The Truth Is...

The truth is that I have no idea what I am doing. Seriously. Should I keep my ideas and private life to myself, or is it okay to share them online where anyone can basically read them. If I were to make my blog private, what would be the point? Who would read it then? Those 4 Estonians I know to do so? Idiotic. And wouldn't that go against the point of a blog, aren't they supposed to be for all eyes to see? Damn, another kind of an existential crisis. 

I am a person online. I have all the important social media platforms covered. I consider myself to be in the know, I can speak current. It's no problem for me to play Cards Against Humanity, because I get the references. And obviously there is some differences between the real world me and the virtual sarcastic me, who blogs about weird things. There are so many different sides to me, I wonder if  maybe I suffer from a disorder.

There's the "I'm so happy!" side, that makes me want to puke sometimes. No one should be that cheerful. Like ever. I smile and I joke and I seem to live on this planet without a care in the world. That is utter bullshit! No one could exist like that, especially not in my country. The wages are ridiculously small, everything is getting more and more expensive. I have to work about 180+ hours a month to live from paycheck to paycheck. No chances to save up some money and maybe treat myself to a nice holiday... Not going to happen. And yet, it seems as if I am the most content person I know. BULLSHIT!

And then there's the opposite "I'm angry and disappointed" me. She is the one who described the previous paragraph. She is actually the one who is writing this post. She's out to play today. Let's just say that when the patience of the cheerful idiot is strained to its limits, this one gets out and wants to play. Not nicely. The angry me likes to be alone, in silence and not talk to anyone. Especially not my mother, who I love very much, but who expects way too much of me. I might have fooled her into thinking I am above average with going to a private school and doing relatively well in university. I am totally okay with being average. I actually strive to be simply good old average. 

Aside from those two idiots, there is the OCD me. That one is a pain in the ass. Everything has to be perfectly organised. The books in the shelves in alphabetical order. The blanket on the bed has to be without any wrinkles. The food  supplies have to be in their correct places at all times. The chairs have to be under the table. There can't be anything crooked. The kitchen door must be open and the bedroom door must be closed. The bathroom door may be open, but that is only if it has been used. The toothpaste has to go back into its correct location. Everything has to be clean and sterile. Everything. If she were to get her way, my roommate would also be cleaned with Fairy or any other cleaning supply under my command. It is that bad sometimes.

She is constant battle with the other side: the lazy I don't feel like it me. And she is my least favourite side. She is so annoying and disrespectful. Her attitude and behaviour creates troubles and extra work for the OCD me. Why, oh why, couldn't she just put that damn shirt back in the closet? No, she must leave it out for the other one to clean up. And that produces the angry side to join forces with the OCD one. Those two together make quite a pair. Angry and loud music to company the violent cleaning - the best therapy out there for those delinquents. 

These four different sides are all battling against each other. They are tearing me apart. I wish I could live in quiet symbiosis. But no! And now they are battling the real me, pulling me in opposite directions: should I continue this useless voyage or should I find some better ways to fill my time and cure my chronic boredom. There are two possibilities. I will have to think about it. I guess You will find out soon, I either post again or I never post again.

R.