eat me henger

competing with the wrong people warped my identity.  growing up, the only form of competition i knew were games and sport. contained environments where everyone played by clear cut rules within a set period of time. it was easy for my immature brain to comprehend. yeah sure, i recognized back then, that kids were competing in ways much bigger than recreational activities - like being the top in class or student government leaders. those fields were too mature for me. i didn't care about getting the most right answers in an exam, and i sure as hell never wanted to go on-stage to convince the entire student body that i deserve their trust. hell, even i didn't trust myself. i was simply excited for class to end so i can get to the pitch, court or in front of my computer. but then, as i settled into adulthood, i found that my strong interests were merely pastimes, and that the vast majority of a working man's time is spent on the mature things i had shied away from in my youth.

i respawn everyday.  at some point in my life, i lost the ability to wake up with fresh starts. it used to be that i would have tension with other people, and then after sleeping it off, i'll be at peace with them. i was resented for not sharing the same negativity. i had thought back then that it was a problematic lack of empathy. so i tried working to be more mindful of unresolved issues. perhaps it started when i had to deal with terrible narcissism. they're never wrong, and therefore it's my problem. being desperate for their approval, i integrated their indoctrination. beautiful narcissists are a toxic combination. i'm glad to have been physically detached from that predicament. but psychologically, i've been dwelling in it for years. everyday i wake up with yesterday's burden. it's like i never left the quagmire of cancerous conduct. it metastasised into unrelated aspects of life. diminished my relationship with family, co-workers and acquaintances. i

i somewhat understand why artists have peaks, and then we don't hear from them for some time. nothing in mass media about their new single or album. no new leading roles, mostly obscure projects or relegated to the supporting cast. i feel as though our best work are such a rarity, and consistency ideally yields above-average output. perhaps relative to our best, even great works become comparably mediocre, especially if our sample size is limited to our own body of work. the ethereal concept of "creative juice" feels real. or at least easy to blame when i can't put out decent art. i call it art, but it feels pretentious to consider myself an "artist", a writer, perhaps is more appropriate. it's just easier to type the three letters that comprise the word "art" - and there goes my autism deciding to over explain an unnecessary detail. perhaps, the broader our knowledge, the deeper our wisdom, the more we are capable of overthinking things. it se

i'm forcing myself to write. because maybe this will squeeze something out of me that will start a wave of momentum to continue writing, or at least stay consistent. the problem is i largely depend on motivation to do things. unfortunately, it doesn't sustain a salaryman. the good thing about the incentive structure in my workplace is that whether i work hard or i barely work at all, my remuneration remains the same. so i can practically phone it in for an entire year and i'd still get the same salary had i been pushing myself to the limit. that's why management plays such an important role to keep me balanced. i don't have a concept of balance. i'm either extremely productive or i'm barely in my cubicle. what troubles me is that i struggle with this my entire life. people around me wants me to be normal, just like everyone else. i struggle to do so. it would be nice if i can fit into mainstream society. less friction that way. then i wouldn't have these

for a country with a shit ton population density, it's difficult to get a decent mentor. it only sounds nice when median age is in the mid-20s, but that also means there's an abundance of misguided youth fumbling their way through young adulthood. it's not like we developed a strong culture in the past where our elders were well-learned or at least had proper foundational knowledge. it seems like all they had was authority over folk wisdom, and when the youth were enlightened with the influx of internet information, every age group were just as misguided as everyone else. i talk about this because i regret the process of awkwardly growing into the kept together mess i am right now. a lot of my life lessons could've been gained with less devastating consequences. ideally as we age, our existential hazards get progressively threatening and we have relatively wisened adults - be it our parents, teachers or community leaders - to foster a conducive environment where we are

i've normalized, but i stopped being a person in 2019 going out these days feel like i time travelled. like i barely recognize the world. there are way more younger people, more supple skins contrasting my subtly sagging cheeks. perhaps the lockdown made a difference. everyone's lives moved forward and my lack of social media monitoring made me insulated from the pace of development. but it's also perhaps what happened to me in 2019 i've since returned to normalcy. an equilibrium barely discernible from what could have been a projected trajectory. but i've never been the same since. i carry a quiet burden that i've kept aside. no point belaboring the drama, it's exasperating. i guess it's anti-climatic. the resolution isn't as bombastic as the climax. it doesn't fit the shape of a story. granted, it might not be fully resolved and i'm in a middling period of the narrative prior to the actual denouement.   maybe that's the key to feeling l