Why Do I Even Bother?

It's been a while, innit?

Knowing that a fucking bot is actively scraping this blog kind of takes out the wind in the sails of wanting to write in it.

``But MT, this is a public blog! Shouldn't this be expected?''

Sure, if you'd consent to being chased by a photographer who is trying to capture your every moment as you are walking down the street. And God help you if you're wearing a skirt---you're in a public place, so decency and privacy is not to be expected, eh?

Anyway, bot nonsense aside, I'm just also tired, and maybe a little depressed. But I'm no psychologist, so take that last bit with a heavy dose of skepticism.

It's the end of the year, the traditional period where I just feel sorry for myself. It's a time period where I get a little more pensieve than usual, reflecting on the year just pass, the year that is ahead, and partaking in the self-destructive behaviours of comparing myself against other people.

And this year, 2025, is a shitty year in many ways as it is a great year, in many other ways. But you're not here to hear about that---go join the fuckin' bots and just read the rest of the entries here, eh?

Often times these days, I just wonder about why I'm here. ``Here'' as in here, i.e. in SIN city, doing what I've been doing, putting on a brave front and my best foot forward for my so-called professional stuff (i.e. things that I get paid to do), and just sitting in the corner like a powered down automaton when my work-face is not needed.

Why?

On the one hand, it'd be nice to be acknowledged, but on the other hand, the act of being acknowledged feels banal and phoney to the point that the mere thought of it disgusts myself to the point of contemplation of ritual suicide to cleanse myself of such thoughts, but I digress.

Ever since work has re-instituted the now-known-to-be-stupid five-day work-in-office week, I've not been feeling myself. I was fine with that nonsense before, but I ended up deciding to work from home for one of the days after a long period of not doing so, because I realised that it was definitely better for me to have a day where I could do some day-time activity that could allow me to do something physical, to just sweat it out hard, as a means of relieving the inherent stresses that eventually coalesces into mental issues.

But fuck the people over in the name of capitalism and trend-following, eh?

I'm so fat and lethargic now that I just cannot stand doing anything unless I need to.

I spent the last weekend sleeping most of my 48 hours, spending only roughly 10+ of them out and about doing whatever it was that I needed.

And don't get me started on ``hanging out'' with people. I cannot take it---everyone feels so shallow and callow. Either I cannot identify with what they are saying (what do I know about child-rearing?), or they cannot identify with what I am saying (who gives a shit about the deep exploration of the sound producing features of a recorder?).

With this the ``holiday season'' coming about, it magnifies this disconnect much harder than any other period.

Is this what they call ``anhedonia''? Who knows; surely not me.

I'm just tired.

But am I tired of living? Not so sure about that yet.

I don't even know what I am talking about here now, unsure to what extent I am merely ranting, and to what extent that it is a plea for help.

Because if it is the latter, what kind of help am I looking for? Acknowledgement of perspective? So what? Advice? History has shown that there are very few who can give me advice, let alone good ones, and only because I am not known to approach anyone for advice, preferring to brain it out on my own---you can call this a trauma response from the past where adults have failed me in terms of justice (they actively accused me of an unjust act, and the fuckers threatened to punish me for it should I not kneel), or that I'm acommunicative in articulating the facts for advice dispensation (if I can articulate the facts clearly enough to get advice, I can probably figure out what needs to be done without involving some busybody third-party thankyouverymuch). Empathy? Please... the kind of empathy that many have given me were more pity than anything else, and the few that weren't about pity, I couldn't accept because I felt that I don't have that much of a shit life in comparison with them to feel it as a level ground for sharing.

``MT, you have issues.''

Thanks eagle eye, really appreciate the trite observation.

And with that, I think I should stop here. The bots are circling, and I don't really want to see them doing so while I'm still here.