Arrogant Ineptitude
2026-09-03
Fuck self-redemption. I can't do this shit alone.
I hate this world, but I love the people in it enough to stick around. I guess that's why God lets us be so stupid—excuse me, lets me be so stupid—all the damn time. Out and about yesterday, I tried to take it all in; yeah, it was one of those days, man. I saw some beautiful trees and thought to myself that one day, I might not see them anymore—well, at least not in the fashion I see them now. There's still more to do out there in this big place we find ourselves trapped in, but maybe we'll explore all of it; no need to bet on it, though. Concerning myself with the affairs of the heavens has been a dastardly course in quelling my own sense of arrogant ineptitude. "Oh come on, there's gotta be more to it than just this, right?"
I remember the first time I dipped my toes into psychosis. I had just turned 18, and some friends and I did LSD—well, we were pretty sure it was—while my folks were out of town for the weekend. Two tabs taken at night. After getting out of my house and running around my neighborhood like a madman, blacking out, and coming back to, I looked up at the night sky and that bright full moon. I was thoroughly convinced that I had just tapped into the Great Lie of this world, that everything I saw before me was a simulation. It had to be true when I looked up at that moon; there was no way that shit was real. Then I got to college and started reading Hegel. Turns out he had a similar proposition: that the first step to doing any actual philosophy was to accept that this sensory plane is the first and foremost illusion, and that in order to make any progress as a human, we need to break out of the bubble. I still find myself believing that the only real stuff is ideas, or more accurately, they're spirits that come to possess us in brief passing moments for whatever purposes they wish.
Stirner said they were full of shit, Schopenhauer didn't give a shit, and Heidegger said—well, something. Nonetheless, they wisp in and out of our periphery; some play little tricks on us, others want to hurt us, but there's only One that can save us. What, you don't think you need saving? Such silly hubris you have. Are you not worth it? Oh wait, you don't think it's possible? Ah, I see—you're just upset that there's so much horrible stuff in this world that there couldn't possibly be anything good about it, right? Well, I'm right there with ya, champ. Though I can't claim to know why we suffer. So far, my best theory is that it's the path to repentance. We go through some bad shit to make us better, and that's okay. Thankfully for today, I get to take a deep breath and let the goodness sink in. The best part is that I get to put it on the record; isn't that nice?
Recently, I've been dealing with bouts of orthostatic hypotension—or vertigo for the less fancy among you. Every time I get up from a chair, everything gets light. One of these days, I'm probably gonna faint while standing, but probably not today. I have no idea what exactly is causing it—probably my buspirone, since that fucks with blood pressure a bit. Still, better to feel like I'm going to faint a few dozen times a day than to just feel absolutely sick and yucky the entire day; that sounds like a fair trade-off, I suppose. The constant palpitating heart, the tightness in my chest—it really does suck ass. But here I am, feeling a bit more peaceful. Some days I still need to pop half a kpin, but that's fine; at least I'm not addicted yet! Really, there's a constant need to be healed for me. There are few activities that feel genuinely restorative. I wish my sleep was more restorative, but a fractured journey into liminal spaces is fine for now. It's getting better, though; thanks, Mounjaro!
I look at these paragraphs and find a certain sense of emptiness in them. Sure, it feels good to get them down, but I know that it's almost on the verge of self-harm to dedicate myself to writing them every day. Mental masturbation, something like that. "Blegh, think out loud! Think in public because it's so good for you!" Fuck off, man. This isn't good for me; it's just postponing something worse. I'll eat a pound of shit instead of a kilogram, though.
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