Someone told me:

Instead of wasting all your "caring" energy on being a sadboy indulging in the comfort of moping/induling in the comfort of thinking of yourself as some tragic ascended hero, maybe instead just accept that you do care about some things and start actually caring *for* them.

It kind of makes sense. But then again this person is insane. They believe that the world isn’t real, that the mind isn’t real, that the afterlife doesn’t exist, and that cross-dimensional entities don’t exist. I believe that my consciousness is real even if the world isn’t what it appears to be. I believe that entities can be contacted with psychedelics or even without at some point in my case. With regard to no afterlife I believe it to be ridiculous to really think you get off that easy. Just one human lifespan and then eternal rest in the oblivion of nothingness. Now that’s too damn good to be true. Despite the imperfections of life, clearly a lot of “effort” went into creating consciousness and the human experience. This is why I suspect that the imperfections and mediocrity are on purpose, as some kind of twisted punishment. It’s too big of a deal that I am involuntarily involved with. I won’t be getting out of consciousness easily.

With regard to the actual content of his comment, I must admit that I have a hard time figuring out what I really care for. I care about how I look so I workout every day in order to have a body just like I used to have. I care about freedom so I don’t have a job. I care about expressing myself so I occasionally write here. But what do I really care about?

With regard to the accusation that I act like a sadboy, I guess it is true to some extent. I’m kind of emo temperamentally– I hold on to suffering and don’t let go easily. However this is not an act. I have suffered real depression and cried real tears. I have screamed in utter despair. I guess that the best thing I can do with my suffering is turn it into an art form, thus becoming a sadboy. If I could sing/rap I would be XXXTentacion. I’ve been depressed and I’ve been obsessed with Lindsey, a girl that I never even spoke a word to. Depression and obsession don’t mix well. The fact that there’s someone willing to be a sadboy just like me by expressing their pain alleviates some of my own suffering. It’s as if the music was created just for me.

With regard to thinking about myself as some “tragic ascended hero,” I wish I could do it more. I wish I could consider myself a hero. The alternative is absurdity without a narrative and I truly hate that.

2 thoughts on “Sadboy

  1. I consider you the most intelligent person I know.
    So I would be in the camp that wants you to turn 25, 30, 35 and so on.


  2. What do I care about on the multiple seas which we discover or create and explore on a supposed plane of immanence, now at the point of its development feeling like a natural process or a presumably finite grid being recorded until we can manipulate its entirety if it becomes something comprehendible to us. It’s why cyber space is somewhat nice as it’s already manipulatable but always being refined.
    All phenomena and thought not able to be fully mapped out so I view it as sun and “solar anus” surrounding sets of different things as all feels like an ever transforming glob otherwise.
    Other than survival of the information grid and the continuation of intelligent agents able to use it I can think of connection, extension, expression, creation and communication so I talk to you, an artificially inseminated blogger who doesn’t believe I’m real.


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