Something else#
I have a problem. It’s not even that bad. It’s my fault though and I’m trying to do something about it.
I’ve been stuck in a rut for years. At the root of the problem is my attention and my internal dialogue. It’s terrible. If only I picked one thing to chip away at, a little bit each day for that time. I could have made something. I could have done something. I like creating things. I picked, be depressed. Get really good at shitting on yourself. I’m a black belt at suicidal ideation and bad self talk. A lot of it is over not being able to convince my mom she’s talking to/engaged to, Elon Musk. She’s lost her mind, lost all her money and is actively scamming and getting scammed, and kind of trying to kill herself. It is very difficult to deal with. But, I choose to use this as a crutch. As a reason why I can’t focus on my life and move things forward. I want her to be safe. I want her to be ok. But she doesn’t want that. She wants to prove that she’s not crazy, by putting herself into worse and worse positions. I wish she was correct. I wish Elon would come and take care of her. But its just some asshole Nigerian or Indian or Indonesian guy in some basement. I want those people to pay. So I study some cybersecurity stuff. And then I feel like its all pointless. I stop taking care of myself. Stop eating. Stop showering. Stop sleeping. Until I find enough of a spark to exercise and eat and take care of myself. To just go through it all over again. Sometimes I wish I was dead so I could stop this circus. Sometimes I wish she was dead so she could stop this circus. Her father was full crazy for the last 20 years of his life. So she will probably stick around for a long time. And I don’t really want her to die, I just imagine the confusion and frustration she has with finding out every Elon she talks to is a scammer, and then just does it all again. Its like she’s a gambling addict but its mixed in with romance and a whole bunch of emotions she’s unwilling to admit to. She’s the kind of person that doesn’t believe in therapy. She’s proud she’s old and looks at it as some kind of trophy. She’s won where other haven’t and that alone proves that she’s smarter and better than everyone else. When one of her biggest insecurities is that she isn’t smart because she never finished high school.
It’s a big mess. So sometimes I write to get the thoughts out of my head. Because its a little better when I put them on a page instead of having them bounce around inside.
Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate it.