BottomlessPit
Staring at the edge
- Apr 28, 2021
- 423
Every belief I have about myself is the product of the chaotic echo chamber that is my isolated mind. There were some moments where the world gave me a hint about who I am and what I can do, but I always feel the need to reject those reflections, as if I knew better than everyone else. If I don't accept the judgments of other people, then I am responsible for my own evaluation. But these evaluations are necessarily tainted by my own biases, which are exacerbated and multiplied by my lack of contact with the real world. In the end, trying to define oneself is like a knife trying to cut itself, a task doomed to fail. All I am left with is the stress stemming from the uncertainty of not knowing whether I am full of shit or not.
