Going Out, and Random Rants

I spend most of my time indoors. I have become hard pressed to go though the mental barrier (for me) and into the outside world.

The reasons to this are numerous. I am definitely an Internet addict. My hobbies are fiddling with computers and caressing my dolls, both of which are not usually done outside home, although the latter has become a motivation for me to leave my apartment, in order to take photos of my dolls.

Which leads to the third hobby of mine, photography. I would never go out without at least something I can take photos with. (Usually that implies a camera and my phone.) I would like to think that wandering around with a camera in my hands is got to be my favorite part of life.

Unlike what I have heard from creative people, I do not feel a particular drive for taking better photos. I feel somewhat bad about this, as I do not want to be hollow, and I do want to leave something behind when I die. (As I am a sceptic, this is only an emotional stance.)

I am also afraid of being fake. I want to be like those who inspire me, those who create artworks that I admire. But in fact all I have done was just for the results, and I do not enjoy at all the process, as real artists do (or so I have heard). Only when taking photos do I really enjoy. Or do I?

I have no doubt that photography is also a medium of art. (As do games, maybe more on this another day.) But I am not sure if I am really creating something, or just playing with a camera and being narcissistic about photos I have taken. I cannot tell.

One of the resolution is for me to abandon all hope of creating something of value, acknowledge that I am worthless as most people do, and move on to making myself as happy as possible.

I can already envision a description for myself: a bad programmer, who plays with dolls and cameras. Uninteresting and worthless.

I am scared because I think I am worthless. I know that, deep in my heart, I believe that creators are sacred, and others are just soulless beings struggling for tomorrow's meals and shelter, no matter how much money they make or how famous they become.

I know this is a very vicious attitude towards a person's life and its worth. But I cannot help acting this way, no matter what I always do: lie to myself and others that I believe everyone worths something. I do not want to talk to people because I always feel inferior. I hate myself when I realize I only dare to talk to people I look down upon. I am a total jerk.

I acknowledge I have too high standards for everything. I am still living fantasies that no one, not even myself, can tell me that all are lies. I cannot accept the ugly truth that is me, that is everyone and the world.