ZYCERAK UPDATE:
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I'm SOO stressed right now. I've got SOO much work I need to do. Looks like I'll have to stay up ALL NIGHT tonight. Sigh... I had ALL weekend but I wasted it ALL. That's just what it's like being a procrastinator. I know I should do something but I still wait for the LAST MINUTE. Yup, I do this to myself. I'm tweaking! I'm tweaking! Sigh... something MUST be wrong with me. Do you think I have ADHD? Anxiety? Depression? Some personality disorders? Well whatever it doesn't matter anyways. I'll just stay up ALL NIGHT and thug it out. Oh man I'm not going to get ANY sleep tonight. Maybe 2, 3 hours. How many hours did you get? 8? 9? Well whatever it doesn't matter. Sigh... well, I guess I better get to work.
I just spend the last 20 minutes typing something, and then I deleted it all because I didn't want to say it anymore
In fact, last I remember, it was 9:00pm, and now it is 9:43pm. What happened to those 43 minutes?
The same thoughts and memories cycle through my head, I attempt to write about them but realize I have likely already said them, but I don't remember
Deleted some more text, now I am just not sure what I want to say.
Maybe that I am scared my negativity is deeply entrenched in my personality. All of the memories I immediately recall are negative, and that creates a fatalist perception of my life. I have known I romanticize or glorify the negativity within me for a long time. When I was 11 I started to create a negative empire in my mind, castles of doom protected by walls of isolation and moats of self-loathing. It started when I had kicked my friend in a fit of anger, I had hurt him and he swore at me (f-word). I stayed up very late that night, panicking and worrying, I thought I had broken his hand. I thought about doing some very bad things to myself that night so I could show up to school with worse injuries than him as repentance, and so that everyone wouldn't get so mad at me. Then I thought that was pretty selfish and I was a bad person for trying to deflect consequences of my actions. Despite a night of dread, despair, and self-loathing, he pulled up the next day all friendly like nothing ever happened. Have I told this befr=ore? Most likely
There is no possibility he remembered that day even though I remember it so vividly. I felt very stupid but I did not really learn much. I think that was a pivotal day in my psychology, I thought about it for a long time and still do despite how small and insignificant it was; it felt significant, like I had just killed someone. It was the day I really started to loathe myself and signified a worsening trend, stewing in my own negativity until it was all-consuming. Nothing bad has ever happened to me, so my mind has to take these insignificant moments and make them into something I can really ruminate over. Kind of like a pet dog scared about a vacuum. Dogs are supposed to be scared of bigger threats in the wild, but now domesticated in a cozy house where there's no actual threat, the rumble of a vacuum will feel like life-or-death. Humans are a lot closer to other animals than we think, we still got our old brain and crud. Animal brain and crud. Lab rats, pet dogs, humans, monkeys, all the same. Whatever
As I aged a bit more and started to withdraw more and less things happened, the negativity became meta and I was feeling bad about feeling bad. I'd lay in bed crying all day imagining that I had let down everyone I love, and that my life was over. I couldn't understand why I made myself so sad for no reason; I knew I had more than anyone could ask for. I felt so guilty for feeling so sad over nothing and wished I could trade my life with anyone; I didn't deserve this life and my friends and family didn't deserve someone like me. Then I felt guilty for feeling guilty, and for knowing these things and not changing still
I thought it was in my genetic code to never be happy and I just got unlucky being born. Then I learned about neural plasticity and thought I had made myself so sad on purpose for attention. I was, and still remain an uninteresting person. I felt my negativity and pessimism made people think I had real things going on, and made people think I was deep, and a thinker, and a sad, broken, sensitive young man. I thought it gave me aura. Online, by the way, not in real life, I never talked to anyone in real life. I never actually thought these things either, and never attempted to make myself sad on purpose. I thought I thought these things. I thought I lived my life and made myself miserable for little hits of attention from strangers online
Then I thought it was the internets fault, and an unqualified lady on TikTok reminded me of this today. She said kids these days are fed a constant stream of dopamine from when they were born, and without that dopamine they go through withdrawal, making them extra sensitive. Well I was heavily addicted to the internet since I was 5 so this lined up. I still am. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without the internet, but I liked to fantasize a lot that it would have been way better. I still feel this way but it makes me sad and I will never get any d

vers so I don't think about it.
By grade 12 I was so fed up with myself I knew I needed university as a fresh start and put a lot of pressure on myself to succeed socially and academically. And it worked, my first year of university I pushed through fear and anxiety, made some friends, felt on top of the world. At 18 I got on medication and for the first time in my life I was able to go outside without feeling the symptoms of anxiety. The physical symptoms went away within weeks, and I was finally able to fall asleep in a reasonable amount of time. I started smoking flowers, took shrooms, took molly; I was beyond elated, felt happier than I could have ever conceived. From lowest lows to highest highs, I felt unstoppable. Especially after taking molly I thought I could never be sad again, like I passed a certain mental threshold of no return and I could never feel bad again.
Unfortunately the drug-taking happened to coincide with the peak of my life, so I never quit smoking flowers because I wanted it to last forever. I think the flowers addiction and staying on medications and just not being able to keep the momentum and progress going led to a second decline. I was not improving as fast as I wanted to, not working as hard as I wanted to, I started losing interest in what I was doing again, I was so disappointed in myself for being unable to quit smoking, and existential fear and worry started to build again.
That brings me back to today, and this past semester. Started freaking out over my research project, realized it was easier than I thought, did a little bit of work, got too comfortable and started procrastinating heavy again, and now I am freaking out again. 10:41pm now on a very unproductive weekend where I have not accomplished any of my weekend goals. Still would rather waste my time writing about a whole lot of nothing no one cares about instead of doing my friggin work. Have I really been at this for over an hour? I tell myself writing like this is productive. Therapeutic or something. Taps into crud much more important than crummy school work. Sunday night brings out the beast in me. I wonder how many of these I have written Sunday night. At least I have been off flowers for a few weeks and have started taking meds again which I think makes me tweak less. I plan to stay up still. Maybe I will work hard during the week. I need to. If I don't finish my paper by the end of next weekend I am FINISHED, I will be executed.
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Tl;dr: Wah wah wah I am lazy and not doing my work wah wah wah I am complaining I am sad but wait what's this there's a happy little hustler inside ready to bust out and thrive. Whatevr. Read one Zycerak Update and you have read them all
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