JOURNAL. October 2025.
why (29.10.2025)
because how pathetic is it to admit that any sort of affection or warmth (as necessary as it is and no matter how much you might like the person it comes from) is incredibly painful to you for reasons you cannot even grasp let alone explain
Not long ago I sent my Silent Hill essay to my friend. My professor had suggested that I publish it, but he is not particularly familiar with Lacanian theory, on which I based my essay. My friend is a practicing Lacanian, so I sent it to him for feedback. It was helpful and I will probably try to publish after making a few edits. The painful part is his saying today that he would be delighted to work with me academically. I know it is good to have connections and I do feel appreciation for him as a friend and yet it hurts me somehow. And it's not his fault it's not the fault of anyone who is kind to me but the very fact of being among others is almost unbearable.
I fantasize often about living in some closed room where my only contact with the outside world through which I am sent things such as books and I send out my own writing to some person with no defining traits at all. Unknown unperson.
sick (25.10.2025)
A horrible sick feeling which pervades me. Disgust for humanity. Disgust at myself for being so miserable and misanthropic. Recent CBOS data—12% for Mentzen's Konfederacja and 9.9% (electoral cutoff is 10%) for Braun's Konfederacja. In the US about 40% still approve of Trump. Poor sad lonely young disaffected pigs bathing in their own shit. The more I am exposed to the thinking of the average person the more I am tempted towards elitism and am only held back by knowing how depraved it also is. Nevertheless it is difficult to be "sympathetic" or "difficult" to these slaves to the death drive who will drown in their own shit if means dragging everyone else into their own shit too. They don't even want to improve their own lives. I would be happen to let them ruin their own if they weren't ruining everyone else's in the process. Yes, whine about elites who treat you like idiots while you choose to wallow in your own ignorance.
Yes, it is evident that I am not well. I slept less again last night. I do not know how long this will last. Awful feeling as of an electric current under my skin. Hatred of myself for being this way. What other way to be? What reason to so any hope for humanity or anything redeemable in it? I was never a human being and that is one of the few things I can be proud of. One begins to understand Nietzsche and revile oneself for doing so. Nietzscheans are losers. Unfortunately so am I. I have the aristocratic disposition which is merely to say that I am mentally and physically degenerate.
"Caring about" things again but at what cost?
I am not fit for social life. Yet reclusion is not a career and does not pay the bills. And most of the times there is nothing to say from me, no ability to speak or create even the rare "literary" output which might at most be appreciated by a niche crowd.
Easier to care or create when you have someone to talk to. I do not know how to this and am incapable of "wanting" to be close to someone or fantasizing about doing so or even of finding thing to say to anyone I might like. Closeness with other people sickens me. And it is far from being happy alone. I am miserable and I do not know what to do. I know only that this is deeply unsympathetic and unsympathizable.
What to do what to do what to do what to do what to do.
Even now that I have thoughts in my head they are more of a pressure than anything else lay their whole weight against the insaides of my kull with hardly a way to get them out and they leave no space for anything else. They do not allow me to read, the words are too slow to find a way in while dodging these wayward thoughts which swallow them up. A need to vomit and no mouth to get it out.
And how bad will it be when I crash again?