What I now see, is that I'm concerned with anything: business, work, my self-image and what people around think of me, my perceived shortcomings... but not with my psychic comfort right now. Resembles an attitude of typical parents that perceive their child as a doll or a robot obliged to strive for fitting their conception of success, no matter how oppressed and miserable he or she feels in the process.

There’s a specific type of discontent accompanied with a certainty “Everything should be easy and accomplished from the first attempt”. It appears when unforeseen obstacles emerge. An urge to give up appears with this discontent type.

What self-loathing and self-pity have in common, is a voluntary refusal of responsibility. That's a very corrosive state of being sure that I'm not the one who has control over my perceptions and overall life.

It's tempting to think this way - if it wasn't me who ruined my life, I'm not the one to blame then. But in the same time, if I have no control, who's going to clean up the mess?

Creativity is blocked in this state of irresponsibility. It's hard to think of solutions to the problems, 'cause there's a desire to feel myself a poor, helpless child, and coming up with solutions impedes it.

There are also all sorts of vicious circles formed by self-loathing and self-pity:

- SL for SL
- SP for SL
- SL for SP

Apparently, one of the reasons to experience SP is that it provides a slight and brittle protection against SL, as it’s accompanied by a certainty “I don’t deserve to be hated so much”.

Found what might be a root hatred-producing certainty: "I must be ideal". It's behind the discontent from every mistake of mine, and the self-loathing for any shortcomings and negative traits.

With this certainty in place, I don't even allow myself to be a human: to make mistakes, to be wrong, to be silly or stupid, to have the very right to any unpleasant qualities. Hence the fear of showing my true self to anyone.

I've also noticed that the more I self-loathe, the more venomous person I become, the stronger the wish to hate, despise, be disgruntled and envious. The less self-loathing, the less there are other types of venom and the easier it is to eliminate them.

Those people didn't mean harm.
Those people did say all the right things, did try to be the right ones in the right places.
They were just so few.
Few are never remembered in history before the many.
They were overpowered by the sheer masse of pure evil, and now they're bitter exiles, like I was once upon a time, and no one sympathizes with them.

Because they said the right things in the evil tongue, and promised the future goodness of the evil race. and they didn't mean harm. but they did it in the end.
Result>intention.

But I still cannot force myself to dislike some of the songs on YT music.
I am part of this cancer myself.
And that's why I want to be alone and away, decomposing quietly.

Been watching the omnipresent background nox. At first, nox strengthens because I add nox for nox to it - a 2nd level nox of sorts. There’s an illusion of sincerity, a confidence that by self-loathing I’m soberly aware of my shortcomings. If I still don’t remove attention and go on observing despite the discomfort, a noticeable relief soon comes, nox withers greatly, and a pleasant clarity emerges: I myself choose to support this nox, it’s not something obligatory or independent from my own will. However, I still can’t grasp why do I support nox or why does it feel so attractive, it’s all covered with a strong shell of insincerity.

Here we go again
Do-si-do again
One step, two steps back and forth
It's a dance we do
I know all the moves
Three, two, one, they're back for more
I give them names
Anxiety wants to play
Panic will be here soon
We've got lots of things to do (things to do)
I make friends with all my demons
They depend on me to feed them
They follow me around
They follow me around
I don't have the heart to end it
Guess we're kind of codependеnt
With friends like thesе
Who needs enemies?

Icon for Hire - Enemies
____
Сьогодні зранку мене знову накрило. А потім - трохи розмов з Е, битовуха, й зараз....я запалила арома-свічку, відкрила вікно - трохи блакиті й сонця, та...
мені нічого не хочется

Fuck the cosmonautics day.
In the end, the Soviet space thought and school was just a dead-end, doomed to become what it had become.
Nuff said.

In the middle of the war, I picked it up.
Trying to understand who I am.
I was in pieces even before the war had started, and I was so much so that I really made a pivot in my life comparable with the ones in 2013 and 2007.
I want to be alone, lads.
I really want the world to forget about my existence, being alone, playing old and new games.
Tea, cookies and slow decomposition -- my motto from 2015 was never so on-point.

But I am caught up in the job I am starting to fucking hate, I am caught up in other things, nothing as sinister as say 2015-2018 but I'm so fucking tired, of it, dear Universe.
I slept for the whole day yesterday, stating a sick leave, and I kinda want more.
Won't get it =(

I tried to compose something but I just cannot, it isn't here in me anymore.
The 1st 9th of April in years I didn't write here about ya.
Maybe I said whatever I could, maybe it's just so long gone I cannot say anything anymore.
Maybe I'm just tired after an eventful day.
At any rate... I'm sorry for everything, c**d.

I don't wanna be stuck, I don't wanna be crazy
This is the way that my sadness made me
Better come quick, yeah better come save me
Tell me, tell me
Tell me who I'm supposed to be now
Make me better
I can't stay halfway dead forever
I fear now
There's not much left of me
When you take the sick away
Who am I supposed to be?
....
For years, this is all I've known, this has had my heart, this has been my home
And now I'm scared to lose myself, scared of letting go

Icon for Hire - Supposed to be
___
Мені просто нічого додати.
Я писала про Мелані нещодавно, але її пісні це мистецство. Тоді як Аріель - це щирість, це сповідь.

...that you've read and I know it
I'm sorry, I told them all of it.

I never ever again wrote anything completely honest from my name.
Actually, no, I did -- but only during short moments of not understanding where I was and who I was.
Guilty pleasures taking my mind again.

The best day would never return.
Those days in late May and early June were a bliss. A real bliss, the only time I really knew that for real, I have a chance to be normal. I started to look and feel as if I were normal, albeit a bit mainstream, and, first and foremost, happy.
I only recently realized that I only told about it to one person, and very recently.
After that time I was too far gone.
And now I am but a shadow.

Another night when I want to scream at my memories.
Now on more levels than ever before.
I would've liked to smoke, but I quit years ago, although I didn't even start for real. I only have one bad habit and it's coffee and energy drinks.
That and sitting at night mourning my memories.
Screaming at the silent walls of my home office.
Then I almost come to my senses, and a dry cough rips me apart.

The better days would never go back.
This song is playing loops in my head, just like the "This fucking summer" was in 2020.

I thought that one of my best achievements in life was staying alive in one of the harder periods of it.
Now I am not so sure.
You know what, the guilt would be with me forever. I was __that__ kind of man, I know it for sure.
I was that kind of man, I could do certain things better than others, but I chickened out, I was lost in conflicting loyalties, shady dealings of shady powers, career development and overcompensation, and when I emerged on the other side of it I saw that

I could have lied dead with a clear conscience now, but all I am left is a sense of guilt

Spit out those words.
Spit it out like if those were vomit.
I slept for most part of the day, then I drank some and I woke up.
I ended up in one of the bad(here I wanted to erase it all) better(here again) best (and here) situations.

I am repeating the fate of my ancestors, only on a new, somewhat crazy level.
Would anything I had ever done matter in the end?
Probably not but honest to Gods, I tried. Maybe I just tried not enough.

I was probably given a choice, after all.

Summer of 2014, we are sitting in a café, the sun kissing the black tarmac of the street.
She goes to our table and asks one simple question, that I try to answer. My date is extremely irritated of that fact.
Bullshit.

You say, I'm not so old?
You say, I have a lot of time still?
Maybe I do. But you know, old people are defined by that time they understand that they failed in life.
You know, some people are forever young, and not in death, but in life. They reach 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 -- but they know why they live and boy, do they fucking live...
I knew some of those people, and yes, at some time in my life I dreamt of being like them in my later years.
I spoke recently to one lad who had been through much more death and destruction than I had been ever in my life -- and he said he feels like he's 20 although he is my age.
I feel like I'm 80.
Because I lived this life already. Now it's just a dull sequel.

I slept for long hours and then it hit me.
Maybe we romanticized suicide in our teens not as a fleeting moment of madness in the commercial culture, and not entirely out of youthful spite, being frowned upon and not desired anywhere when things mattered in our formative years?
Maybe we did it because we knew what was there for us?
Maybe because we knew that some of us would become the main vehicle for aggressive wars, some of us would become its victims, some -- refugees, some -- unwanted exiles...

Maybe that's why there was such a overwhelming feeling of "let's end it now, while we are young, while we still CAN"?
I would never know the answer because I could not.
I chose to stay.
Bullshit.

Jan 1st 2004
0215
We try to find some champagne in the festive City.
We find it in some kind of 24/7 small shop, buying all they have and eventually drinking it all.
Music is blasting, I remember it as now, t.A.T.u, 200kmh, second edition.

In 2021, there was a tribute album by several artists from all around the world.
Several month later, the war reignited in Ukraine.

The generation that grew up on those lyrics is the main vehicle of waging this war.
It was all lies.
All a giant, flashy lie, that worked as a cover operation for the rise of the Beast from the East.
And I was a part of that lie, I was caught up in it, the best memories in my life are soaked with it like with a deadly poison.

Memories from before the war.
Before the cursed 2014, before I realized that I was shaped by the foreign and aggressive culture, before, when I thought I lived in a sane world when people were more rational than they ever were.

I was young, hungry and angry.
Later I was old, overweight and docile.
Now I am old, overweight but I'm angry again.

It brings damn memories from somewhere from beyond the veil, memories of me sitting behind the desk, building doomed projects, working under people that I later mentored.
Memories of the ultimate freedom when I graduated, of being a cripple, a fragment, but still someone. Trying to cheat the system instead of blending in.
All is gone.
Just I do remain.

Whatever was, it was. It had passed.
I speak different language(s), I work my arse out, I try not to think about whatever background I came from.
It's all gone.
I'm here in a lifeless void instead of what was there.
I could outwardly smile and appear somewhat crazy but positive.

But --
There's a void, people.
Who are you man -- they ask me.

I am The Unnamed and I come from Nowhere.

Fuck it might be an honest answer. I saw so much but yet I didn't see the essential things, I came through a lot but still I didn't go to places I really needed to be.
I did so much but probably it wasn't enough. Maybe those were not the right things at all.
I try to keep calm and carry on.
Dying is a weakness.

More than anything, the Russian culture has The Mission.
That's what makes it attractive.
It is almost always not about Russia, it's about everything else.
It's about Yuri Gagarin to bring the Space to its knees, and to prove that there is no God (as their ideology said then).
It's about the WW2 when Russians saved the day (as they say, ignoring the fact that they were the ones that started it by invading Poland along with Hitler).
It's about bringing the Prols of all lands together.
Russian culture is incredibly outward, unlike any other I know, even the US globalism is facing inwards inside the US.

That's why it's hard to stop thinking in Russian about the outside world.
But I sure will.

Oooh, ok, I understood it now.

I do hate. I just don't hate exact people, not in bulk at least.
I do, though, hate russian culture.

I really hate russian culture for its treachery, even treason.
For all its promises unfulfilled, for all its lies, for all its half-truths, for all that shit.

The real enemy. Making people think that the country has some flair of being somehow good and moral.
Making tethers that still hold me to this country of morons, and although it burns to touch it I couldn't fully break free.
I doubt that I would -- ever.
I never revealed a secret that I, myself, am not fully a product of russian culture.
My native cultures are two.

But still I hate only one of them.

First day of 2023.
2023 is a big mystery to be solved by humanity.

Most of us wished "please let it be at least no worse than 2022"
It might actually be worse. Either that or much better, but I don't think it would be the same.

This year might end the war, or see it escalating, or both.
This year might bring peace, or destruction, or both.
This year might bring white swans, or black ones, or both, perhaps even as part of the same event.

It might be the year of the magnitude of 1918, 1991 and 1945, or it may be as forgotten and insignificant in hindsight (at least in public opinion) as 1922 or 1954, or 1979.

I know one thing this year would not be for sure.
It won't be easy.
For all of us.

But what was in it for me?
2022.

I relearned hate? No.
Oh, I want russia to cease to exist and I want them to experience whatever they've brought to others, but do I hate? No.
Hate clouds judgement. Just cold, merciless rationalism.

What 2023 would be like? I will maybe write a post about it here but mostly I hope for a hard, unforgiving year full of struggle, blood, death... and hope.
The alternative to that is, unfortunately, slavery and death. We are too committed to withdraw, and russians are too dumb to realise what they got themselves into.
Me? I got changes in my life, but nothing matters.

I could not think about myself in this year -- only about the war and it's outcome.
I'm sorry.