Self inflicted loserism

Over the past few months I have started to reconstruct a shell I thought I had once shattered with the force of 1000 units of willpower. It’s quite easy to feel pointless and irrelevant to the larger world when you’re in a bubble. You reason it down time and time again “there is no larger world that has no meaning everyone is working in their own frame and you are sitting in yours”. But I can’t help watching jealously, things I have no right to be being filled by people who I have no right to know. At the end of the day I will lie back down in the bed I was in the day before and simply sit there.

My writing skills were never great but I can really feel how far they have degraded with time. Nowadays I spend most of my time watching dumb TV shows and studying chemysteries. Where does that leave me with purpose. I see the people deep down I wish I was, the way the world interacts with me verse the way it does with others, and I know at the end of the day I am meant to watch from a afar. Theres no need for something offputting, unsettling is not appealing to the broader eye. I feel myself sinking into a forgetfulness I will never, not ever, never, escape. And the worst part is at the end of the day, all I can think about is me, an ourobourical dilemma of self induced hatredification.

What can you do but try and fix it again. I find it hard to be in public, the vision of the world is harsh and unnoticing. People say its all in my head, but I know deep down I have relocated to loser lane. Maybe its fixable, I hope to try in the new year, but for now, I am an irrefutably lame, uninteresting, borderline bum entity of the western hemisphere, with not really anything of substance worth listing otherwise.

Goodbye for the day substack readers,

I am sure this is normal and healthy.

Archwafer,.,