Desperation

Hey there. The week has not been nice to me (or rather, my mind has not been receiving the turns of events that happen this week well). I just verified that I am a friggin desperate dude, not matter how hard I try to deny it. I am a friggin loser, a Jerry Smith in my own story, but worse. Even Jerry could get married. I can't even get a friggin girlfriend, can't even maintain a decent conversation with anyone for more than 1 minute. I am just an insecure, super-self-conscious loser that can't even get the motivation to fix all the things that are wrong with me, even when I already know what need fixing.

I'm sure you'd have already figured out the general tone of the post by now. Not too late for you readers to close this page before I ruin your otherwise great day. You have been warned.

Still here? Then let's step back a little before I go back to my self-derogatory fit so that you know how I came to the conclusion. I'm sure any regular reader would have found the pattern by now, and are currently laughing at me at how desperate and dense I am. To those who somehow are denser than me: Every time I just knew a girl and we just clicked just a little bit, I was already all over her and writing shit about that in this blog. Looking back, it is freaking embarrassing (self-conscious alert. probably nobody cares except myself). All of them are conveniently listed in this post. How much more can you be desperate, self? Guess what, I can. I happened to met an old JC (that's high school to the rest of the world) friend in the temple that I usually go to, and she texted me that she wanted to visit my company, and I just (tried to) kept the chat going for 3-4 days straight, where the gap between replies are just dumb. I realized that what I was doing was so disgustingly clingy, so I decided to end the text then and there right after she replied me after an overnight worth of hiatus (annoyance alert). She had been pulling that hours of hiatus between replies for at least a couple of days now, and I was so dense to only realize that she might be signaling me that she wanted a break last night. Or maybe I was reading too much into this. I don't know. I'm just a frickin desperate who is too dense to get whatever signal girls throw at me.

Right now, all I want is just to go for a loooong retreat, just meditate, don't care about any other things. Just live, eat, meditate, contemplate. Forget about all these. Reset. Don't care about anyone's impression or expectations of me (self-conscious alert). Don't care about what happens in everyone's life. Or what happens to the world in general.

And what did I do instead? I went to do a Rick and Morty marathon last night to numb my hurt ego after that realization. I blasted Zedd's music in my ear to drown whatever I am overthinking right now. And yet somehow some of it still overflows to this blog post.

End rant. All the best in our fucking endeavors, readers. All the fucking best in our fucking endeavors.

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