“In the end
You just repeat yourself again
When you don’t know who you are
You dig yourself the hole you’re in”
– Gotye, Dig Your Own Hole
I feel like shit.
I feel like the living embodiment of shit. I feel like how I’d imagine an asshole might feel if it gained sentience. I just keep on shitting everything up, and I can’t stop. But is it really my fault? If it’s in an asshole’s nature to be shitty, am I still to blame? Can I really hold myself accountable?
I came to the conclusion a long time ago that we are nothing more than the products of our environments, experiences, and biological lottery. If anything we’re 99% all of that and maybe like 1% freewill. So that being said, how can we honestly blame ourselves when that 99% beats that 1%? It’s basic statistics, people. Is it really my fault if I lose the game because I was dealt a shitty hand? Can I be held accountable for playing what I was given? Is it right for me to blame myself for something I have next to no control over? And yet…
And yet I do blame myself. Because it’s in my nature to do just that. And more than that, I know what I’m doing is wrong. I wasn’t programmed, wasn’t raised, to be okay with simply doing the wrong thing. Sometimes I even wish I could just do the wrong thing and be okay with it, because I’m convinced it’d be so much easier than this self-hatred. Knowing something is wrong and yet being powerless to stop yourself from doing it is the worst kind of suffering imaginable. It’s like you’re outside of yourself, watching on completely helpless as you fuck up again and again and again, just wishing you could do something but knowing you can’t. It’s the most vicious of cycles.
And just like this post, there is no conclusion, no revelation to be found at the end, no closure or comfort to be drawn from the light at the end of the tunnel. There is no light, no ending in sight. Because that’s the thing about cycles. They just keep going. Round and round and round it goes, if it’ll stop, nobody knows.