I don’t trust much these days — not in a cynical way, but realistically. I say I like to take everything not with a grain of salt, but a whole salt shaker. I’ve learned that change isn’t bad, but most people don’t like it — especially when it’s big or too much all at once. I've seen the world repeating itself and yet there are conspiracy theories that I'm not fully sold on, a lot of the ones I have entertained came true/became conspiracy facts. Some are interesting to keep in the back of my mind, like waiting for new episodes of a show — I let them sit, then revisit with a fresh perspective after a couple of months to see where they went.
One thing I’ve noticed: if you change things too much, too often, you never get a sense of the pattern. Like if I were making spaghetti, and every 30 seconds I changed the cooking method — putting the noodles in hot water, then strained them and tried with cold water, then put the noodles in the oven with the sauce and then ten different ways — I'd end up thinking that the last thing I did worked in the end. Sometimes you just have to give things time. But that’s hard in a world of reels and shorts and doomscrolling. I’ve caught myself deathscrolling for hours, feeling like it’s only been a couple of minutes.
I've been burned before — missing red flags, ignoring subtle cues, getting taken advantage of in small and big ways. I can’t blame others completely; sometimes I only have myself to blame. Other times, it’s just life. And yet, I still find myself wishing for something supernatural, like in movies. But I don’t think watching movies or scrolling mindlessly is inherently bad — it’s about balance. Right now, I’m unemployed. I’ve done some things here and there, but nothing has replaced a steady job. And like anything else, even good things — water, milk, "medicine"— too much of anything can be bad.
After my last post, I spiraled. I started thinking, “Nothing I do matters.” That kind of thinking makes it hard to move. But I remind myself: 90% of existence is psychological. If I don’t do anything, I won’t get anywhere. One trick I use is thinking about walking. If I had to walk all the way to my old job, I could do it. It’d take time, but I’d get there. One step at a time — it’s slow, but it works. I wish I could invent the wheel to get there faster, but someone already did — and now you have to pay to use it.
Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore. I just wish I could get back to where I was two years ago — successful, less worried about the future. Being unemployed is weird: you have time, but not freedom. And slowly, the simplest tasks start to feel too heavy. I hate not knowing. So I compare things to try to understand them.
I remember my first job. Everything felt like too much work. But after a while, I got used to it. It’s like working out. At first, the weights feel impossible, but if you keep at it, your body adapts. And soon, you feel off if you skip a workout. That feeling — of momentum — is what I’m missing right now. And it’s hard to generate it on your own. Your mind negotiates with you: “Sleep a little longer,” or “You deserve a break.” But discipline is like a muscle too. The real question is: how do you build it?
I tried cutting out all the little pleasures — to test myself. I lasted almost a week. Then I crashed harder than before. The worst part wasn’t the crash, it was feeling like I failed myself. And yeah, I know a lot of people would kill to be where I am. But also, some would do anything not to be here. That duality messes with me. Am I lucky? Am I wasting my time?
I’m my own worst enemy. Overthinking everything. And yet, I don’t want to stop — because that overthinking has helped me in so many ways. It gives me an edge. What if I lose that?
I’ve always done things differently. I remember in school, we had a project to make a cardboard box. Everyone else made a square or rectangle, when I saw that I made a circular one. Not to stand out — just because it felt right. I like to observe, reimagine, improve. Not to get praise, but because it’s who I am. Sometimes I wonder: if I hadn’t seen everyone else making squares, would I have made a square too? I like to think no — but I’m not sure.