I’m trying to do things for the aesthetic. Meaning, I’m leaning into maladaptive daydreaming to get things done. Pretending I’m a character in an anime or movie makes life more digestable I I tend to have a really hard time living life through first person view, but there are things that can help.
Like as the questions “who am I,” and “where am I.”
I am me. I exist in this body. I take pride in the way I express my love. I am proud that I am trying to find my way. I love that I care, so deeply, about many many things. I have untapped creative potential, begging to be unleashed.
I am afraid of failure. Afraid to be alone. Afraid of being seen, or not being seen. Of being too much or not enough. The things that are part of the universal human experience, I’m sure.
I am here. In my room, laying in bed. My sheets are always covered in cat hair, but I’m cozy nonetheless. I’m surrounded by things that I love, like a plant pot shaped like boobs and a wooden pipe shaped like a vag. Happy pride btw.
Right now, as I lay in bed, the sun has only just begun to rise. It’s cloudy. The whole sky is painted the same pale grey, not a single blemish to be found.
Days like these make me want to sip warm tea and read a book. Or do as I’m doing now and writing on Tumblr. It makes me feel nostalgic for a life I’ve never fully lived.
You see, I want so deeply to live in the woods. Perhaps it was growing up in the midwest and camping every summer that makes me feel this way. Or perhaps I should blame the critically acclaimed cult classic, Twilight. Either way, there’s something alluring about the fog. The cold morning dew. The smell of fresh earth. It calls to me.
I was always happiest on those summer camping trips. Eating food over the fire, riding my bike on mountain trails, going to small corner shops, catching crawfish in a stream, well...it doesn’t get more nostalgic than that.
Now, I live in a big city. Sure, I can see the downtown skyline out of my bedroom window. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m just not sure that living here will ever truly feel like home to me.
Not with the constant soundtrack of planes, emergency vehicle sirens, and incredibly loud trucks and motorcycles. Not when the only tree in my yard is an overgrown useless palm tree.
But I digress; let’s get back to the topic at hand, “for the aesthetic.”
It helped me a bit yesterday, just to get through some chores. It’s rather hard to live life in an aesthetically pleasing way when your house is in such a terrible state, it’s borderline unsanitary.
I developed piss poor habits and even worse coping mechanisms during the 2020 lockdown. Habits and coping mechanisms that are incredibly difficult to shake. But holy forking shirtballs, I’m nearly 30. I’m too old to not take care of myself. No one is going to do it for me.
So I have to trick myself. I have to daydream and pretend I live a life that I don’t. And maybe one day, I’ll find joy in the present, wherever I am.
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