Thread by @SylvetteSylveon, What's the point of hobbies? It feels impossible to keep one up. [...]

What& #39;s the point of hobbies? It feels impossible to keep one up. In order to get good at anything, you have to spend multiple years of your life consistently working at it, and risk losing all interest in it by the end of that time and having wasted the time spent.

If you love something but keep doing it until you realize you lost all will to love it, did you ever really love it? If you love something but hate the process of doing it over and over, excruciatingly improving from bad to only mediocre, could you ever really love it?

I honestly feel like I& #39;m at a roadblock in my life. I no longer enjoy the things that used to bring me happiness. Everything I want to try that I think could bring me happiness is too excruciatingly painful to learn that even just trying makes me want to curl into a ball and cry.

I look around at my friend groups and see people exactly like me, in the same exact troubles, and the fact that I& #39;m not alone in this brings me absolutely no comfort at all.

I know so many people, people whose self-confidence is waning or in some cases depleted, people who I& #39;m more confident in than I am in myself, people who I know can do great things, people who I truly, deeply, believe in, yet they can& #39;t believe in themselves, and that ruins me.

The main reason I& #39;ve done anything is because I had one goal in mind. I wanted to make others happy. But as I tried, I realized a few character flaws of my own. I can never get things done. When I do get them done, they& #39;re half-assed. Every major project begun was never finished.

I burnt out way too easily on everything I wanted to do. Every moment I was wasting my time, I guilted myself for it, but the guilt and stress made me want to do necessities less. Thus I was stuck in a feedback loop in which these feelings built up and I did nothing about them.

I let people down too much. I can never get things going, and because of that, I never finish anything, which just wastes the time of the people involved. I never do these to have fun making them, I do these for the prospect of having fun making them.

Over the course of my entire life I& #39;ve finished two major projects ever. Both of them I was proud of at the time. One of them was well over a year ago, and the confidence boost it gave me was extraordinary. Those who had participated and spectated had, for the most part, enjoyed.

There was also a lot of criticism though, and it& #39;s impossible to say none of it was fair. I took it all to heart and worked to improve it in my next projects. I had a lot of fun working on and off on the next, fairly confident in my abilities as an editor.

The response I had gotten for the second project was next to nothing. There was no confidence boosters, no criticism, absolutely nothing. It& #39;s fair to say not everything can succeed, but even if you waive procrastination, it& #39;s still about a hundred hours of work wasted.

I& #39;d rather be told I fucked up horrendously than be told nothing at all, I& #39;ve learned. At least the former involves improvement and self-evaluation, even if slight. The latter... is just nothing. I know I should create things for my own enjoyment but that& #39;s never how it& #39;s been.

I& #39;ve never finished a personal project. I& #39;ve only ever created them for others, because the stress of disappointing other people is worse than disappointing myself. I pretended I did this selflessly but I was just masking a selfish motive to others and to myself validation.

But I can& #39;t feed myself off of the validation of other people. Rather, the prospect of that fed off of me instead. My already poor mental state slowly worsened over time, and I couldn& #39;t bear do anything anymore. I slowly developed a creative block and still to this day have it.

I& #39;ve known this was happening to me the whole time and yet I just accepted it. I made myself a bunch of empty promises to soothe myself when I broke down yet carried on down a slippery slope of demotivation, all the while witnessing the exact same thing happening to my friends.

I think that& #39;s really what killed me in the end. As long as I told myself things were improving, it wouldn& #39;t matter to me whether or not they actually were. I& #39;m too scared to be honest with myself, hell, you can tell how needlessly vague I am within this damn thread itself.

There is really no point to writing this thread. No matter what promises I make myself they& #39;ll always be like the last ones: empty. No-one but myself can really help me but my mindset makes it impossible for me to fix myself, and saying this is feeding into that mindset as well.

I suppose I just needed to express this somewhere? I& #39;ve had my feelings bottled up for a while and they& #39;ve only grown further repressed by the kind words of others guilting me further. Probably very little of this was coherent. Either way I& #39;m done rambling now.

It& #39;s not enough to love the unreal
I am inseparable from the impossible
I want gravity to stop for me
My soul yearns for a fugitive from the laws of nature
I want a cut scene
I want a cut from your face to my face
I want a cut I want
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