</angst>

A mood-dampening realization.

I wanted to be surrounded by interesting people. Intelligent people. Incredible people.
I got my wish.

I guess I never really thought about what that entailed for my own identity. I used to be quite different from the people around me, fairly intelligent, moderately talented, good at learning new things, critically evaluative, aloof to the point of being considered enigmatic or eccentric, well-read and ambitious, in an unfocused sort of way.

The people around me now share many, if not most of these qualities, and I appreciate it.
What it means though, is that I can no longer use these qualities to try to define what I am.
As if it wasn't hard enough already- I can barely understand my own actions most of the time. I used to solve the problem of 'who' by describing 'what' I am, and that used to work. Now I'm just a big blank space.
I don't even know if I have a personality- apart from in the broadest definition of the word. It can't be very interesting.
After all that study and turmoil and hard work, I'm back where I was 5 years ago.

Above average student in a decent institution. Whoop tee dee.

It's been interesting- I've learnt a lot that I wouldn't otherwise... but at the same time it seems like I've grown complacent.

I still have nothing to live for- no goal, no real passion. My grades are forgettable, and I've no real motivation to study... I'm not devoting time to my hobbies, watching random movies instead... I don't want to drink, I don't want to lose myself to some kind of chemical 'happiness', I don't dream, I don't have a career plan- nothing tangible that I want to achieve. I'm counting days till the next exam, that's all.

Speaking of counting days... how long has it been? I haven't even had a pitiable shadow of a love life for 18 months... nothing's gonna change till the 2 year mark, it seems. Not even a crush to keep me distracted, how sad is that?

I still don't have it in me to ask a girl out only to have her reject me outright, and I'm still not interested in the kind of girls that are interested in me.
I really can understand now how it's easier to care less... you minimize your recovery time and maximize trial frequency, how a bastard like me came to believe in the importance of this psychosexual disorder called 'love' is a mystery that really, I've no chance of figuring out. Maybe it's a genetic predisposition.

I think less. I write less. I draw less.

I AM less.

I create less, I consume more.

How am I supposed to impress people when I don't impress myself... it's an exercise in futility right?
I guess that's where I've decided to start. Baby steps.