30-05-2025

Just another project I start that I flush down the toilet. How many times will I keep doing this? I started reading books, I got obsessed for what? 1 month, 2 months?

I started tons of courses just to wipe them out of my brain as soon as the dopamine rush of learning something fades. Learning, such a funny word I use way too much, have I really learned anything? I started coding, for the 11th time, have I really learned how to do anything? I wanted to improve my writing, and as you can read, I have not, I have downproved if anything. I don't know why I keep practicing this habit, honestly. As much as I tell myself I won't ever fall down this rabbit hole, I find my soul in great despair whenever I lower my guard.

And frankly, I don't think I will do anything soon to try and improve it. The impulses are too painful to fight back. I just have to give in to them, maybe that way I'll hit rock bottom. I like to see it in a metaphorical way. One way in which my impulses, which are portrayed as beings in my brain, are using my body as a mean to get to "rock bottom". Whenever I wander far from that path or climb back, they naturally get mad. I can't blame them, I would be mad as well if someone that —assuming by his acts— has acceded to give us a ride, suddenly starts to go down the wrong path, or changes his mind. This madness of course, presents herself as a discomfort for me; itchy scalp, dry eyes, weird decissions.

I can't do anything but give in. Yes I will risk my social integrity and my grades and probably my future, but who cares, once I reach R. Bottom, it will be uphill! I am just afraid of one thing, just one thing. What if I like it there? Just as I love the first three days of discovering a new hobby, meeting someone new, concerning decisions. What if the impulses turn out to be nice, and I become one of them, and I indulge in their habits, and I feel joy because of that. What if if if I need more and more. The free samples already warned me about this, you will love it, they said.

I got to get those ideas out of my head. My friends don't like that place, and they don't like the people that have gotten there. Me myself knows people that have reached such place, in different means of transport, of course. They can only seem to talk to people who are already there, and only accede to talk to me if I prop myself as one of them. Few topics are to be talked, and I know those topics are themselves propaganda for me to love the place. It gives the impulses further access in the depths of my brain. They mess with some of my thoughts and emotions. Their favourite is, of course, nostalgia. They will tingle my cerebrum in such a way I liberate all the nostalgia I had left. The problem is that they direct it to people. Filthy, horrible people. They do this by taking the one that's supposed to make me want to be more crative, by giving me thoughts of my old self. They know the latter will make me climb.

So as you can see I'm in a Limbo between R. and r. and I don't know what to do. They hurt, badly, but I also want to be with the sane. This is not a cry for help. This is a cry.