, but the fact that we even try to move becomes that small victory, i'm not sure.
I've been this person all my life. Don't get cute with me on a "well duh" statement, but internally, I am the same...thing i was when I was 3, when I was 10, when I was 16 and what I am now. Same thoughts. Same conscious, same voice, eternally the same soul. If I live to be an old hag, I no longer doubt I'll be any different. I guess the regular, 70's esque advice would be to keep on trucking. Keep moving, even if we never stomp anywhere then were we are right now. It seems like as long as we keep that idea of a higher ground, of a goal in life, then we're not pissing it away. So maybe that's what this whole thing is all about.
