I wonder at times what the point is. Not of life. Of living. The worst distraction I’ve ever experienced in life has been my obsession with people’s opinions and affirmations. As much as I appear aloof or independent of it, it influences my behaviour in ways that disgust me at times.
I’m in the process of killing my Tumblr blog. The dashboard on Tumblr seems to drive the same kind of behaviour as Facebook. It turned me into an attention whore seeking desperately to carve a niche for myself in a sea of uninterested acquaintances. But being the naive fool that I am, any seemingly sincere engagement with a stranger leads me to believe that I am being appreciated for the essence of me. The essence of me? I barely know what that is yet I fool myself into believing that others may be able to appreciate it.
I sometimes feel like I’m primed for a mid-life crisis, although this crisis has already been in effect for the better part of my life. Responding stereotypically towards a stereotypical event hardly holds any appeal for me, but the tedious tendencies of society to label everything and everyone is rubbing off on me. I can think of no other reason why I continuously attempt to define my state of mind and my phase of life although arriving at a definitive term is quite simple. Dystopia. This is what it is, but hopefully will not be when it ends.
The struggle then is aptly defined as my grave attempt to turn dystopia into utopia whilst still remaining morbidly functional in a dysfunctional society. Why do I keep measuring myself against society? I must be mad.