I Am A Bottomless Wallowment of Self-Loathing

I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet from my stupid blog posts, but I never seem to live up to my expectations.

I’m a harsh taskmister, for mineself and the world around me, and most of the time I’m blitheringly content to just glare inward and outward with no deeper inspection into the cause.

I’m also a complaining whiny buttface. About lots of things. It’s too cold, I can’t sleep, I can’t write, I don’t like this, I don’t like that, I don’t like them, I’m hungry, it’s too loud, it’s too quiet, why can’t I just be HAPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?!

And sometimes I’m not. It’s not because my circumstantials change. It might be just as cold or hot or loud or quiet or annoying or boretastic as it was the day before, but it doesn’t bother me. I don’t complain, I don’t whine, and I’m just fine.

Being complaintive makes you feel like the current situation is unbearable. If it’s too cold, then it’s too cold to bear. You can’t deal with the cold. You are powerless to be happy in the presence of cold. The cold is the master of your life, and you may be happy only at its whim.

Complaining says that the situation is intolerable and you are unable to do anything to make it better, so complaining is all you can do. And if complaining is all you can do, you do more of it. It’s a very depressing situation to be in.

If it feels like you’re at the mercy of cruel fate (or weather or internet connection or roommate), complaining seems like the only option. A better option than trying to improve things and just get shot down. Complain, and criticize other people who seem to succeed without any of the problems you’ve got. It’s not fair. Things just happened to turn out well for them. Just dumb luck.

That’s where I live most of the time. Today, though, something was different. It’s still just as cold out, but I can deal with it. All the annoyances were there, but they were more tolerable, for some reason. I decided that I could handle these tiny little problems. And probably some bigger ones too. It felt empowering. Which in turn, made me feel more equipped to deal with those things. Et cetera.

I doubt this is a turning point in my life. I’m sure someone will cut me off on the interstate or eat the last of my cereal and send me into a fit of rage, and I’ll be back where I started.

For that matter, I don’t even know how to tell you to feel the same way. I got nothing. No advice. No seven steps to happiness. I just had a good day and felt like writing about it. It’s my damn blog and I can talk about what I want. So there.

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One Response to I Am A Bottomless Wallowment of Self-Loathing

  1. Anonymous says:

    What a fun little read. The mind can be a sad little place frantically seeking complacency. I can only imagine gratefulness to be the cure, because HOLY SHIT LOOK AT IT ALL!

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