I'll apologize in advance for this. I'm an angsty teenager in freshman year and far too much free time on his hands. Everything I say here probably sounds utterly ridiculous. Of this I am eminently aware, yet I still feel as though something should be said.
This might not be the best place for this, but I find myself generally incapable of caring
I am absolutely, singularly terrified of failure. There is nothing worse in my mind then failing someone else and, despite all evidence to the contrary, I still somehow find myself feeling like an absolute failure in my weaker moments. Typing this now I feel very, very afraid someone will look at this text, this explosion of emotion which should probably be contained and think me but another child. I have begun to, in my fear, classify failure in two distinct categories; that which hurt others and that which hurts me. I fear, in my most primal moments, the second the most. I look at my awkward attempts at socialization, tempered by a reputation of nigh constant random dark comedy, and hate myself for it. The first is, in those moments where I pull away from emotions as much as possible and try to (as much as a human being can) act upon logic. I always avoid inconveniencing others in any way I can. I will not, unless under duress, ask another person for anything more important then a pencil. Be it time or material things, I will not.
And that, I suppose, is indicative of what I would define as the greatest fear. Being worthless, being wrong, being another face in the crowd. I utterly despise the fact that I am just another character in another persons story. I look at them the same way, too. I hate that as well, that fact that I will always be a selfish, spiteful creature because of the damning beast that is individuality. I am a firm believer in deterministic morality, that there are ends that do justify means. I would end myself to save two people in a heartbeat. I would be so scared in that moment, that moment where I know I would end without chance of recovery. I hate that so, so very much. I hate the idiosyncrasies of this human existence, the instincts that have formed me into something meant to survive. I hate the fact that I hurt people, the fact that I am imperfect because those imperfections will cause things that should not be. The
The act of writing this is one of the most difficult things I have done in a long, long time. I look at it and think "This is stupid, this will annoy someone, this is not worth their time" and wonder if I should have done this at all. I am a stupid angsty fucking teen writing a stupid fucking angsty post on a forum which is the most eminently friendly place I can think of. I don't know anymore. I don't know if this makes sense or is just a bunch of worthless gibberish that I should have never typed. I, for the longest time, forgot what happiness, the real kind that feels warm and nice, was like. I saw the other side recently and I, in my hubris, tried to hold on. The vice grip I held over my emotions for so long pressed again because, damn it, no one should deal with your bullshit you have to be STRONG because anything else is unacceptable. I cannot believe in myself for belief in the self results in belief in one's failures, which results in a larger number of those failures which means people, people who have thoughts and feeling and emotions and live to live that need not intersect with mine.
I'm sorry about this, I really am. But I needed to say this lest I break open. Please ignore