I'm a pretty nihilistic person, but I can usually get by on the mantra of "Nothing matters, and that's okay". I can still connect, and love, and live. Except when I can't. How do you make friends when you can't shake the feeling that you're worthless, that there's no point to anything? How can I connect with people that have something as unfathomable to me as hope, people that believe in something other than the depths of human cruelty? How do I love knowing it's for nothing? How do I live?
I used to find solace in my writing; I would drunkenly spill everything out, candid and content. But a blog isn't a diary, and shit got real. I can't just put my life on the internet when I have secrets that don't belong to me, and a story that isn't all my own. Which has resulted in my abandonment of something I used to do once a week.
I also try to resist telling the ether about my depressive states, because I honestly cannot handle the outpouring of "love" and "support" that happens in the abstract, internet way that exists now. You can't tell me that it will be okay, that I'm awesome and lovely, etc. You don't fucking know me. I'm frequently not awesome. If you don't know how I can lash out and be downright cruel, just because it's raining today, or how I can be a broken mess for days because I had another bad dream, you can't love me. You don't know me. I don't want to know that my cheap facade, my public face, my fucking Facebook profile, is lovable.
How do I reconcile my nihilism with my empathy? I know that nothing matters, but that doesn't stop me from feeling. I'm frequently afraid, and always suspicious, but I'm desperate to believe in something.
I also try to resist telling the ether about my depressive states, because I honestly cannot handle the outpouring of "love" and "support" that happens in the abstract, internet way that exists now. You can't tell me that it will be okay, that I'm awesome and lovely, etc. You don't fucking know me. I'm frequently not awesome. If you don't know how I can lash out and be downright cruel, just because it's raining today, or how I can be a broken mess for days because I had another bad dream, you can't love me. You don't know me. I don't want to know that my cheap facade, my public face, my fucking Facebook profile, is lovable.
How do I reconcile my nihilism with my empathy? I know that nothing matters, but that doesn't stop me from feeling. I'm frequently afraid, and always suspicious, but I'm desperate to believe in something.
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