When am interacting with people I am one of the most cheerful, supportive, kind, understanding, optimistic and positive people you will ever meet. Interacting with someone activates my positivity centers. UNLESS that person is really close to me and is allowed to see my negative self. Ask my wife.

When am alone it’s all negativity. I see people who have made life on this planet a living hell. I see superficiality, overworked, zonked, uncreative worker bees looking for their next little dopamine hit. With the difference that real bees are beautiful.

Am actively preventing myself from turning to my regular drugs. War documentaries, sad stories, cruel stories, the worst things humans have done. I know it’s acid that has already burned huge holes into my soul, yet it also calms me down.

As if my positive side scares me and needs to be suppressed by soaking up negativity.

Just like with binge eating I then reach a point where I have been so bludgeoned with heart wrenching stories of misery that a calmness falls over me and I can sleep.

Positivity makes me restless. It fills me with hunger. It gives me an appetite that I am sure this world cannot satisfy. Me and my needs are incompatible with this world.

Negativity distracts me from all my dashed hopes and dreams. Like a comfy blanket. It also diminishes them, because those very real horror stories are worse than what I have been through.

I realize it’s sick to do this and to keep doing this. It’s a slow form of suicide. Suicide by knowing about humanity’s failures in all possible gut stomping detail.

Reluctantly allowing some positivity in I have discovered some dude’s YouTube channel. He has such a genuine positive vibe that it is both inspiring and painful to watch. His vibe shocks me more than reading about genocide.

I don’t know if I can ever allow myself to be that positive.

I don’t have much talent for happiness.