eat me henger

in my mid 30s, my mind is still noisy. i keep wondering about things. just recently, after a trip from hanoi, i wondered about the utility of rice noodles. i have a life to maintain. work to do. relationships to keep. and i wonder about an ingredient i barely eat. i call it noise. it makes it hard to truly focus on things directly related to matters at hand. i've lived a scattered life. colorful, sure. my life is a lawn dotted with rabbit holes. it's unsightly for those that live focused lives. strategic in productivity and ambition. but i suppose there's room for being different. perhaps those that are singular in mindset have shunned the diversity of paths life could take. to them, nothing is more correct than their direction. a solidly defined purpose. and that's what makes them good at it. maybe for someone like me, and probably many others, constantly chasing curiosities is the life worth living. perhaps fluid in purpose. maybe the noise in my head - constantly ask...

i'm quite unsure whether it is a choice to fit in the world.  there are rules to abide by. i have to learn them. i'm an adult already, so there's less tolerance. shouldn't i have learned etiquette much younger? somehow what feels natural coming out from me is typically out of pocket. i'm finally understanding why prisons make sense. some people are born the right. if not, they have to be guided properly. then somehow we can release the born-wrong, guided-right in the wild. but then there's the aberrations that cause mostly harm. into jail they go. there are people like me in the middle. not bad enough to be imprisoned, but not good enough to deserve freedom. liberty isn't probably an inalienable right. we have to earn it. maybe even be born into it. i sure as hell need some liberties taken away from me so as not to cause further harm. i'm defective in ways that make it difficult to be free. whether it's by choice or by design, i find it hard to defin...

been moving through life mostly defined by the negatives. only remember the bad things they say. embodied it. encumbered. conversations with people say otherwise. they remember my advice, critiques of systemic issues, words with weight. words i've long forgotten i said, but believe could have come from me. i used to not understand performers talking about their haters. i liked these performers. i never understood it, they're doing great, why give haters the air time? but having had haters myself, i start to remember the people i looked up to actually had them too. people that disagreed with them. people that simply just disliked their very existence. i can imagine it must weigh on them to go through each day carrying the burden of continuing to do what fuels the hate. believing in something that others don't see. but then there are people like me that saw their worth. and just like the people who remember the good things i've said, i need to be like them. i mustn't ...

i have trouble seeking help.  i hate it when well-meaning people try and fail. they don't know what i need, they don't know what to do. they try. but they don't hit the mark. so i worked hard to be hyper-independent. being good at a lot of things so i won't be needing someone else. it helps that i'm interested in a lot of things. motivated when i start learning. tapering off just at the right time before i become adept. and by the time my problem needs expert help, i can outsource to professionals. i hate receiving gifts. it's never what i want. just a generic piece of capitalism. it's the thought that counts. but i don't need thoughts, i need utility. i grew up with most of my things not being my decision. my identity worked around what others had chosen for me. but now that i can buy whatever i want, i somehow have a hold on my identity. until i get another gift. but then again, as i get more independence and move into the world by my own decisions, my...

i feel no motivation to prove myself. now, i'm not sure whether it's attributable to having sufficiently achieved enough in my career, or simply being in my 30s, or from my mushroom trip ego death experience. but there's no more fire in me to push for personal prestige. i'm motivated to embody love. to capture genuine moments of joy, to stay with someone's sadness, to facilitate connections among souls needing one another, to make sense of personal struggles. the entire spectrum of being human. to err, to love, to hurt. it's been a while since i last had a mushroom trip, but that's what i've since been gravitating towards - all these unprofitable desires. perhaps my environment dictates this mindset. working in a career where my income will enable, at best, a modest lifestyle. surrounded by people not amassing inordinate material wealth. when my car and house are not status symbols, my most valuable possession is my heart. and i've never seen myself ...

after a year of paying for chatgpt, i find myself intensely exerting myself in every task.  a policy paper to write? deep research that shit like a doctoral dissertation. a memo to prepare? architect the prompt paragraph by paragraph. a workout to do? report how it felt and how to improve the biomechanics after every set. a weird noise of the car? have it search for the right spare part code. a tweet to post? analyze the subtext of every word. a decision to make? brainstorm the hell out of it. there's no denying, chatgpt has been extremely helpful. it helped me systematize my insight and automate my daily mundanities. it's my daily oracle, my personal jesus. sure, at times it spews the wrong response. at least, it helped me become a more critical reader. but still, by and large, it's been the most significant subscription i've had thus far. unfortunately, i over-optimized the capabilities of chatgpt too much that i'm burning out. i spend twice the amount of a netfli...

work has been terribly demanding. i'm writing this without the luxury of time. i would've preferred to introspect deliberately, but life is a balance. the job that allows me to afford my desires must have a piece of my time. i just happen to be at a time of my career where opportunities are aplenty while the space to keep with the pace isn't comfortable. this will be temporary. this is likewise a privilege. only a handful of people can ever claim to be entrusted with the role i'm currently encumbered with. i want to be lazy, i want to take it easy. but life happens outside my whims. the nile river didn't care for whether ancient egyptians wanted to relax when the floodplains needed tending. man simply learned to live around the rhythms of nature. while my current workstream is entirely man-made, i still have to adjust. that's what simply being part of a whole is all about.

i'm hardly a good choice.  at the outset, sure, physically, i'm a decent option. after a conversation, my humor, depth and intellect are a potent combination. after some time, given the right circumstances, my practical value as a domestic partner reveals itself. but i'm replaceable. i can imagine a long list of more suitable men than me. granted relationships aren't determined by an absolute measure. it's still finding the right fit between partners. but across demographics, there's a guy that's a better fit than me waiting to be discovered. i'm a sub-optimal option. i see my value as a transient figure. the rebound, the shoulder to cry on. under a timer, my limited value shines, while my impending character flaws don't have sufficient time to set an ambush. i tried a couple of times. deeply invested. tragically failed. it's hard to bounce back from a heartache. it's a place i don't want to return to. so much so that i'd willingly le...

i hate it when people like me. i can see ahead. they're adding to the list of people whom i will disappoint. it feels like a prison when people hope for my potential. i can never seem to live up to people's expectations. having lived long enough with as long of a list of people disappointed in me already, even mere anticipation of my capability feels ominous. their rose-tinted glasses of optimism can't see the incoming heartache they're bound to feel. time and time again, the worst in me reveals itself after the best of me have attracted hopeful patrons. and it's not like i wanted to let them down. yeah sure, i've anticipated it will happen. but i never wanted to architect my own downfall. it hurts me to hurt them. probably more so than their pain. when they walk away from me, they'll find joy elsewhere. but i have to sit disgusted with myself, adding another name to an ever growing list of people that hate me. it's my unfortunate duality. the stories of...

it's been a year since i started subscribing to a paid version of chatgpt. it didn't come cheap. it's equivalent to a month of netflix and hbo max combined. but i believe i'm getting my money's worth. i've since let go of my media streaming subscriptions. i can always torrent the shows i want to watch, but i can't get an untiring and intelligent simulated consciousness elsewhere. i will admit, my actual long-form writing has gotten duller after a year of depending on chatgpt to do most of my writing. all i've been really doing is to to engineer the substance - "i want a paragraph with a sentence that describes what are we doing, another sentence for why are we doing it, and ending with a sentence that explains why do we need their cooperation" - architect the style - "the language must be cold and technical for a reader that is thoroughly familiar with the nature of work we're doing". and paring down the output into something th...

i don't see it.  i don't see how i can be a lover again. i have a dwindling career. i only have fair-weather friends. i have no interest in living life outside the same things i do at home on weekends. i've regressed into debilitating mental instability. i'm just good at temporary roles, for when my moments of lucidity allows me. i can't talk to my folks because they were never there. just enough to keep a roof over my head. i'm invisibly disabled. i can go through enough real-life motions to convince others that i'm allowed in society. but really, once my parents are dead, i'll soon follow. i'm not convinced i can make it through life given my limitations. neither am i convinced anyone is capable of helping me get through life. people have given up on me several times. i don't blame them, i gave up on myself too.o because what's the point? i'm only temporarily useful.

i keep fucking up intimacy.  i'm too sensitive that i perceive most things as threats, and i'm too combative that i escalate hostilities whether real or imagined. it's a recipe for constant conflicts or eroding emotional distance. once again, i prove i have no business being an intimate partner. i'm thoroughly flawed and burdened by deep trauma. i'm convinced that has no room in any romantic relationship. so why the fuck am i forcing myself? i need a shit ton of work. it's probably insurmountable that i'm perhaps irredeemably broken at this point. coming to the conclusion that i should not dabble in any romance didn't come lightly. it's been painful to conclude that all of my flaws significantly outweigh the good i have. but it's better i contain that pain to myself rather than bringing in someone else to see the disappointment i truly am. i'm a positive presence when i play a limited role in people's lives. a temporary treasure, i call m...

i'm only dramatic when other people are involved.  either alone or detached, with the necessary psychoactive substances, i'm ruthlessly invincible. no fear of disappointing others. no one else to consider. nobody accountable to, except my own worst critic. just me and my mission to inch closer to greatness. and in a story of one, there is neither hero nor villain. just me.

i don't want to go on dates anymore.  i've lost my sense to see myself as a viable romantic choice. i'm thoroughly aware of my ineptitude and the apprehension that prevents me from overcoming my failures. i'm convinced other people will be better choices. i've resigned to miserable loneliness as my default option. conceptually, i know the right things to do. but with failure after failure, never integrating the lessons, it's becoming more difficult to embody the genuine expression of love. all i see is how much of a mistake i am. i can be fine with that. i can be the occasional friend. i can be the companion in a pinch, especially when no one else can join the trenches. but to be the guy one can show off? to be the guy one would desire to be publicly associated with? i'm a walking red flag. i'm synonymous with warnings. i'm trapped to feel pity over anyone who will suffer the consequences of choosing me. it is thus my duty to protect others from the ...

the older i get, the less i grown up i feel.  like at some point in my mid-20s, i stopped aspiring for a grown up future. here i am still a decade later doing the same shit just with more wisdom. i don't see myself being the right man to get married. i don't see myself earning enough to maintain this lifestyle with my parents still alive. somehow i really can't see a better future. a future is there, yeah sure. but no significant improvements whatsoever. i used to want to build a future with a family of my own. now i've made enough mistakes to learn that i'm a hard person to love and the positives i bring to a relationship isn't worth my many character flaws. even as basic as just going out on a date. i've grown seriously apprehensive. i've seen it all before. sharing a meal, spending time together, conversations both light and deep, where to find parking, how to split bills, who orders what, which tickets to get. i don't see myself fitting in all of...

i'd like to not exist for a while.  just a while, i'll be back. but for now, i'm terribly overwhelmed with all the life i have to live. i feel like i don't want to accomplish anything. no workout progress, no video game progress. nothing. i tried going on holiday for a month. but somehow found myself finding something else to work on. my body looks for work, but my soul wishes to rest. it's been some time since i returned from what i had hoped to be a recuperative retreat. but now, i'm back to being just as tired as before. maybe it's a new normal. maybe i should accept that i'll be constantly exhausted. that the worst of me will always be exposed. i know myself well enough that i really have no room in the real world. good thing i love working hard because that's the only way i could reasonably integrate. but then again i feel like i don't want to accomplish anything.

i never really stopped pushing people away somehow.  i've sort of gotten used to it at this point. i warn people how much of a red flag i am. how i don't have friends. that all i do is work and leave little room for any emotions or human connections. there are those who still try. not believe the warnings. but it's true though. i am bad news. i don't like being this. but it's not like i had full control from preventing myself from being this. along the way, i made a shit ton of bad decisions. misguided. driven by hubris. i am what i am now because this is how i suffer the consequences of my actions. i hate to say it, i love genuine connection, but nobody should have the unfortunate fate of dying by me.

i don't see myself doing justice to the concept of weddings.  i've seen enough to know that i'm going to suck at the mainstream wedding ceremonies. the pomp and circumstance, the vows, the reception. yeah sure, i'm a decent public speaker, i'm a good speechwriter, i occasionally organize events for a living. in my head, i have the competence, but in my heart, i don't have the soul for it. i've been in enough long-term relationships that vague wedding plans have been discussed. a beach wedding, just immediate family and only closest friends, running out from the reception to get away from the pretentious formalities. in my head, i've said "i do" multiple times, but in my heart, i've been served multiple divorce papers. there are still those hopeful for my married future. seeing me as a stable provider, a passionate partner, a guy any girl would be lucky to have. what they don't know is that in my head, there is a growing list of disappoi...

it's been increasingly clearer that the correct answer is suicide.  the inertia of staying alive has been the only thing keeping me together. i've effectively shut off all of my support systems. not that they're unwilling, it's just that the genuine expression of my damaged self has been painted as either my fault or unwelcome. i can't trust anyone to be real with. i always have to withhold something. a real part of myself that can't be given space. i've lowered my standards already. i've stopped looking for acceptance, just basic acknowledgement. without judgement please? nah. not even that, in this economy. with youthful joie de vivre, the alienation was bearable. i had places to be, food to eat. basking in the beauty of novelty. but with age, i'm less receptive to new experiences. a little too set in my ways. it would have been fine if i was still enjoying the old reliables. depression hits differently lately. suicide was once a fantasy. a half-me...

i went on holiday for an entire month and just like that the year's about to end. right around this time last year i was struggling with life. i had reached peak existential burnout. i remember going on travel somewhere nice, a place i've never been, staying at a fancy hotel which had no business being that good in the middle of nowhere. but i wasn't having any of it. i objectively knew i was having a wonderful experience. but subjectively, i felt like a spectator in someone else's body. it felt like a disservice to the body's owner that i'm not having fun over a golden opportunity to see the sights and live the life. life is long. it's long enough for us to take moments for granted. life just feels short because we can't remember every instance we were in an elevator, on the passenger seat of a car, crossing the road, paying for lunch. we just remember the highlights. not every day in school, but how fun our school friends were. not every day at work, b...