I’m about to get real philosophical here.
When life is kicking you down, it’s natural to become dangerously ruthless due to the feeling that things can’t possibly be worse. You realise how temporary everything is. You realise what’s important, and what’s not, but oftentimes, when you’re in this position, you tend to view everything with a negative light. What’s the point in anything. There’s nothing good about anything so you might as well fuck shit up. Everything is shit, so look on the brightest side you can, which is probably a dark shade of grey. My favourite.
Most importantly, you realise that you don’t have to deal with anything you don’t have to.
I quit my job that I was a part of for four years. The managers were assholes, it’s a shit company and I don’t want to affiliate myself with them anymore. Last week it was my last day, and a shitty one at that. Four years working at that place, 2 years with that particular company and I didn’t even get a goodbye! I don’t mean a goodbye gift or party or whatever. I mean literally the word ‘bye’. The only person who did was my OLD MANAGER who called me twice to wish me the best. It’s always the companies that pretend to care about their employees that are actually the worst. The company is Max Spielmann. Fuck them. I hope you sack of shitnuggets read this somehow. I hate liars.
Speaking of liars, I am also in the process of trying to get a receptionist fired or at the very least disciplined by the NHS. I hate unprofessional people. I hate liars.
“Who does she think she is. Go home and make some bhajia” – Ma, regarding said receptionist.
I’m probably the most apathetic person I know. Apathetic and angry, a contradiction of the best sort and probably someone you don’t want to be around. In the past, people started to try and make friends with me, and it pissed me off. Because it’s become trendy to be alone, to not care, to be ‘different’, by their definition. Whereas once, they’d group those people together and stay away from them. People say they have no friends but they’re acquainted with every Tom, Dick and Harry. Most people want to make friends with you just to infiltrate and find out more about you. That’s literally it.
People think that privileged people can’t be miserable, and I wish these deluded people will get their head out of their ass and realise that everybody is subject to pain. You can be a billionaire who gets everything at the click of their fingers and still feel emptiness that eats away at you. You don’t have to be poor and starving. Perhaps the billionaire is more susceptible to misery because they know they have ‘no right’ to be unhappy, yet they still are.
The only time I’m getting to enjoy my favourite season of the year is when I’m walking to and from the car park on the days that I have university. I’m fortunate enough to drive, I’m fortunate enough to attend a university, I’m fortunate enough to have legs that allow me to walk. But still.
Going to university at ungodly hours so I can get work done and avoid people means my sleeping pattern has altered and my appetite has decreased, so on the days that I am off, I’m still waking up at stupidly early hours. Normally, I’d be thrilled. But now, it just means I have more hours in the day to think about how shit the human condition is. I’m fortunate enough to choose to avoid people, to be able to wake up in the morning, I’m fortunate enough to have a [somewhat] working brain and to choose not to eat. But still.
I wake up, I read, I work, I read some more, I work some more, I might write some, I close my laptop, and I go to sleep. I wake up and I repeat. I’m on top of my university work, but this time I have a dissertation to write. I’m doing a dissertation that I don’t give a shit about but also have so much to say about, so I don’t know where to begin. I thought 12,000 words was a lot, but one day I wrote 1000 words in 20 minutes waiting for rush hour to pass after a seminar and now I’m worried I won’t have enough space to say everything I want.
I’m more privileged than many others, but still.
There’s not enough time and there’s also too much time.
Even the voice of my internal monologues has become monotonous.
But it isn’t fun waking up early and still not being able to sleep at night. It’s not fun not being hungry, and it’s not fun to have a filthy car that you can’t be bothered to wash. It’s not fun to work until the sun has long gone, it isn’t fun having no interest in TV. It isn’t fun when you’re asked for a response and your mouth is trying to form words that your brain hasn’t even created yet and you’re ripping your hair out trying to speak because in that time you’re struggling, people think you just don’t care enough to say anything but you physically
fucking can’t. It’s not fun that people only see from their own perspective. It’s not fun when your short term memory is practically broken and you can’t remember something that was said 15 minutes ago because there’s fog blanketing everything in that thick skull of yours. It isn’t fun when people think you’re just being stubborn and terrible. I am a terrible person. How can you think of a better future when you don’t even know where the present is? It isn’t fun when the only time you can be happy is when you’re falling asleep to a vision of a different version of your life; it isn’t fun wondering why terrible people are so happy with their lives, in turn turning you into a terrible person. It’s not fun to wait until this will all stop, not knowing if it ever will.
Everybody’s in shit, and maybe that’s what makes me feel so bitter towards this world. I know that everybody is in shit, I know people are pretending to be okay, I know a lot of people are so blinded by their own struggles that everybody else’s seems irrelevant to them. I also know some people aren’t in shit and are smug about it. I don’t care about anybody but if I could help everybody I would.
Empathy is my tragic flaw. Just let me be a shit person and piss off