Disappointing vegan group
Recently, I’ve been rather disappointed in some of my fellow vegans, or perhaps it’s better to say that I’ve been disappointed in certain (Swedish) hangouts for vegans. Most people there, especially the more vocal ones, are only interested in allergies and food sensitivities. It’s their business of course, but they can become quite aggressive when they imagine they’re being questioned.
For now, I’ve decided to leave these troublespots alone and just hang out where I feel welcome. Though I must say it’s sad that we vegans can’t stick together.
Another thing that’s been very disappointing is that so many vegans go out of their way to ‘prove’ that vegans don’t have anything in common with each other. I think we do, even if we might have different reasons for going veg.
The whole thing started out with a girl asking if anyone else would like to find a village or some other place to live close to other vegans. Everyone, except my sister and I, seemed to despise that idea and went to great lengths to put it down.
I find it all depressing and discouraging. Personally, I’d love to have more vegan friends, preferably some who share some of my other interests and living close to them would be even better.
Disappointing books
Warning: Self-pity
Lately almost all the books I’ve read have been disappointments, at least to some extent. I can’t believe I’ve completely lost my judgment so I can only imagine that somehow the books (or their writers) or I have changed. It’s probably the latter. The me of today has changed too much. I’m sadder and more disillusioned. Maybe if I manage to pull myself together and straighten my life out, I’ll become more enthusiastic about books again. Don’t get me wrong, I still love books, I just don’t seem to feel as happy about them as I did, even three or four years ago.
I feel my life slipping away, slipping through my fingers, like in that awful biblical story I was told about in what the people who ran my daycare had instead of Sunday school (Saturday school?). It’s been haunting me ever since. You probably know it, if you’re familiar with the Bible.
A girl walks across a field. She’s to pick only the best grains, but every time she sees what she believes to be the best, she catches sight of others in the distance, that seem bigger and better. In the end, she’s walked across the field, her basket empty, and.she can’t go back.
What worries me is that even though I’m probably somewhere on the field still, knowing I need to harvest the grains, I can’t do it. There’s always something preventing me and I can’t stand still either, I keep moving ahead, in one sense, yet not moving at all, in another sense. It scares me.
I don’t know what to do and I suppose not liking the few books I can afford, is the least of my problems. It’s just that those books should be brightening my days and instead, they’re not. A waste of money, that could have been put to better use elsewhere. Oh, well. Sorry about all the self-pity.
Warning: self-pity
Lately almost all the books I’ve read have been disappointments, at least to some extent. I can’t believe I’ve completely lost my judgment so I can only imagine that somehow the books (or their writers) or I have changed. It’s probably the latter. The me of today has changed too much. I’m sadder and more disillusioned. Maybe if I manage to pull myself together and straighten my life out, I’ll become more enthusiastic about books again. Don’t get me wrong, I still love books, I just don’t seem to feel as happy about them as I did, even three or four years ago.
I feel my life slipping away, slipping through my fingers, like in that awful biblical story I was told about in what the people who ran my daycare had instead of Sunday school (Saturday school?). It’s been haunting me ever since. You probably know it, if you’re familiar with the Bible.
A girl walks across a field. She’s to pick only the best grains, but every time she sees what she believes to be the best, she catches sight of others in the distance, that seem bigger and better. In the end, she’s walked across the field, her basket empty, and.she can’t go back.
What worries me is that even though I’m probably somewhere on the field still, knowing I need to harvest the grains, I can’t do it. There’s always something preventing me and I can’t stand still either, I keep moving ahead, in one sense, yet not moving at all, in another sense. It scares me.
I don’t know what to do and I suppose not liking the few books I can afford, is the least of my problems. It’s just that those books should be brightening my days and instead, they’re not. A waste of money, that could have been put to better use elsewhere. Oh, well. Sorry about all the self-pity.
Life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone
My life is over. No, I’m not dead or even dying, at least not any more than we, all of us, are from the time we’re born. In fact, using some definition of ‘life’ I might be around for a very long time more. Unfortunately, in my family, we tend to have very long ‘lives’.
What I mean is, any hope I ever had of deriving any pleasure from life is gone. I should have seen it sooner, really. Like the smart little frog, I should have seen where this was going and given up and drowned. The stupid frog wins, someone saves him. No one’s going to save me and frankly, I wouldn’t want anyone else to save me. If I can’t save myself, I don’t want to be saved. And I can’t. So, like I said. It’s over.
You might ask what’s changed since last night. Well, in a way, a lot of things have changed. It seems I will probably be stuck in this hell hole where I ‘live’ for – well, for as long as I ‘live’. My one chance of getting out of here just vanished. I can’t tell you exactly what happened, because it’s still too painful. I don’t even know the full circumstances yet. Chances are, I won’t want to know.
Secondly, I had some other bad news. I can’t tell you what that is either. You probably wouldn’t understand, but it was the one thing I still had left to hope for, other than getting out of here.
It’s time I face the facts. I’ll never succeed in anything I try. I should have known sooner. I’ve been failing for more years than I like to remember. The truth is, I’ve never succeeded at anything after I left school.
Time to give up. Time to stop trying. Why should I set myself up for disappointment, when it’s clear that nothing is ever going to work out? Each time I allow myself to hope, those hopes are crushed, sooner or later.
This time I should be smart and stop. Stop trying, stop hoping, stop hurting. Except that last one won’t be possible. When I look at others around me the inevitable comparisons are going to show up. Why is she such a success when I’m not?
Of course, I only have myself to blame. I was born this way. Set up for failure from the time I was born. I’ve tried as hard as I’ve been able to try. As hard as someone like me is capable of. What a cruel joke.
I read somewhere that we, humanity, Earth, the universe, might just be one big simulation, created by some beings far more powerful than we are. In that case, i can only conclude that they did it out of spite. Doesn’t everything seem like one big cruel, sadistic joke? To me it does.
So this is it. TIme to get smart. Time to finally learn from my life and take the consequences. Maybe it will hurt a little less if I stop trying.
