Dear Diary,
Despite some people complaining that I abuse my blog as a diary, it is after all my diary - a log of my life - and that is its primary role. Technical insights come secondary to sharing my feelings and thoughts.
Many people said I should visit a therapist. I don't think I'm ready.
Today, apathy was replaced with melancholy. I look through my window at the enlightened, whitened blue sky and think. Think... Am I being too hard on myself? I already estabilished that as a fact. But I also estabilished that it's hard to get rid of. The more I procrastinate, the more unhappy with myself I am; the less I procrastinate, the more tired - and thus also unhappy - I am.
As I watch the sun complete its daily chores, I think. Think... Think back to all those projects that could have been successful but were killed by my own bare hands: EnderNet, 64pixels, the rebirth of ASCIImator... countless other ideas few have even heard of... remember BuildCraft Computing? That sure had more than an unfinished CPU emulator written for it.
As I put music on loop through the speakers of my television set, I think. Think... Maybe I'm not fit for work after all? Maybe I should stop trying to be productive and become some kind of writer? Artist? Ideologist? Philosopher? Pfft. My writing is laughable. My beliefs are inconsistent. My creative arts remind me of the act of vomiting - though for very simple things, like the few BC7 stuff I textured, I seem to get things mostly right. Still, there's not enough time for me to accumulate enough skills - and I'm too egotistical to work with other people, so I don't even try to beyond "official contacts".
As I read about people accomplishing great deeds, I think. Think... No. No, no, no. I feel. Feel my heart fill with jealousy and hatred. A desperate need to show my worth... to beat them at their own game? Why? Why do I always feel the need to be the best? Nothing satisfies me but what the flaws of are hidden from my mind.
(You know, it's easier to write about feelings in English. One feels a lot less shy if it's not your native language.)
As I listen to the quiet hum of my computer's fans, I think. Think... No. No! I feel that I'm doing something wrong. Actually, many things. I should just stop being a whiny child and start DOING. CREATING. But I never feel ready... I'm indecisive and my creativity boils down to stealing ideas. I'm so indecisive I pretty much only do things when I'm quite literally forced to by arising circumstances.
As I close my laptop and lie in bed for the night, I think. Think... Have I chosen the right path in life? Am I fit for any other path? Is it too late to excel in another path? It probably is... do I need to excel? The outlook is bleak and you can't take my word for anything - I have proven this many times.
As I think... Maybe the people around me are right? Maybe I do simply like feeling depressed as it makes me feel more emotional? More open to the ballads of the heart? More like a victim of higher forces I can blame everything upon and less like a leader of my own life? Or perhaps I'm just a worthless attention whore who tries to get recognition from everyone and shames those who refuse to play in his game? Or perhaps I'm perfectly fine and all of my issues only exist in the made up world of imagination?
As days pass, it often disappears. When I think of something to do and I want to do it enough, or when I find a new thing to obsess over for a few days, I'm fine. It's only when my mind is bored that I get introspective and perhaps a little bit insane.
I still have dreams. Maybe I am creative after all - uncreative people don't tend to have dreams and ideas. However, I still feel not good enough to go for them. Many of them are also quite literally unrealistic and left to my world of fantasy. Sometimes, I wish my world of fantasy could be materialized... but my penmanship thinking is weak.
Am I simply seeking catharsis, or a true path to follow? Maybe I just need to write more. Code more. Do more. Or perhaps I need to stop being so hard on myself and enjoy life with every passing moment, not focus on the intangible future. Either way, I feel lost.
Sleep well.
PS. Dreams aren't always the sleepy ones.