Feelings will pass, feelings will pass... in The Napkin.

Ever feel like your own friend collective has conspired to quietly tolerate you, and secretly hopes you kill yourself?

It’s the anxiety and passive depression, I tell myself. But, the popular narrative is that all men are horrible, no exception. And if you dare express your feelings as a guy, you’ll get womansplained.

I make a point not to make misogynistic remarks, nor disparage past partners. Criticism is specific, and not applied as a blanket statement on any gender. Hell.

In the past, I was pretty god damn misandrist. I put down my own gender all the time! Whether my heart or logic was in the wrong place, it definitely contributed to self-loathing. If I can see the good in my fellow male, then I can see the good in myself. I am as flawed and as good as anyone else.

The longer I remain in effective solitude, the easier it is to sweep away the seemingly overwhelming negative thoughts. The mind is creative in finding the flaws.

Remember that time you made that mistake? You deserve to feel bad about it!

That is, in terms of recent events of the past few years, I haven’t done much of anything. Whether internally or externally, there’s gotta be a statute of limitations on feeling like crap. Like. Imagine if you crashed your car. You’d probably feel like crap about it. But if it’s been five years, nobody, not yourself or some friend chiding you, can get you on your driving record. The accident was five years ago, let it go, people.

(Just an example. I happen to have a clean driving record.)

Wanna know today’s bizarre rational to not kill myself?

Eh. I don’t feel like it.

Yes.

Apathy.

I am too lazy to kill myself.

Hell, I don’t even hate myself right now. I just have strong emotions and sometimes wires get crossed. Nihilism, misanthropy, anxiety, depression, meet your greatest ally: apathy.

Apathetic nihilism.

Sorry for the vagueblogging. Sometimes I’m all coherent and make sense. Sometimes not. Thanks for listening.