I don’t mind a 9 to 5 job if it pays me enough to have a good life from 5 to 9.
I thought of the above when I was walking home just now. Although I know it is peppered with assumptions and false dilemmas etc., I’m still going along with it. For many reasons which will take too long to explain.
But one of the main things is that I’ve discovered that no matter what I study, I’ll hate it. And no matter what position I am given in a club or whatever, no matter how much I like it in the beginning, I’ll hate it. So why not get something that pays me for it? The very existence of ‘society’ in anything I’ll be doing just ruins the entire thing. I’ll always like or prefer what I’m not doing. And that which I am not doing will not turn out to be something which I’ll permanently prefer. It will only sparkle until I get used to it. And I’ll hate it.
The same with people, I think. I’m someone who knows too much about people to like them (most of them). And because of my recent backbone growth spurt, I’ve been doing not-very-nice things to people, seemingly carelessly. Not at all. All my actions are to quite a measurable extent, pre-mediated. I’m never careless about my actions— if I am, I’ll clarify for sure. I’m never insensitive. If I seem to be, I’m deliberately insensitive. If I invoke hate, it is deliberate. It is of my own choosing. I’ve decided to be myself and attract the right company. But of course, right now, it’s pretty much impossible to change. For instance, is there any new … right company? It’s another time for a paradigm shift of some sort. The other time, the start of last year, it managed to happened because I was in a new environment where I knew no one.
I will also not be upset at all with a ‘normal’ job or a life destined for normalcy of some sort. It’s extraordinary, in fact— for me to come to such a conclusion. This is extraordinary enough. I think I’ve come to this because I hate society (notice how I didn’t say ‘world’). And I’m living, apart from other similarly sad reasons— to drain society dry. I’m going to mess around with it and finally, after 17 f-ing years, I’m finally able to let out my sad inner sorrows which I’ve kept in a jar behind a glass. That lethal pressure accumulating in it got me a host of mental illnesses— the relevant one here is schizoid and perhaps, depression. For the first time, it occurred to me to let it out instead of keeping the shit in and analysing and re-analysing everything and swallow them back in again.
I’m not going to be considerate, not going to be responsible if no one does the same— or that the only people who do it are doomed to lead sad lives. It’s already an achievement for me to be still sitting here and not have killed myself. F-ing annoying. It’s really time for revenge.