Cafe°🍵⋆.* Coileaín

Jan 29 - Idk

I wrote a horribly sad post below this one. I will probably write more of them. I will probably not be able to fully let sink in - too distracted by neurotic habits of deeply disheartening rumination and shiny entertainment objects - the things that I have read tonight that have given me pause in terms of my current condition. But I guess I'll record it here for myself nonetheless. Can't abandon all hope.

Grit. Grit, grit, grit. A few things have happened to me over the past nearly 4 years (which holy fuck, what a horrible waste of time):
- I stopped caring so much about perfection, which lightened the load off of my performance for everything, but also had a weird side effect of not caring about output/effort I think? Idk.
- I remember pointedly deciding to write stream of consciousness, and somewhere in that had a hard time facing what I'd written (hmmm), and lost my desire to edit somehow
- Scratch the first two. They were both valiant efforts to get to the bottom of myself, to stop feeling like I have to curate, but also because my art always felt too contrived to everyone else's seemingly natural and effortless (and sometimes stupid but somehow still celebrated) works.
- But for some reason, it's hard for me to give effort to anything, really. I try a little bit and then either get distracted, get too scared/feel inner pressure, or feel bitter about others who didn't seem like they had to try as hard as I have, so I stoop to their level out of spite.
- I back down
- I count myself out
- I'm prickly and combative
- I can't tell, but I seem to have become even more defensive and self-isolating, and fearful
- My thoughts of myself, others, and the world have become increasingly fatalist, doomer, and fixed
- I increasingly feel hopeless in being able to change
- I'm increasingly (?) afraid of being "caught out" as a fraud, to the point where I hardly try anything new at all out of fear of people thinking I'm simple, elementary, or too late

- I think all of these become horribly worse or possibly even started shortly before, during, or after Palestine in 2023

Regardless, all of this to say that today I think it's pointless to reflect too much in the moment. I think it's better spent thinking about or reimagining the present self. Fantasizing, formulating, reworking. Coming back to a state of craft, realizing that I am, in every moment, simply a starting point. Maybe not a great one...maybe I'm starting off incredibly volatile in love and closeness; defensive and mistrusting in the face of the mundane, the well-adjusted, the consistently supportive and loving; with four years of nothingness, nothing to materially show for what I care about doing in terms of effort aside from frenetic writings; lacking deeply in grit and discipline to great personal consequence, thrashing and vomiting at most attempts of control, including self-control; unable to care for myself regularly in the face of constant, overwhelming modern stimuli; deeply commitment-avoidant in all realms except for the choice of commitment to freedom; lacking in deep, unwaivering character and confirmation of self, whatever that means, whatever is required to stand firm in the face of your opposition; unbelievably fearful of being diminished, reduced, not taking seriously for a mistake or bad question, or boxed in to something too tight, too incorrect, too permanently, to great personal consequence for the natural continuation of one's life; and so on...I certainly take liberties with this list being exhaustive for my own personal benefit over the comfort of you, the reader...but there are certainly things that I am good at, still, there must be. I've become incredibly good, and truly always have been, at asking questions - inquisitive is the world people use for me, the inquisitor; I am good at and care about touching people's hearts through what I say, write, draw, or do; I still have the desire to try, to contribute something good to this world, in spite of years of fighting mental cagings; I still have good, specific aesthetic taste; but for some reason, the list ends there. There is certainly more, but the state of my opinion of myself forbades further praise, probably. Dunno. Anything else I could write there - I'm hot, I'm well-liked, I've got a good career at the moment, I've done cool things with my art, and so on - are things I either did not earn, or am riding a past, dead self's effort for, not my own. I think that's partly why I want to fuck up my hair, why I want to do things wildly for once - I want to fail, I want to fuck up, and I don't want to ride my outer appearance for acceptance anymore. I don't trust people anymore anyway because of it. I either don't like them because I assume they don't like me because they don't like my outer shell, or I just assume they like me because my outer shell is awesome-looking and easy for anyone to like. Getting upset when someone doesn't like the way I look is a problem that I think can be fixed by knowing that I still have something meaningful to offer within. There's probably some intertwining with the whiteness concept here, that the unearned outer absolves anyone of earning acceptance through the inner, or only being good to someone if that someone buys into it (likes you for being a very NPC "white" girl with slight edge). I want...no, need - to be liked not for my outer shell, but for what I otherwise offer from within; my true nature, good and bad, for what I make, for what I learn and share...which may not be things for everyone.

In the past, I would oppose people online anoymously, and when people would become incredulous over what I said, my whole body would go flush and I'd start to panic - I'll know that I have started to move past all of this when that doesn't happen to me the same way anymore. Genuinely. I swear there was a time where I was able to handle it - when I was really young - how have I regressed in so many ways? Perhaps I grew up too early, didn't get to fail enough. I played it safe in every way by thinking of the best way to do everything always. I think preventing public failure...no...I genuinely did want to learn from others online. I really did have the growth mindset back then.

Maybe I'll never be able to write tangibly again; with a proper beginning, middle, and end. I need an agent, an editor, a mentor for that or something.

I think I've run out of things to say. If I'd written this on paper, it probably would have been more impactful for me. This just feels like another gluttonous, self-indulgent dump that does nothing but absolve me of the very discomfort I need to move on.

Welp.