My apartment is littered with garbage, my laundry has been left untouched for months, same for my sink and dishes, I have no special hobbies (or atleast anything that's genuinely worth caring about), I'm not going to school, I only have a part time job that is honestly dull as fuck, I'm an idiot with an illusion of grandeur, I'm physically weak and unremarkable, I'm a coward, I'm a virgin that's never been in anything resembling a real relationship before and I doubt I ever will. I honestly just want to check out of life because you know what? Everything takes too much fucking effort, and I just can't be bothered to put in the necessary effort and energy to even get to 'normal', and even if I achieved anything, I don't know if I'd even enjoy it.
That's pretty much it, everything just takes too much effort. Even things which I devote all my mental and emotional energies towards, I can barely even achieve a half-success. To even get to where I don't look like a worthless slob, I feel like I'd have to do more than devote every waking second of my day, I'd have to dectuple my current energy and effort just to get to the 'neutral' that everyone else lives with normally. I feel like the only thing that gets me through the day, the only thing that makes me look like a real member of society is my innate sense of pretentiousness, that is, I'm a fake. And I don't even feel like if I did have all that energy and effort, it still wouldn't make me happy or amount to anything, cause to be more than 'normal' I'd need even more energy than that, so more than ten times, I'd need a hundred times my current energy or more just to get to 'happiness' or 'success'...
I feel like in order to escape from this way of life would take an enormous, life-changing event in order to catalyze the necessary energy to change my perspective, to make the quantum jump from this pointless existence, but that feels too much of a romanticization itself, that expecting something like that to happen is honestly asking too much, and it will probably never happen. I'm asking for a miracle, when really I should be just disciplined and doing it myself, but I'm always asking myself "What's the point?". The only time I really get off my ass and do anything is if a problem gets big and problematic enough to interfere with my comfortable and idiotic lifestyle.
I complain now, but I'm heading to work in a few minutes, and when I get off my shift tomorrow I'll head to the gym, perform my pointless exercises, and still go home fat and weak, too drained of energy to really do anything else, but vaguely hoping that that energy I expended will someday pay off in a real way, without any idea as to 'how'. I had a couple days off to actually do the dishes and do the laundry, but I just couldn't be bothered. I don't even know why I'm writing about this. I'm sorry.