Poll of the Day > What's the point of anything?

(+) Yeah! (+)

Sometimes, I feel like my entire life is a giant hamster wheel in the purely figurative sense of the word. I go to work to pay rent. I rest and sleep to work. Lately, I feel like I've been caught in some giant, meaningless cycle of this. And it never really ends. I'm not really sure if there is a point in my life.

All my life, I had dreamt that I would be able to move away from my abusive family. Sometimes, I had never really thought I would have a future. Therefore, I didn't see any point in thinking about having one. Or rather, I had only fixated on my goal of moving away from my family. Now that I have, I don't really know what I should do now. It's just too much for me to deal with at the mo'.

My work is decent and stable, yes. But I find myself feeling like I am shirking my duties as of late. Mind you, this is only me feeling that I am shirking my duties. Right now, there are scarcely any duties for me to shirk. I think the lack of meaningful, challenging tasks plays a large part in my lack of job satisfaction. More often than not, I find myself emotionally cheating on my work by fantasizing rather hopelessly about finding better work. I worry sometimes that my boss shall have me fired for my recent listlessness, the fact that my mind seems to be elsewhere these days, and my overall disloyalty, even in spite of the technical knowledge that I figuratively bring to the table.

Speaking of my mind being elsewhere, I've been reading articles on schizoid personality disorder as of late, and I cannot help but resonate with some of the symptoms. I am generally reserved, and I show little to no emotion. Mind you, I do a very, very good job of trying not to show my figurative true colors to anyone, so the latter symptom may not even apply. As I've said earlier, I find my mind often being focussed elsewhere --- but as I've said, this is only because of how dull my life has become. So I may not have as many symptoms as I may have thought. In any case, I've read up on the quality of life for patients who suffer from this; the notion that a genetic predisposition determines how successful someone's life is is one that scares me.

But I can say that my life is starting to turn a figurative corner out of the rather gloom street that it's trundled along in the past month or so. In less than six days, I will be moving to an apartment of my own. It is a dream that I have had for many a year. It feels odd that I am fulfilling it only to escape my landlord. Sometimes, I feel that I don't usually get what I want from life, which is a notion that may have influenced my life in that it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy without my having become aware of it.

I wasn't raised to believe that I would ever get anything I ever wanted from life. I was raised in an environment that taught me that I wouldn't really amount to anything more than trash that has taken human form. As a result, I worry that others will think that I am basically that. No one in my family really taught me anything; they thought me incapable of learning anything. They were fans of telling me to do things incorrectly, and laugh at me for doing as they said, for being the bumbling fool they had always thought I was. They were also fans of giving me concussions, sometimes in my sleep, because they felt that I was challenging their ideas of what I was. Sometimes, my cousins would conspire to mutilate me because they were convinced that I would become a rapist upon reaching puberty. Neither of my parents knew enough English to listen to me properly. Even if they did, they didn't want to acknowledge the possibility that I cried for reasons that amounted to anything more than the fact that I was hungry. No one in the family would listen to the sort of abuse I went through at school; the abuse they put me through at home was much worse, anyway. Any therapist I ever visited would be brainwashed by them, be told to not believe any lie I supposedly told about myself. Then I'd go through a bunch of sessions of the therapist talking about stuff that didn't really matter to me; they wouldn't listen to a thing I said after my family got through to them. Sometimes, the therapists I'd visit go on about how I was a narcissist, how I was a rapist, and a whole host of other nonsense that my family made up about me. It got tiring, and very lonely, being ignored and misinterpreted by not only my family, but by outsiders also.

Now, I don't have anyone to listen to my problems. Now, I'm just scribbling my thoughts into writings that no one will ever see.

Sometimes, I muse at work about the idea of exploring the sciences I did, like I did before. But the fact that I am almost always in a dissociative state prevents me from taking in any text I may consume as part of the schooling process. I feel like I'm always tired. I feel like I'm always just reliving the traumas from long ago. I feel like I can barely think clearly anymore. And then, I just give up, knowing that I wouldn't even have any energy for studying, anyway, let alone a clear idea of what would become of that knowledge once I inevitably lost my use for it. Rather, since I don't have any use for it, there would be no real point in retaining it, just like the rest of the knowledge I had sometimes pretended to imbibe, and repeat over four years ago. But then I wonder why this is even an issue, since I had been musing about merely studying, but not using, the sciences. And then that's when I realize how ingenuine my musings are. I never found school to be productive for me, specifically; I never felt comfortable being around people who were smarter than me. I abhor listening to people talk. Then there's that issue of people inexplicably coming to the conclusion that I'm stupid, then sabotaging my education by convincing teachers to throw away my work, or else hinder my pretenses at getting an education in other ways.

Anyway, what's the point of anything?

I must have these answers.

Procreation. Anything else is an illusion.

On Earth, anyway

your therapist called you a rapist?

DirtBasedSoap posted...

therapist

Some of them did; they mostly insinuated it.

Only God can tell you that. And it changes over time.

I think having your own place will do you good. You get a new level of peace when you can come home without having someone else there to give you a headache. Take up a new hobby to go with it. It sounds like you could use something to keep your hands and mind busy. Doesn't really matter what. I'd keep an eye on how much gaming you do too, especially if you're living alone since there's nobody there to interrupt you. If you're finding yourself in one of those repetitive cycles, eight hours on a game tends to make it even worse. Easy way to forget you even had a weekend.

just think of all the awesome shit there is to eat

There isn't one. Life is pointless, existing solely to make more life which in turn exists solely to do the same thing ad infinitum. So long as you aren't hurting anyone, just do whatever you need to do to enjoy it.

EclairReturns posted...

It feels odd that I am fulfilling it only to escape my landlord.

That's not that odd. Even putting aside for a moment the fact that your particular landlord is *really weird* and grossly inappropriate, people pretty routinely move from apartments that would otherwise be good places to live because of a bad landlord. Some landlords are just miserable to deal with.

Shrek posted...

just think of all the awesome shit there is to eat

This. And places to go.

To me, life is about human connections and relationships, creating new things for people to enjoy, and leaving the world a better place. That's all I can do and I don't expect much more.

Do you have many friends?