Tag: anhedonia
I don’t want to play the game of life
The most frustrating part is that there doesn’t really seem to be a real solution for this problem because every piece of advice people usually give is like, self-contained within the parameters of life if that makes sense, like every piece of advice people give still involves having to participate in life. Read the full page
SzPD – Playing life in hard mode
Reply to “Why is being schizoid bad?”:
r/Schizoid, u/melonpathy
I think being schizoid is like playing life in hard mode. You don’t belong but you have to play along. It’s tiresome to have to just observe human life, not being able to really participate, it’s like being forced to watch someone eat a delicious looking cake and not getting to taste it, ever. And despite not maybe always feeling like it, schizoids are human too. Humans are hard-wired to be social animals, it is in our genetics. Whether you enjoy socializing or not, it is good for your cognitive and even physical health.
And emotions are what motivates all action, whether you realize it or not. That’s the very purpose why we evolved to have emotions, to motivate us so we would survive. Avolition and anhedonia are destructive, they are a disturbance in the human drive to do things that are important, basically they hinder your ability to lead a good life. You also need motivation to do stuff like graduate and hold a job, which are needed for getting money, without which you cannot get insurances or anything else. Schizoids have the lowest life success rate of all personality disorders.
But of course some are more high functioning than others, basically some people here have the disorder and some have the personality type, I think. You have a personality disorder only when it causes suffering for you. If someone doesn’t mind their schizoid traits and they are able to function fairly well then it’s not a personality disorder but a personality style, and I’m speaking of the former here.
God handed me the fruits of his creation, then took my taste.
Reddit, u/Illustrious-Back-944 talking about anhedonia
Why is living a constant torture?
Rant on Reddit, with good comments. Read the full page
r/Pessimism, u/HumanAfterAll777
I think striving for happiness is like chasing the dragon
[…] When I was truly happy was when I was a child. When I was ignorant of the world and what horrors it contained. Something you can never go back to. […]
r/Pessimism, u/GloomInstance
There’s a moment when the intelligent empath, perhaps born with a melancholic bent, realises they are stuck in a kind of mortal reality show of endless suffering.
They look out at the sunset over a peaceful lake, only to see a pelican swoop down and grab up a fish, swallowing the fish whole as it visibly flaps around, trying to resist its awful fate.
Then the thinking empath reflects on how cruel and unfair the natural state of things is, and that they themselves are stuck inside the cruelty fishbowl and will most likely suffer their own grizzly decline.
I remember as a child of eight or nine years old, sitting in the bathtub weeping at how much suffering the world contains, and how little protection against it we have. It must have been when my first grasp on death and the nature of things occurred.
r/Pessimism, u/scorqio
One must know that things also become dull. Stale.
What i think will make me happy today, may not have that same impact next week.
Days go by without restraint.
One day is the time it takes to get bored of your new shiny toy.
So you then go back to either your life as a slave or your basic organic distractions.
Also see Fichte
Sex, drugs, food.
Being able to get pleasure from anything else requires an incredible and amazing nervous system and a decent amount of self-illusion.
Virtual reality and augmented reality have always been so much behind in the technological development. Today we are still so far behind that it’s downright ridiculous, albeit understandable: shit is hard to build. Continue reading
*Watching a scenery IRL*
Pia: It’s like something from a painting.
Davis: That’s because people paint landscapes.
Black Mirror S06E02 “Loch Henry”
When you have money, but you don’t know what to do with it, then the gravity of your being becomes immediately apparent.
As if through the mist Fading slow From this moment From this life
Of no fulfillment Of no discovery
Only the passing Only the flow…
Leaving from all That once had a meaning
To reach deep For the inner desolation
To awaken the emptiness That was always there Here, in the stillness A yearning For an ending
Shape of Despair – The Inner Desolation
The effect of feelings All lost their strength All lost their meaning
Sinking horizons Drowning the view
Shape of Despair – Forfeit
There is no magical third act
I just… I just cannot believe this is it. This is life. There is no magical third act where I am the star in some fantasy adventure. I won’t suddenly gain superpowers and fight cartoonish villains. This is it. This is all it will ever be. The rest of my life, quiet and drab. Our one shot at consciousness is spent on something so unimaginably boring. My curse of sentience is spent wageslaving, consuming media, messing around with hobbies that will never fill the void, shitting, cleaning. That’s all it will ever be. Sad and pathetic.
Popular chans’ meme/copypasta
As for music being a comforting thing in times such as these, I’m sure it is for those who aren’t too depressed to still enjoy it. But music can’t compare with alcohol or drugs, which directly affect one’s emotional state as opposed to music’s indirect effect through our sense of hearing and never fail to provide an escape. Like literature, music is just a harmless form of forgetting the world and doesn’t always work as well as we’d like.
Thomas Ligotti – The Damned Interviews, Tina Hall
It would be quite interesting to inhale rainbows.
You love playing with that. You love playing with all your stuffed animals. You love your mommy, your daddy, your nature pajamas. You love everything, don’t ya? Yeah. But you know what, buddy? As you get older… some of the things that you love might not seem so special anymore, you know? Like your jack-in-the-box. Maybe you’ll realize it’s just a piece of tin and a stuffed animal… And the older you get, the fewer things you really love. And by the time you get to my age, maybe it’s only one or two things. With me, I think it’s one.
The Hurt Locker – James speaking to his son
Old people, they look back at the good old days, and it was good because they were young. But they act like it was “the day”. No, it was ’cause youth is good: that’s gone, you’re fucked; it’s not the day. And then they reject anything that’s new, it’s like we do with fucking hip-hop, if you’re in your 30s: «Oh, fuck that, that ain’t music, we had music back when 38 Special was around…» What? No. Let’s all fucking kill ourselves for the hypocrisy, right?
Doug Stanhope – Deadbeat Hero
Nothing left to feel nor to understand.
Shape of Despair – …To Live for My Death…
Anyway, I can try anything, it’s the same circle leading to nowhere, and I’m tired now. Anyway, I’ve lost my face, my dignity, my look, everything is gone and I’m tired now. Don’t be scared: I’ve found a good job and I go to work every day on my old bicycle you loved.
I am piling up some unread books under my bed and I really think I’ll never read again. No concentration, just a white disorder everywhere around me, you know… I’m so tired now. Don’t worry: I often go to dinners and parties with some old friends who care for me, take me back home, and stay.
Monochrome floors, monochrome walls; only absence near me, nothing but silence around me. Monochrome flat, monochrome life; only absence near me, nothing but silence around me.
Sometimes I search an event or something to remind me, but I’ve really got nothing in mind. Sometimes I open the windows, I listen people walking in the down street; there is life out there.
Yann Tiersen – Monochrome (ft. Dominique A)
Satiety—I have just now uttered this word, and already I no longer know apropos of what, so readily does it apply to everything I feel and think, to everything I love and loathe, to satiety itself.
Emil Cioran – The Trouble With Being Born
The schizoid individual (and this applies still more to the schizophrenic) does not bask in the warmth of a loving self-regard. Self-scrutiny is quite improperly regarded as a form of narcissism. Neither the schizoid nor the schizophrenic is narcissistic in this sense. As a schizophrenic put it, she was scorched under the glare of a black sun. The schizoid individual exists under the black sun, the evil eye, of his own scrutiny. The glare of his awareness kills his spontaneity, his freshness; it destroys all joy. Everything withers under it. And yet he remains, although profoundly not narcissistic, compulsively preoccupied with the sustained observation of his own mental and/or bodily processes. In Federn’s language, cathects his ego-as-object with mortido (ed. the death drive).
A very similar point was made in different terms when it was said earlier that the schizoid individual depersonalizes his relationship with himself. That is to say, he turns the living spontaneity of his being into something dead and lifeless by inspecting it.
R. D. Laing – The Divided Self: An Existential Study in Sanity and Madness
For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.
Samuel Beckett, Molloy
Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness and dies by chance. Read the full page
Short Stories for a Year – The Wheelbarrow – Luigi Pirandello
When there’s someone around, I never look at her, but I feel that she’s looking at me, she’s looking at me without taking her eyes off me for a moment. I’d like to make her understand in private that it’s nothing, that she should relax, that I couldn’t allow myself to perform this brief act in front of others, that for her it’s of no importance, but for me it’s everything. I perform it every day at the right moment in utmost secrecy and with frightful joy because, trembling, I experience the delight of a divine, conscious madness that for an instant frees me and allows me to get even with everything. Read the full page
Life as a repetition of the same dull, insipid routine of insignificant actions of buttoning and unbuttoning, of sleeping and waking, of eating, and hunger returning, and these ditto, ditto repeated…
“On Life” by G. S. – “The Public Advertiser” of London