full moon night

It’s one of those nights when you feel like you need to talk to someone and just cry your heart out. This whole day had been a fucking existential spiral thinking about work/life/job/finance.s I need a long vacation and not think about the personal crises I am facing.

(Listening to Billy Joel’s Vienna works though sometimes…)

I have an exam the day after. And I should be studying. But the spiral is getting too deep that it’s eating me inside out. (Feeling this shit for the last couple of weeks). I might have to go on a drive I guess… Or maybe I should be resuming my therapy… :(

I for sure know working my ass off on [[Machine Learning]]/Tech, in general, helps me escape this overwhelming emotion. But deep down I know it won’t cut it for the rest of my life. Even picking up Shiny (my guitar) doesn’t help and I am in constant freezing mode, phasing out.

I am always reminded of the turtle guy’s “A Guide to Worrying”. This is a recurring theme in my life. I worry to the point I feel exhausted. I exhaust more to the point of worrying about my existence. The never-ending cycle.

Of course, being this much vulnerable most of the time isn’t tractable (and attractive) always. You’ll start to exhaust people around you to the point even you start to feel ugly about your own emotions. I know this. Some people have said this.

Being vulnerable means, you won’t get to experience life at its ultimate terror-and-beauty because you are constantly thinking of being existentially insignificant, that life is inconsequential. Kinda ruins the beautiful terror perhaps?

But, this also means that you are uniquely regressing to your own self. That the projection of the self you see of yourself, at its absolute, hauntingly, feels more appealing to yourself. I don’t know if these words make any sense to anyone but myself.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t give a freaking damn about the angsty-spiraling emotions. And let myself lose in the “go with the flow” state, to wherever I can sail my boat. In hindsight, I come to realize that there’s no flow either. It’s just a whirlpool in a still lake.

It just feels absurdly injustice to my “self” that I have to remind myself often about letting go of everything. That I’m just an observer passing through this reality. That it’s naturally “Nish”y be like this.

But I don’t know what everything else feels like. I’ve been consumed by the banality too long, for too many times, to the point the insanity itself feels like a sane version of me. The constant wring, letting go of my thoughts.