TBerg
fallen angel who hasn't earned his wings
- Local time
- Today 5:25 AM
- Joined
- Oct 8, 2013
- Messages
- 2,453
Communicating my inner struggles in detail is difficult for me, as I have a history of avoiding shame, whether deserved or not, as much as possible. That means that what I am trying to do right now goes against every instinct I have ever had.
As I was growing up, my mom and dad would frequently fight. I remember crying myself over what was going on. I remember feeling helpless. I remember feeling like crying was just going nowhere I wanted to go. So I decided to stop. To be more precise, I decided to stop caring. At all. In a cosmological sense. I knew everything was shit and was going to stay that way. I knew I could not trust reality because I did not have a reliable, intimate connection with the world outside. Thus I learned to Think.
As I was growing up in this reality, I only knew I was on the right track when people told me I was. I would find the right thing to do for people to give me confirmation. People told me how smart I was. I knew I would be able to come up with ideas that would radically change the world around me. I had delusions of being something of an awakened one. I just knew my insights would allow me to control the unfriendly world around me. I would use my mind to control my parents, who I did not trust. When I controlled them, I knew I would be able to trust them.
As I was growing up, I viewed the world as an enemy, a demon even, whom my messianic self was destined to defeat with my left-liberal ideals and intellect. My parents sometimes inculcated me in their quasi-hippie ideals and biases, and they would sometimes tell me of why they chose the route of unschooling me instead of sending me to school. They would tell me of their biases regarding other people.
As I was dealing with the world, I expected to control it and be able to do all kinds of things. When I encountered strange things, I would get a bizarre anxiety that made things appear like I wasn't part of this world at all. The anxiety would disrupt all of my sincerity. I learned to fake all kinds of stuff. I always thought I was different from other people, so I dealt with them like some alien people whose culture I must learn, rather than feel in my heart, so to speak. I would keep a lot of myself secret, including the fact that I was a virgin, from others, and I would make stuff up to make them think I had the same psychological projections as them. I thought I would be like them someday. But I was going against my nature. Group activities made me feel fake. I did not actually enjoy them. To be repugnantly honest, I was just hoping for easy sex, but I did not really understand what easy sex was.
Now, because my nature is so tied to profound naivete, I find myself despairing most of the time. I do not feel competent. I do not enjoy much at all. I will post more on my more recent past soon. Have a good night everyone. Who knows. Maybe this will start a trend for more people being less censorious in describing their psychological makeup.
As I was growing up, my mom and dad would frequently fight. I remember crying myself over what was going on. I remember feeling helpless. I remember feeling like crying was just going nowhere I wanted to go. So I decided to stop. To be more precise, I decided to stop caring. At all. In a cosmological sense. I knew everything was shit and was going to stay that way. I knew I could not trust reality because I did not have a reliable, intimate connection with the world outside. Thus I learned to Think.
As I was growing up in this reality, I only knew I was on the right track when people told me I was. I would find the right thing to do for people to give me confirmation. People told me how smart I was. I knew I would be able to come up with ideas that would radically change the world around me. I had delusions of being something of an awakened one. I just knew my insights would allow me to control the unfriendly world around me. I would use my mind to control my parents, who I did not trust. When I controlled them, I knew I would be able to trust them.
As I was growing up, I viewed the world as an enemy, a demon even, whom my messianic self was destined to defeat with my left-liberal ideals and intellect. My parents sometimes inculcated me in their quasi-hippie ideals and biases, and they would sometimes tell me of why they chose the route of unschooling me instead of sending me to school. They would tell me of their biases regarding other people.
As I was dealing with the world, I expected to control it and be able to do all kinds of things. When I encountered strange things, I would get a bizarre anxiety that made things appear like I wasn't part of this world at all. The anxiety would disrupt all of my sincerity. I learned to fake all kinds of stuff. I always thought I was different from other people, so I dealt with them like some alien people whose culture I must learn, rather than feel in my heart, so to speak. I would keep a lot of myself secret, including the fact that I was a virgin, from others, and I would make stuff up to make them think I had the same psychological projections as them. I thought I would be like them someday. But I was going against my nature. Group activities made me feel fake. I did not actually enjoy them. To be repugnantly honest, I was just hoping for easy sex, but I did not really understand what easy sex was.
Now, because my nature is so tied to profound naivete, I find myself despairing most of the time. I do not feel competent. I do not enjoy much at all. I will post more on my more recent past soon. Have a good night everyone. Who knows. Maybe this will start a trend for more people being less censorious in describing their psychological makeup.