A Story of a Pack

Yesterday, I got the idea to biject my misery to a pack of cigarettes. I got the pack and decided to use each cigarette to explore my emotions. However, things have changed a bit since I woke up, or have they?

(I) Breaking the Routine

I barely slept when I woke up to my roommate screaming Emergency. I thought he may have failed a course or caught lacking. However, he proceeded to tell me that he is forced to go to a psychiatric resort. While this can be considered weird, it wasn't my first time having a friend go to such a place 'spot a pattern?' Thus, he got his pack, and we went there to check him in. You can consider this an event but it was an average weekday.

When we reached our destination, I was, for some reason, not allowed to go out, and the resort was in the middle of nowhere. So, I made the ambulance driver get me a Marlboro Red pack. After 2 hours, the fucker returned with a blue LM; trying to destroy my plans for the post. But I insisted we go and fight with some security until I finally could go out and get my pack of Marlboro with an extra cig for my depressed roommate.

After a day that was mainly tough due to the little sleep, we proceeded to smoke a cigarette and reflected on how fucked up society is. Then, he checked in, and I left.

(II)

Time to smoke the second cigarette. Actually, things got a bit fucked up. Here am I a month after the first cigarette. This does not mean I did not smoke, it would have been profitable though. However, my smoking rate surpassed my writing speed (around 90 WPM) which destroyed the primary goal of writing this post by minimizing the reflection section. I have no idea how the past month has passed. The same way I feel about the past few years. Time is no longer as valuable or as memorable. While this can be logically interpreted easily by comparing the order of magnitude of my perception of years of knowledge over those years. In other words, ten years ago, I was around 10 years old. I had approximately five or six years of full self-consciousness, with a continuous hunger for information. I had a six-year worth of data, and that was all I had. However, now, I have accumulated around sixteen years of knowledge and information. In order to equalize the time spent for this accumulation, I will have to do an extra sixteen years of information gathering rather than the six needed for the 10 yo kid.

However, fuck logical interpretations. My life has become the exact thing I was thriving not to be; a routine. Also, unfortunately, it is not a routine that I'd accept. I would usually be comfortable with a healthy routine that acts as filler episodes between the arcs of my life, accompanied by a final noticeable improvement. Discipline is usually what yields the most outcome compared to relying on motivation. I'd have loved such a routine. This is not the case; the current routine is just a three-meter rope hanging from the ceiling with me staring at it for the whole day, questioning whether I should use it.

(III)

I have always hated smoking. You either smoke cigarettes or hookah and fuck up your body or use those electronic stuff and walk looking like a sissy No shame for sissies ;) However, stress is inevitable. Especially when I seek glory with zero work. I have to continuously cram up to keep up with my unrealistic standards compared to my effort rate. Thus, I look for those anti-stress chemicals that my brain secretes in order to be able to not lose my shit while doing a year's worth of work in a night. My best source would be cannabinoids or an orgasm. However, one is expensive, and the other causes multiple problems or both are both, really. Thus, nicotine was considered good enough for its task. I had to use it since it was either that or my inferior superior persona would sentence me to death because of how pathetic I am. So, let's fuck the body up in order to keep up with maintaining my broken social life, pale academic life, and lusty Casanova life.

🚬

(IV)

I was excessively smoking for years because of endless insomnia. Now, I have to quit since my throat is sore as shit. I will have to learn a new way to sleep.

(V)

I think being in a quiet and shit-free space that provides you with the basic needs grants you mental peace. However, in my case, it just emphasizes the mess. It provides me with clarity. Unfortunately, when the mess is more explicit, the fucked up parts become more real. Not sure if it is the fear from a sear matrix. Avoiding my dear, looking to shear a new cervix. I ain't a role model, don't try to mimic. Wish I had never entered the tunnel. I thought it was systemic. Yeah, I transformed into a version u may not like, but it was inevitable. I have to see my image clear in the mirror and look affectable, like now. Like now? is it?

[Silently adds "rapper" to possible careers]

(VI)

So when I say that I'm alone, do you know the feeling?

When I say the game's over, do you know the meaning?

I mean that I don't have the time for this

I need a girl but same time there's no time for them

I got people inside and I don't write to them

It's like I don't feel pain no more

I can't do journeys on a train no more

Can't shed a tear writing on a page no more

I don't wanna play games no more

I don't want my friends on a case no more

And trust me, I don't want a war on the ends

But it's like you wanna start it so say no more

I'm too big for this nonsense, I don't need problems

I got a lot of love for everyone that checks for me

And a lot of love for certain girls sexually

Texting me, saying that she slept on me

And definitely wishes that she slept with me

(VII)

You know imposter syndrome? It involves feelings of self-doubt and personal incompetence that persist despite your skills. I don't have it. I actually believe in my skills to the extreme. However, this belief is not always fruitful. It is okay to sometimes feel you suck. Recognizing the times when you suck is a talent. However, I lack such talent. Everything is easy for me, or I have not spent time trying to excel. While this is true, in any field where I exert a specific amount of effort, I usually surpass anyone who exerted an equivalent amount. But that internalization of the idea that I am a fucking god gets me quickly to the tedious phase. This is why I have never extremely excelled towards the top in a field; I exerted an amount of effort that asserted my initial point of view for myself. Thus, I do not see a use for keeping up, and I just quit.

This is not only for academia or career stuff; this is, for me, is generalized to everything. I wanted myself to believe that I could excel academically easily after a disastrous start in high school (due to my laziness and uninspiring material), done 4.0 GPA after 2 years in college with an offer from med school (I could have easily gotten into Harvard if I tried though). Hookups, easy, I had enough ones with 10s for the sake of affirmation. Financial liberty? Been there since the 9th grade, when I made thousands off freelancing for the sake of affirmation. You can easily apply this to literally anything I have pulled off in the past few years and would be pulling in my remaining years. Sadly, this all yielded one final outcome; boredom and withdrawal. You see now why I lost interest in emotions. You see how I no longer give a shit about company. You see the aftermath of having does this have a name, though? Let's call it Retsopmi syndrome Restopmi syndrome.

TL;DR

Retsopmi Syndrome: Believing too much in your skills that you skip doing the whole thing, assuming the existence capability leading to a continuous roller coaster of apathy and lethargy.

(VIII)

I know everything

I know everything, know myself

I know morality, spirituality, good and bad health

I know fatality might haunt you

I know everything

I know Compton, I know street shit, I know shit that's conscious

I know everything, I know lawyers, advertisement and sponsors

I know wisdom, I know bad religion, I know good karma

I know everything, I know history

I know the universe works mentally

I know the perks of bullshit isn't meant for me

I know everything, I know cars, clothes, hoes, and money

I know loyalty, I know respect, I know those that's ornery

I know everything, the highs, the lows, the groupies, the junkies

I know if I'm generous at heart, I don't need recognition

The way I'm rewarded—well, that's God's decision

I know you know that line's for Compton School District

Just give it to the kids, don’t gossip 'bout how it was distributed

I know how people work

I know the price of life, I'm knowin' how much it’s worth

I know what I know, and I know it well not to ever forget

Until I realized I didn’t know shit, the day I came home

(IX)

Sorry this part does not have a translation, you can safely skip it though it's bullshit

بقالي كتير فشخ مكتبتش بالعربي. اللي يعرفني من زمان اكيد فاكر ايام ماكنت بكتب سكريبتس علي فيسبوك قبل التخلص من المنصة بنت القحبة دي. التعامل في الجامعة حالياً مخلي نادراََ أما بحتاج أكتب بالعربي إن مكانش منعدم. للأسف في الوقت الحالي معظم أبناء الطبقات العليا تعرضهم للغة العربية بيقل و تعرضهم للغات قد تظهر لي خره زي الفرانكو و ما شابه زاد، جايز أكون غلط و تطلع دي لغة المستقبل ولا حاجه بس لو كدا فـ أحا يعني مش عايزها. المهم يعني من أسوء سمات الإنسان ككائن هي ضعفه الجسدي. ضعفه الجسدي زي ماتكلمت كتير هو سبب احتياجه المتواصل لصحبة بنفس الشكل اللي احتياجه الحيواني للتكاثر هو اللي بيخليه بيدور على خليل يقضي معاه حياته يكملوا الجنس ابن العرص ده. و للأسف في الوقت الحالي الجسد البشري ملحقش يواكب التطور التكنولوجي و يقتنع ان مش لازم يبقى معاك مجموعه عشان الاسد مينهشش لحمكم، و على الأغلب الموضوع دا مكمل لحد ما اموت يعني فا هضطر أتاقلم أوأقنع جسدي يتاقلم مع الموضوع بشكل أو بآخر. بس فيه مشكلة للأسف، الإنسان بطبعه خول. لا ألوم أي شخص على خولنته بل بالعكس هو بيعمل بفطرته كالمغتصب بالظبط. التعامل مع الناس يجب أن يُحلَى بالكثير من التعديلات لتجنب الوحدة. فانت كإنسان قدامك اختيار من اتنين، تلتزم بالتحولات دي و ده مش هيبقى مشكلة لو طبعك التلقائي متلائم مع هذه التحولات، لو لا، يبقي للاسف هتضطر تعيش ورا قناع يرضي الناس، و في الأغلب دي الحالة اللي هتضطر تخش فيها. تعيش في شخصية مش بتاعتك لمجرد انك ترضي احتياج مخك للناس، ملعون العلوقية بتاعت التطور والله. من آلاف الأشخاص اللي اتعاملت معاهم في حياتي، قد يكون قلة قليلة لا تُعَد على أكثر من الأصابع التي تقبل بطبعي التلقائي و تراه ملائم للوجود الدائم. عشان كده أنا قدامي حل من حلين، الإنصياغ لرغبة الجسد في تغيير الشخصية لإرضاء البعض من الحثالات العشوائية في المجتمع، او تـ كس أم الناس و تعيش براحتك.

(X)

I know a pack of cigarettes consists of 20 cigs, but fuck smoking; I decided to quit. I won't even complete the metaphorical pack. These are just some random different chains of thoughts that I felt pressured by my own internal dialogue to let out for some reason, he knows why I bet.

Let's hope I can overcome the absurd depression and unnecessary suicidal thoughts. Also, let's wish the Google HR currently visiting that personal project does not dismiss my application because of how fucked up I am. I am still smart as fuck, and I'll extraordinary benefit you. I'll leave a 2 weeks notice of leave before suiciding.

Also, happy birthday to me! Even though I spent it sick as fuck and barely ate some leftover noodles from yesterday. I wanted to suicide at 8:39 PM since the number of seconds and number of minutes I have lived would have been a palindrome, but I missed it by a minute so the blow will have to wait!

Good bye! Here is the random playlist I have on repeat right now: