I've been dieting and exercising very hard lately. I suppose I've made some progress, in that I'm noticeable thinner and lighter, but it sure feels like I haven't made any progress. Though by that, I mean I'm still struggling with all the same old shit, constantly questioning if my feelings are betraying me, if I'm going in the right direction, if I'm a failure and a loser, who I am and where I want to go in life, even a stupid question like "What do I even like doing?" seem so thorny, so heavy, so laden with traps and shrouded in darkness that I confuse myself just thinking about it; I think about it constantly, but I can't come up with anything that seems like an 'acceptable' answer.
Just... being a lonely bastard just makes everything so much harder. When I'm angry, I'm furious. When I'm sad, I'm hopeless. When I'm hungry, I'm famished. When I'm bored, I'm crushed. My head is an echo chamber, and each thought makes an echo and resonates with the previous one, and they just get stronger and stronger until something forces me out of it.
"Just go find a group or some social activity then you stupid fuck ain't it obvious?" I suppose it's simple enough, but I can't for the life of me find anything that I'm remotely interested in or seems like a place I'd fit in at all. And every place I do go it's the same story, played over and over ad infinitum; maybe I just have a sad face and it puts people off, maybe people have a preternatural sense for my cloying need for social contact and it scares them away, maybe it's simply my inferiority complex acting up so I'm never being aggressive enough in trying to connect with the 'superior' human beings around me, maybe I'm actually an autistic that can't pick up social cues to save my fucking life, but whatever it is, it makes everything turn out the same, no matter the time, place, or situation. Four years or so ago now, when I got dumped by the last girl I dated over text message, I got angry and kicked my garbage can and sent trash flying everywhere, while thinking "This is it, this is the end (of my social chances)." and on more days than not, that felt like a true prophecy on my part.
I thought exercise was supposed to fill me with endorphins or whatever? I'm going to keep working my ass off, maybe I just haven't hit a threshold that I need to hit, but I've been working and sweating up a storm. I was thinking of getting internet and re-wiring myself, but just the thought feels like an admission of weakness on my part, that I just want to go back to the days where I substituted the various idle comforts found on the internet for legitimate, face-to-face social contact, which is why I unwired myself in the first place, to force myself and transform myself into the extrovert that I feel will make me happier. This is just another dilemma that I'm always asking myself, where if my strategy has any legitimacy whatsoever and I simply need to redouble my efforts again, or if I'm just being stupid and childish and just acquiesce to the increasingly digital world with it's also-increasing levels of indifference and apathy toward everyone and everything...
I suppose I can atleast thank this online community for letting me vent when I need to, every now and again.