Why Do I Dwell?

Out of a lack of self-control, I suppose, I spend far too long analyzing the snippets of others' lives that are available to be ogled at online. I come up short, continually: I feel unintelligent (for I feel I have not portrayed myself as such adequately), quite unwomanly (which is, more or less, true), unattractive, not quite able to be "fun" (which, as I age, comes to mean more and more that I refuse intoxicants and some of the more self-serving, useless pastimes), and, generally speaking, an all-around stick in the mud sort of hermit.

This phenomena, I know, is not limited to me. I see it in action subtly in other's conduct and words. Pop psychology has also mentioned it. Something about living our lives online makes even the most popular of us, it seems, feel as if we are in need of more attention and more reverence for being unique. I am not popular and never have been. Mostly, I don't want to be popular- too many negative trade-offs would have to be made and, frankly, I don't have the energy to invest heavily in shallow friendships. Yet I wish I were seen as beautiful, smart, and creative... Selfishness makes me desire such things, I know... There are higher ideals to be strove towards, and I would do well to concentrate on such things instead of my own rather unalterable traits.

Dare I Persue Myself?

I haven't posted in a while because my very essence seems to have gone AWOL.

It's strange that a human can live- very easily, I might add- while the heart of them is lost somewhere and forgotten, nice and proper. I used to know exactly who I was- evil and all- while everyone around me grasped for a cover to their naked psyche in conformity. Now, I have somehow shoved "me"- in all it's purity and depravity- aside...

It sickens me; it causes me a great deal of worry, but I cannot feel the full extent of the sorrow behind it because my "self"- from which all deep emotions spring- is buried. I should be crying out in agony and clawing for me, for my hope, for my relationship with God.. And I want to.. But I know it will come in a rude awakening; the storm has not yet surged; I will find peace only after hardship. But what affliction is next? Why can I not learn from these mental exercises I undergo and have underwent? Instead, I have to face manifestations of the same horrors over and over. I wish I would be wise and grasp the message. I need again to grasp hope so as not to dread the surely imminent pains of living, but hope can only be grasped by one's true self and my true self has been shoved aside in order to avoid aforementioned pains of living. Aye aye aye..
It's an enigma, and for now, I laugh at it. But I shall eat my light-heartedness and much else before I recover.