And to get it first out of the way:
That's for that. XD
Now for the main reason I'm posting.
And that reason is: I'm not feeling well. Emphasized by the fact just typing this out almost made me cry; sure, part of it is just a natural spike in hormones. The other part is that I am way more stressed, way more anxious, than I've realized.
It all starts with memory lapses; I've been forgetting much more than I used to. That has been going on for a few months now. Then comes a feeling of pressure; as though the air itself, so insidiously you don't even notice at first, is compressing your mind until it short-circuits.
And then comes the fear. Fear of everything; fear of failure, fear of being a failure, fear of losing (financial) stability, and it evolves to encompass even more: fear of never being able to write again, fear of failing at that Patreon, fear of being a slave to society until I die, fear of dying - fear of just not seeing the point of living anymore. I know I've said before - I think it was last year - that I wouldn't fear anymore. Goes to show how difficult a promise that can be to uphold.
It could just be that my lack of writing for about a month has a negative effect on me - after all, that is my passion and joy. What's left when you neglect your passion and joy? Well, see up there.
On that note, I did write a paragraph this morning (and won't have much time for more), and though it was hard at first, eventually it started to flow better.
I could literally feel that pressure I mentioned leave my brain. Like lifting a veil. Like prodding open an airtight bag. All of a sudden, I felt like I could breathe.
So what is causing me anxiety? Outside life. The societal need to have an outside job. The self-realization this is something I will never have again - certainly not as I used to, as I refuse to sacrifice my health and my life again for... for what? All I've gained is a salary. Granted, that salary has paid for many necesities. But this is simply not enough for me. Hence the anxieties.
One could say: well, suck it up, we all have to work for a living. True. Or one could say: don't you think there's worse in the world? Also true. Just turn on the news and discover people have been attacked with biochemical weapons. Next step would be nuclear warfare. You never know.
I think about all these things. I have anxieties from sometimes not being able to stop thinking about them; or about the fact I'm such a weak, pathetic human being compared to the thousands and more who just go to work, earn a living for their families, and shut up about it.
And then I get depressed over the fact so many people, like this, are forced to live a life they didn't really choose; that they, perhaps, don't really care about.
I daresay sensitive people really aren't made for the world we live in.
When you're so dissynchronized with the rest of your society, you start to wonder: why. Why am I here. What am I here to do. Why should I live. Or, better yet: what am I supposed to force to change?
It's the flipside to those anxieties (and, I must say, writing about this is actually alleviating my anxiety... Don't joke when I say I'm nothing if not a writer << (there's the emoticon! :D)). You can keep thinking you don't fit in; or, you can start thinking you're not meant to fit in but to change. Change what, I don't know, but change something.
And work with what you have.
And working with what I have really is the reason I started that Patreon: I have talents. They're useless to me here. I have passions. They're also useless to me here. And I have issues that make people roll their eyes (I mentioned my chronophobia to the new work counselor I have: she laughed. Not to laugh, she said, but because it's something you don't hear. It was upsetting nonetheless; moreso when I discovered yesterday that she sent me a mail for a job that's over an hour away if I'm lucky). I feel truly misunderstood - or, rather, I feel like people don't listen to one another, not really, and just hear what they can absorb. I am guilty of it too, at times... I know I'm that way when I don't feel well. Does that mean the figurative whole world doesn't feel well?
Well, I am tired of feeling unwell. The Patreon will have to be a success because, frankly, I can't - and won't - keep dealing with this anxiety; or with being made to feel like I don't matter because I don't fit in. There's a very egotistical and paradoxally altruistic goal attached to it: one day, I want to be able to say I succeeded despite the odds, so I can give hope to others. I want to be able to tell people: sure, I had a rough time starting it up, but eventually it was all worth while. You can do it too.
Right now, all I want is to fall off the face of society and build a different kind of society. I want to have the opportunity to help others, truly help them, and not be forced into 'helping myself' by seeking out jobs I have no motivation for. I don't want to feel like I'd rather die instead of being forced to kill myself slowly on a workfloor. That's truly how my last outside job felt. I still have physical scars from it.
Well, I guess I ranted long enough. I actually have to be somewhere pretty soon, so I'd best get on with the having lunch and suches.
Only positive point: this has done me TONS OF GOOD. Hurray for writing! And being brutally open. XD
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