JOURNAL. October 2025.
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?