Kant is a Cunt
I'm essentially depressed when I'm not high. So I try to stay high all of the time. But it's difficult balancing that with being a stay-at-home-dad. I'm off of 80 mg of edibles right now and it's still not enough. Never will be. Because there's something wrong with my brain. I'm at war with my brain and I always have been. And therefore then I am also at war with the world.
We interact with mere phantasms, presentations, not things-in-themself, but if the lens of our cognition is cracked or smudged what then? If we have a by-default-distorted cognitive lens through which we're producing these presentations, if what we see in the looking glass is already warped and obscured in some way by the mere fact of us thinking, how further are the pictures we see distorted by mental illness? These cunts on the continent didn't account for that in their writing. There's a gap in the discourse, or maybe I'm just underread.
I'm high right now. I feel ill all of the time. I'm at my parents' home. My wife and child are here. I'm beyond blessed and yet it feels like my world is crumbling. The tough thing with mental illness is that you get blind to your own bullshit. I always have felt like my life is on the brink of disaster. I'm like a frog in a boiling pot of water. I'm so inured to my own fucked up way of thinking and anxiety and negativity and cyclical thinking that I don't even think of it as dysfunctional anymore. Like doesn't everyone feel hopeless? If you stay in the red zone long enough it becomes your norm. Not great for the nervous system but it shows you how adaptable we are. Somehow I'm still fucking alive, and I'm even married with a kid even though I'm a complete fucking lunatic with poor emotional regulation.
But more to the point how can anyone not feel hopeless right now on some level, or at least low on morale? I hardly read the news these days and I know we're cooked. I can feel it. But I guess a broken clock is right sometimes - these are dire times we find ourselves in, so my default mode of desperation and anxiety is conveniently apropos. Has been quite frankly since COVID dropped.
And I'm not saying it's not important to act. We must act. We are, unfortunately, condemned to act. Which is a real problem because I hate acting. I hate doing shit. If I could just sit around and cogitate and read books and do calisthenics all day I would. I was going to say masturbate as well but I'm trying to do less of that. But we must do shit. We must make decisions.
But I've felt like my whole life I've been trying to make decisions based on what I think I ought to do versus what I really want to do, but how the fuck would I know what I really want anyway? I am a mystery to myself. We are all mysteries to ourselves, and I just feel like we should act accordingly.