Introduction

September 6, 2013 § Leave a comment

I am a self-proclaimed masochist. I revel in my inactivity which tortures me day in and day out to the point of tears, addiction and insomnia. Elaborate theories and eloquent words fascinate my tired mind. I know, I know, I KNOW! What else can I say? My ego is my knowledge! Just look! Me, I, my opinion: it’s all I ever write about. Even my drawings are of myself. Sex, lovers, attractive women. Photos: I can spend minutes looking over every detail of a photo of myself. Narcissism? In a sick way, yes. The one thing that I have not failed myself in is seduction and attractiveness. I also know, however, that this can not last and will only result in horrific consequences when I find myself having to rely on more than looks to enjoy myself. I know, too, that my troubles are caused by the self-inflicted trauma of each and every night berating myself for the things I don’t do, the things I have done, the things I will never do. Never do? Why? Because I’ve had these thoughts before! I know it all! It’s been proclaimed countless times: this year will be different. This year I will act.

But acting on my words is one thing I have always failed to do, because I’ve always made it through school and friendship without very much effort. I have been given the gifts of luck, genetics, money. But the fear of loss is so strong.

My love of hedonism is one thing I am certain of and even that I can not rely on anymore. I am afraid. I’m afraid of age, and that is what makes me age.

And I arrive thus at my ultimate paradox: I am terrified by that fear; I haven’t yet succeeded in getting rid of it. Mulling over the why’s and the whatnots of my existence will ultimately be my downfall because I KNOW, I’ve heard and read that tension and stress breed personal misfortune.

Stage fright leads to failure. Failure leads to stage fright. God knows I’m well acquainted with stage fright.

When I am made aware of an error in my behavior, I am of course superficially thankful that it has taught me a lesson. Deep down, however, my innards collapse just a little bit more for not having acted upon that god-forsaken knowledge.

Because I know so much! I am so confident and boastful of this so-called intelligence and self-awareness! When it is made clear that I may have been mistaken, it is myself I have betrayed. To quote a ubiquitous cliché, I am my own worst enemy. I am a deluded narcissist.

My emotions take control not only over my actions, but mainly my lack of action. I’m terrified of beginning anything because, although I am aware that I am capable of greatness, I have no faith in my actually getting to that stage, because my emotions take control over my actions, and mainly my lack of action.

Thus begins the action of beginning a blog.

PS: I’m frightened of beginning a blog because exposing myself thusly means accepting (because I know, but I hide it from myself) that I am not, in fact, as interesting as my immediate surroundings might make me out to be. Effort will have to be put in to make this tiny speck of source code in the intimidatingly ginormous web of information that is the Internet, worth any attention at all, and without the help of a pretty young face.

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