11:30pm June 27th

The self loathing sycophant

I’ve only be happy maybe five or six really times in my live. That unbridled not one ounce of faking it. Just straight glee, joy or any other word on that affect wheel. For the past couple years, I’ve just been saying I’m tired, and it get worse as the days past. Sports, competition and thought don’t count when I think of happiness, since those purists are gross, arduous and riddled with pain. I often think about where I went wrong or where my passion went. One of my worst mistakes was putting myself in the passenger seat. Anther would be dating and relationships, my life was exponentially better when I was selective with my strings. I pain to think of the time and resources misallocated in these less of lesson relationships. Most of the time I can’t bear to look at myself or even receive a complaint. Especially once I understood, that I had a mild case of Asperger’s. Parts of my childhood made since. But instead of truly embracing I started to foolish assimilate in the ways that separated me from the pack in the best ways. As a child it was the eye contact, conversational undertones, liking awkwardness, being insanely decisive, kind, generous, wild curiosity, ability to be seen and not heard. If I really think I was comfortable with my voice. That’s what it boils down to, I’d think I’ve ever been consistently comfortable with my voice. Cue “the mumbling” it’s worse since people love(“schadenfreude - pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.”) so of course the mumbling is magnified. Though boiling down to this mix between self worth and self esteem. I’ve for some odd reason, lack the capacity to like or not want to punish or give my / hold myself to mentally and physically damaging standards that’s mean for you to fuck up (early and often). I don’t know what it is there’s this block, this heavy self loathing that Ebs more than it flows and it’s hard to enjoy things and be around people. Especially if it’s sports, competition or thought. I end up loosing myself on a search that’s built in. I need to jump but I’m still thinking as if I’m viewing my self in the passenger seat and looking to the peanut gallery for answers to my questions.

Version 2

The Self-Loathing Sycophant

Chapter 1: Lost in a Sea of Unhappiness

There have been only a handful of genuine moments of happiness in my life, no more than five or six. Those rare instances where joy overwhelmed me, when every ounce of it was real and unadulterated. But as the years went by, I found myself constantly proclaiming tiredness, a weariness that grew with each passing day. Happiness, as I've come to realize, cannot be found in the realm of sports, competition, or intellectual pursuits. Those endeavors, which some may consider pure and invigorating, are instead repulsive, exhausting, and laden with pain. I often ponder on the paths I have taken, the choices I've made, and where my passion has vanished to. One of my greatest mistakes was allowing myself to become a mere passenger in my own life. Another regret lies in my involvement in dating and relationships. It was during those times that my existence deteriorated significantly, as I foolishly indulged in shallow connections. I shudder to think of the time and resources I wasted on those fruitless affairs.

Chapter 2: The Weight of Self-Doubt

More often than not, I cannot bear to look at myself, let alone entertain any form of criticism. This is especially true since I came to understand that I have a mild case of Asperger's syndrome. Suddenly, fragments of my childhood started to make sense. However, instead of embracing my uniqueness, I chose the path of futile assimilation. I willingly distanced myself from the very qualities that set me apart in the most remarkable ways. As a child, it was my aversion to eye contact, the subtle undertones in conversations, my affinity for awkwardness, my unwavering decisiveness, kindness, generosity, insatiable curiosity, and the ability to be seen yet not heard. Strangely enough, I have never been truly comfortable with my own voice. That's the core of it all, really. I don't believe I have ever consistently embraced the power of my own voice. And thus, the mumbling began—an affliction exacerbated by the pleasure others seem to derive from my misfortune, also known as schadenfreude. It's no wonder that the mumbling becomes amplified. Yet, it all boils down to this tangled web of self-worth and self-esteem.

Chapter 3: The Struggles Within

For some inexplicable reason, I lack the capacity to like myself or to resist punishing and subjecting myself to mentally and physically detrimental standards designed to make me fail, over and over again. I can't quite pinpoint the cause, but there's an impenetrable barrier—an overwhelming self-loathing that ebbs more than it flows. It's a constant battle to find joy in things and be in the company of others, particularly if it involves sports, competition, or deep thinking. I find myself losing my true self in a relentless search that's inherently ingrained within me. I need to break free, to escape from the confines of my own mind. However, I continue to view myself as a mere passenger, looking towards the audience for answers to the questions that plague me.

Chapter 4: The Journey Ahead

As I embark on this turbulent journey of self-discovery, I am acutely aware of the weight I carry—the burden of self-loathing that has become an indomitable force within me. It's a battle between the need for self-acceptance and the fear of vulnerability. The road ahead is daunting, filled with uncertainties and steeped in darkness. But I am resolved to find my voice, to reclaim my sense of self, and to confront the demons that have haunted me for.