I just finished this show called Tear on Netflix and it’s put me in a sort of miniature existential crisis. I’m done with those though. I’ve spent the last two years in depression and anxiety, always complaining about my present situation without having actually done anything good in my life. I guess the only thing I can be proud of is the podcast that I’ve been doing. It’s a pretty cool thing to tell people about me but I guess it’s not something I’m proud of nowadays. I’ve reduced my whole identity to an online persona of Mr. Podcaster or Mr. Writer. I guess that’s all that’s actually interesting about me. I’m tired of my own bullshit but what can I do? I can’t go back 3 years and undo everything that I’ve done to maybe accept that I have tons of regrets and my life could have been way better. I’m tired of all that. I wanna be better.
If I have to ask myself why I’ve spent every night last year trying to succeed in my podcast, it’s probably because I thought it would be my way out. I’ve always wanted to be great. To be one of the greats like Nietzche, Hemingway, or Dostoevsky. But I realize that they were great but the lot had really horrible lives. They lived with anguish, sorrow, pain, and as much horror as everybody else. So what exactly made them great and why do I want to be great? Well, now I realize why people eventually hate talking to me. It’s because I ask questions that nobody wants the answers to. But I can’t help myself. That’s just who I am. I’m a melancholic guy. I’ve accepted who I am. This is me and there is nothing I can do about it. That’s one of the pains in life, being ourselves and being unable to do anything about it. I’ve long stopped wanting to be great for some time now. And it made me slow down. Before I was on this unstoppable momentum of me forcing myself to succeed in life. But what does that really mean? I guess, my idea of it is to be some pseudo-intellectual that everyone would look up to. I’ve lost that desire. And I feel like I don’t know where I want to be anymore. I don’t care if I’ll make my mark in history or belong to the hall of fame anymore. I think that’s a good thing. At least I’ll stop beating myself up for not being able to fulfill my expectations if I never have expectations in the first place.
I wanna be great though. But not the type of great that I’ve been searching for. I wanna be a great kind of me. Someone who I don’t regret becoming. And now I can again start working on myself at the age of 22. I’m a failure by my own standards but that’s okay. I still have time. I applied for a job and hopefully, I can afford to live in Metro Manila soon. I’d start hating myself when I start commuting again but I guess that’s just life. Having a repetitive and menial job would destroy me again, but maybe that would be for the best. I’m a blade of grass. I’m insignificant. And that’s okay.
I guess the next step for me would be to find that great version of me and be that person.
