Professional Apathete

Related but not a direct sequel to the Schizo Post & Ephemeral Habitat

Life feels dull right now. Games do not fix this dullness, scrolling on substack, ifunny, or “chatting with people” on discord or via text or whatever won’t fix this dullness. Watching anything, from a movie, to youtube, to pornography, would not fix this dullness. I have again sunk into apathy and boredom. I can’t enjoy anything because everything I do feels fake, unreal, unworthy of my time. Of no value or contribution to my life, lacking in any reward at all. Even if it directly stimulated my senses the inner knowledge that it is unreal undermines any satisfaction I might get from it.

I feel nothing.
Except for one thing, the impotent frustration that underpins all of this. I am not the man I want to be. I do not live the life I want to live. I do not do the things I want to do. I don’t even begin to. It’s a prison of my own making and the slowest and most agonizing torture, what I subject myself to, longing without reward, hunger without fulfillment, life without meaning. That Dipshit teenager who went through school caring about nothing but watching TV, playing games, and Jacking off, he doesn’t want any of those things anymore but now they’re all he has. I’m sick of this. I’m dead tired of this. I can scarcely work up the passion or care for any of it anymore.

My self-image is defined by the conflict between my ideal imagined self and my true self. I’m no autogynephiliac but I think this conflict between the real self and the ego is of a similar pathological origin, that being a neurosis of critically low life satisfaction. That feeling life itself is wrong, you should be different, but you cannot figure out why. To be honest it’s a simple identity crisis and a part of the human condition scarcely anyone that’s ever lived hasn’t experienced. Whether or not I can come out of it with an adaptive and not maladaptive solution that ends with me dead or unsuccessful in reproduction? Only time will tell on that one.

Believe me I’ve sought out as much self-help as I could find, I’ve talked to doctors for years (they’re less than useless, will try to drug you before you’re old enough to give informed consent, then indulge your self-pity, bias, and narcissism), I’ve tried meditating(couldn’t keep the habit, also I don’t live next to any nice places like forests where I can actually find ways to enjoy my isolation, or peace and quiet), turning to religion, working out(couldn’t keep the habit), all of these things ended with me back at stage one. Religion being the only one I was actively worse off with until I quit, perhaps more due to my own bad practice more than anything. It at least served its purpose in the chapter of my life which I introduced it. An impliment to exorcise my guilt and shame through self-flaggelation. Go easy on yourself? No, beat yourself up about it every day. Not that those feelings of guilt and shame ever went away though. Even after I quit, what really happened is that I stopped agonizing about it and telling me I’d go to hell for masturbating too much or (every single bad shameful thing i’ve done goes here). I guess in a way I really did learn to forgive myself if I let go of that. Isn’t that Ironic?

But not really, I still live in shame every day. Definitely not as much as when I was trying my best to be more religious (Whipping myself up into fear about damnation and all that), but it’s still there. I don’t want to kill myself, the motivation lies somewhere between cowardice and self preservation, but clearly I’m waiting to find something that makes life worth living.

Sometimes that guilt and shame spikes to such high levels you sit like this for a while thinking what it would feel like to disembowl yourself to save you the embarassing stain your life has been on your entire bloodline.

Still haven’t found it though. I wouldn’t say I’m going down a slippery slope even, my past self as a teenage neurotic (now adult neurotic) did at least manage to pump the breaks on my degenerate impulses, most importantly allowing myself to reel in my at the time burgeoning addiction to pornography. The best I can say is at least I’m not worse. I’m not a eunuch now and I can’t be perfect by my own moral standards, but I made as much progress as to quit the shit that disgusted me(deescalation strategy), so no more watching hardcore sex (for those that need the distinction between hardcore and softcore made clear, it’s that softcore has no sex acts). My sense of disgust tipped me off that I didn’t enjoy it anyway, it’s a good guide in that way. I don’t think I need to explain why porn is bad in any more detail than this: It’s gross; It’s addictive; You actively harm yourself, others in your sex life, and outside of it by being complicit in its production via supporting it through your consumption; And you’re a cuckold if you want to watch the woman you desire get fucked by another man. But that isn’t the subject of today’s stack anyway.

There is no slope here, this is stagnation. Arrested development, in that I have not progressed any further than I have. I could LARP online all I want as a trad christian or pagan or whatever, most of them are retarded and probably in no less tumult than I was when I was their age, to care about those little internet faction wars that don’t matter at all. Nothing about me would change if I played war again with these little boys. But you can’t blame babies for not being wiser and older right? they’ll grow. Me? I’m a 21 year old boy now. I can’t bring myself to say I’m a man, I’m a nobody. Boys must become men, but they don’t get it for free, it’s a title that is earned.

I’m all burnt out from that passion and zeal from my religious days. If you tried lighting a fire under my ass right now by telling me I’d go to hell I’d tell you I hope to see you down there with me. I don’t care. If you try debating christians using excerpts from the bible especially to point out they are hypocrites or sinning right now, (Particularly this terminally online sort, the nice sort only exist in the real world) they’ll just hurl more abuse at you and move on without thinking. There is no debate. There is no point in even trying. I mean, you could probably describe shitlibs the same way, or any other mob for that matter, they are moral and nice when it suits them. In general there’s less and less interesting discussion to be had online, with these stupid faction wars of epic owns and hot takes and what not. it’s another stupid game.

and that brings me to games. I scarcely enjoy games anymore. I play them more out of obligation or to socialize with friends than for the sake of the games themselves at this point. I mean I can still eke out some enjoyment, if it really pulls you in, system shock is a favorite of mine right now. Doom was great. And so on. But as I said earlier, the underlying problems of my critical dissatisfaction with life sap the joy out of everything. I can’t help but feel trapped, that it’s uninteresting, that I’m wasting my time, that I’m wasting my life. Maybe to some extent this is true, I feel I really have wasted my life. My games are my little empire of dirt, my spoils, they are worthless, less than nothing, completely unreal. My reward for the time spent is nothing. I don’t get immersed in games anymore, any amount of silence leads to introspection and then that familiar anxious feeling starts nagging in the back of my mind, sucking me out of my game, back to my dingy room where I’m sitting in my goon throne, staring at my monitor and engaging in a slightly less harmful means than masturbation to pleasure myself, that is still in all the same ways addictive.

I think games and escapist media in general, seeking to become more and more realistic and immersive draws toward the point that more and more people seek the same thing in entertainment today. To replace their real lives with a perfect ideal world. The core problem here is that that is completely impossible. A delusion. Just as trannies will never be women, your simulated computer game, no matter how realistic, is not a reality unto itself. It is only a pale imitation of the real deal and no amount of real-time simualted raytraced shit-dust particles from a wet fart are going to change that. If you desire total realism from a game, exploration, combat, physics simulation, etc. you might find that the real deal is waiting there for you in the real world. Go outside. Do something with your life.
I’m disgusted to think this post might come off as begging for pity or a cry for help…
This is an excuse for my self reflection through text, I’m not your charity case. I read and reread my own posts for myself all the time¹. I just want something real, something tangible, I can hold in my hands. All of this fiction is guilty by design, complicit in delusion. I’m sick of this life. I care about nothing but the fact that living like this makes me angry. Life like this is an injustice unto itself and I can pin blame on no one but myself at this point. Still I’m too polite to hurt anyone or myself over this, not for a lack of wanting to. There is no other word than impotence to describe this. Learned helplessness. Every day is exactly the same, there’s no love or life or anything, just mere existence. The best entertainment can hope to do is distract me, scarcely any of it satisfies. but if I can forget my longing and my hunger even for a moment it does stop feeling that way.

That spark that is my life, that represents my ideal self, is trapped in matter wrongly configured. No amount of delusion could change that until I man up and become who I am supposed to be. An authentic metamorphasis of the body and mind, not any pharmaceutical counterfeit. There is no other cure for neurosis.

1. I am at least 5-10 of the views on my own posts after any given release