On Myself (Oh, Finally; How I Strained)

I’ve been more introspective and emotionally egocentric (and overall self-centered) than usual lately. That’s saying a lot, because I’m usually very self-centered in general. It’s upped the ante these past few days, though. It’s like I notice too many things about my state of mind, and try too hard to record them in my head so as to have a reference in the future as to what really happened at this period in my life (which I am highly likely to black out from my memory in the future). I focus too much on myself to the point that I virtually have no thoughts on anything else, and am unable to organize ideas & concepts on their own if they don’t relate to me directly. I wallow too much in my self-pity, and I relate every kind of hardship anyone goes through to myself, specifically arguing that what I’m experiencing is so much worse than everyone else’s. It’ s like my already high-strung concept of self is trying to vacuum the center of the universe and eat it, so as to redirect the cosmos’ attention to myself. It’s so fucking stupid, because all the while I can see what’s happening, and I can feel it, but I can’t do anything about it. I know I may have clinical depression, but at the same time I think maybe I’m making this up to look cool. I’m trying to get my shit together, really I am: I try to think about things relevant to society, current affairs, or some long-standing existential/philosophical issue I’ve previously put away as a backup food-for-thought for days when I can’t think of anything, but somehow it all circles back to me.. And her. I’m starting to get tired of this woe-is-me shit drama that I can’t seem to help but feel day after day, hour after hour. And, in turn, I can’t write about anything else. I’m back to churning out diary entries that are obvious products of intensive navel-gazing, day in and day out. I’m considering waiting out the empty storm and stopping my writing for a while, and then maybe listen to more music than usual to reawaken my dampening creative spirit. It’s kind of odd that I’m being unproductive as a writer as I suffer in excruciatingly awkward pain. I’ll see if I can last without pouring out insensitive self-centered shit on this blog, but with my Facebook gone for the time being, I don’t think this is going to be easy.

Here’s to trying to save me from my annoying  self.

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