#8

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I wonder if I've ever had a single original thought, a thought that no one else has ever had before. I wonder if I can do anything that no one else has done before - and if so, will it be expanded upon, improved, made better, stronger, brighter, more insightful, more important, more universal, more truthful by someone else?

But then, what if those things are true? What if everything I think and say and do has-been/will-be-thought and said and done by others? Shouldn't that make me feel close to humanity at large in some way? Shouldn't that reinforce my belief in the collective subconscious/superconscious that I sometimes believe exists? And yet it doesn't. It depresses me to think that I am totally unoriginal. It makes any creative action I want to take seem futile. Even now, writing this, I'm stealing ideas from Joe Frank and Stephen Chbosky and probably unknowingly stealing from countless other people, whether that's because I'm not familiar with their works yet or because I've forgotten that I am familiar with their works.

Does any of this make any fucking sense?



I think I want to resent people who care about me because sometimes I feel like their love keeps me tethered to life when I'm sick of living. Then again, maybe I'm just projecting my self-hatred on everyone else. I always say that the knowledge that I have friends and family who would be saddened by my death is what keeps me from killing myself, and I honestly believe that's true... but what happens when keeping up those relationships starts to feel more and more like a chore, like something I'm obligated to do? It's not anyone in particular, either. It's the idea of keeping up relationships in the first place. I lied. There is one person who brings that feeling up in me more than others, but I also feel like I'm purposely sabotaging that relationship for some reason. Maybe because that relationship forces self-examination in ways that I'm not comfortable with, ways that break me out of my usual thought ruts and force me to look at myself in a new and honest way that usually ends up with me realizing flaws about my character that I hate in other people. I don't fucking know what I'm talking about anymore. Fuck yeah, amplified self-pity (more stolen ideas).


I need to get the fuck out of my own head before I start questioning existence itself and really freak myself out.