Exploring Creativity and Struggles

Last night, after finishing Mourning Reflections, I lay on my bed and pondered over a great deal of things. This cartoon has a lingering flavor, both its story and art are extremely mature, like polished gemstones that make me think about why I didnt pay more attention to such comics in the past when I was bored.

Since my work hasnt received any positive feedback for quite some time now, besides being crushed by my hard work every day, I feel nothing else. Because of all these years worthless efforts, so I turned off the feedback system in my job; however, since my inner desire has to be satisfied somewhere else as well. Therefore, after finishing work each evening before going to sleep, I would seek some things that would make me happy or give meaning to myself, but unfortunately, nothing was found. I dont know what to do anymore. I wish to talk with someone. During this period, I have learned a lot of things and done many intellectual games, which are interesting though they come from my mind rather than my soul. I feel that in the future, real artificial intelligence would surpass me. My soul has never been satisfied; it is still agitated and uneasy.

Though I require high entertainment standards, yet I lack the stamina to finish a thing once started. Many comics, anime, novels are only half-read before being put aside, without any significant progress. On one hand, maybe all my energy was consumed by work these days, on the other hand, my anxiety has closed off my inner world, and refused to accept any new stimulation; it shows its immaturity in rejecting new things. In fact, I have collected a lot of excellent works in my notes, like a hamster collecting stuff, but when rest time comes, even that I dont bother to open them up anymore. I only read some works I already know so well and eat the trash online. It is addictive, with an . I call it spiritual junk dependency.

I have talked about changing this bad habit of mine before; such a bad habit isnt just because it wastes time or lacks meaning, fundamentally, meaning is my own limitation in terms of myself. I dont want to continue doing this anymore because the good artistic works can make me happy and my spirit needs continuous exposure to fresh stimuli exclusively. Boredom has eaten up my ability to receive new ideas. Now I feel that human nature is unchangeable, after trying so many times yet never succeeded in changing myself, another realization would only add more humor to my understanding of myself, since fallacy is my nature. However, even though I am such a person, I keep on repeating against death like . This is an endless effort, but without persisting maybe I will die. I fear that falling into the abyss of self-destruction because of my lack of willpower and the idea that sin has no bounds. My soul is like wind, just floating in a state of turmoil.