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2024/06/13#p1

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I have so many books on my shelves that remain unread; books that are wannabe high-brow, pulp psychology affairs bought (or gifted) with the best of intentions. These books are designed to make me smarter or have a better understanding of myself and the world around me but I can't help think acquiring them has been more about the optics of seeming rather than being smarter.

Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

People like that do things like this.

I don't know if it's my mental state but I can't bring myself to take them down off the shelf and actually read them. I can't concentrate long enough and am always saying next week, next month, which becomes next year, never.

There are a number of novels, mainly sci-fi, that should be easier to digest, less demanding, but are still untouched and unread. The only books I've finished in the past year are some kids Warhammer story books. I know that I could just read a couple of pages at a time, keep the mental exertion to a minimum. I tell myself this yet things don't change. A deep apathy has sunk in, become bone deep, and that's hard to shake.

It's so much easier to sit I front of the TV. It's so much easier to play a game that requires no real concentration to achieve the basics. It's simpler to much about on drum machines under the guise of working on tracks but then not doing anything with the results of the lost hours.

I hate starting things and not finishing so use this as an excuse not to start, despite doing it all the time. I hate limiting myself to one thing saying I should diversify, despite spending an entire evening doing the same thing and having nothing to show for it.

A lot of it comes down to what I think I should be or do rather than what I want. Not necessarily to match external expectations and pressures but those inside — a feeling of not having met my potential, of always getting through on the bare minimum when I should have done more.

To some, it might seem that I'm lazy or work shy, it's just that I've never found had a job that gives me a sense of satisfaction or purpose. Work is something I do not who I am.

But I don't really know who or what I am. Only what I think I should be.

Then there is an abject fear of failure, the embarrassment of being 'found out' as a fraud, and a lack of confidence in my abilities. The constant need for approval is testament to this no matter what it is I'm doing. In that regard I suppose I'm the ideal person to use social networks — which is why I had to leave and delete my accounts. It's why I had to give up drinking when I was 17. It why so much goes unexplored because I fear the dependency I will develop on the feedback, on the need for praise. I'm an addict without a substance, always seeking something to fill a void within me.

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