Midnight rant: Bojack Horseman
I recently finished my bachelor in tourism and...
I felt nothing.
I saw people shed tears during the ceremony, parents, other students. An ocean of emotions around me. And I felt nothing.
So weird, it's usually the other way around.
I remember struggling to get through one class without having to go to the bathroom and cry it out, bring it all back in, and walk again into my seat, a little ashamed, a little relief.
Or sitting alone, but surrounded by people, on the bus home holding back gasps, sighs and pain.
Maybe I had some relief to be done after all, maybe some shame thanks to my own impossible expectations of where I was "supposed" to be by now.
I didn't feel proud, or like it was the end of an era. I didn't feel accomplished.
I didn't feel like the guy who gave the valedictorian speech.
I wasn't moved by the teachers who said with broken voices that this would be the beginning of our now meaningful lives. What does that even mean?
So surreal.
I was there, standing awkward with my nothingness. Faking smiles that almost hurt. Some guys looked like they were on top of the world, some others said they would eat the world now. And me, with nothing. A weird shameful nothing.
Sure, I finished, good, I won't deal with this shit anymore or see any of your faces, but, a little less reaction than that. Maybe a little fear for what's coming next, but not quite.
Just a big indifference to what a lot of peers were calling "the most important day of their lives", of course, my cynical brain went straight to judgment: "Really? Pathetic." Maybe I was just jealous.
We are all getting the same exact diploma, "why am I jealous?"... I wasn't angry about the "achievement", I was mad because of the lack of feeling. Why the fuck am I empty again?
I felt like a bride who was saying her vows in a completely half-assed, fake and insincere way.
So I started wondering why they felt so proud...
I mean, they can probably access higher paying jobs, they ended a stage of their lives, and they were receiving a validated certificate for their continued effort, some were the first generation in their families to get a bachelor, some thanked their single mothers for sticking up until this point...
First I thought, in my almost not self-centered mind, that I wasn't as satisfied as them because their lesser minds were... too easily impressed by themselves. Getting that bachelor in that school seemed hardly a merit. (And yes, in hindsight I do understand how narcissistic I sound).
Time passed and I never got that proud feeling. It wasn't coming.
One day, scrolling through the Netflix catalog, I saw an animated series that I had never watched because an exboyfriend used to laugh and enjoy it so much that my bitter-hormonal-self thought it was immature. But now, I decided to give it a try. And this Netflix binge-watching session was stared by none other than Bojack Horseman.
It hit so close to home, that I got properly sick for a week.
This... horseman, endures an everyday life of miserable pain and judgment, just barely getting by with the help of loved ones who see his potential and try to push him everytime he falls... Which is quite often.
But wait... Me too.
He publishes a very successful book, plays the lead role in a possibly oscar nominated movie, stars in an award-winning tv series... And yet, he doesn't feel anything. Some people admire him and some hate him but they are all drawn to him and his self-destructive mess. He doesn't feel accomplished because... he hasn't really accomplished anything other than having a network of people willing to do the best for him. And he just drifts, and let's go. Doing the bare minimum every day because he can't deal with the pain of his own existence and failure. And I realized...
I could only see, understand and feel all of his pain because it wasn't his at all. At the end of the day, he's just a character. All of this interpretation is completely mine.
Truth is, I've made a habit out of doing the bare minimum and people who believe I have so much more potential keep giving me more and more growth opportunities but, am I taking them? NO. I never do. Because now, seven years into this mediocre lifestyle, I'm terrified of walking out of this rut. Because of what it means. Let me explain, it's so scary, the scariest thing. To be stuck in this unhappy routine of emotional torture is better than exploring getting out of it because of the result. What happens if I do try my hardest, and I do my best and I strive to achieve my goals and actually earn them? The first scenario, I actually get it, which of course scares me (what now?) and second, I don't. And if I don't succeed, the most reasonable solution is to end it all. Bojack does quite horrible things that end up hurting his loved ones and himself. And to dull the pain, he just consumes whatever distraction is available.
Does this make sense to anyone?
There's option a) keep doing this until I guess it really is unbearable but since it’s cyclic it probably never will be, b) change completely or c) just give up.
Bojack's solution at the end of season 5 is rehab, so option b. And yet, I've already been to rehab twice. Bojack's words before going in, were "what if I get sober and I'm just a horrible person underneath?” I already know that answer: Yes, you're horrible underneath, and while I may be sober, I'm still that scared self-destructing person trying to survive my own mind... Even if I don't sedate it anymore with alcohol or sex, I still numb the pain down with 16 hour naps and extreme isolation.
And the worst part is not even that, the worst part is that it's a never-ending circle. Some days, it's fighting a stiff and hurt body, some days, the guilt and shame, others nothing at all... And figuring out every day which one...
I felt nothing.
I saw people shed tears during the ceremony, parents, other students. An ocean of emotions around me. And I felt nothing.
So weird, it's usually the other way around.
I remember struggling to get through one class without having to go to the bathroom and cry it out, bring it all back in, and walk again into my seat, a little ashamed, a little relief.
Or sitting alone, but surrounded by people, on the bus home holding back gasps, sighs and pain.
Maybe I had some relief to be done after all, maybe some shame thanks to my own impossible expectations of where I was "supposed" to be by now.
I didn't feel proud, or like it was the end of an era. I didn't feel accomplished.
I didn't feel like the guy who gave the valedictorian speech.
I wasn't moved by the teachers who said with broken voices that this would be the beginning of our now meaningful lives. What does that even mean?
So surreal.
I was there, standing awkward with my nothingness. Faking smiles that almost hurt. Some guys looked like they were on top of the world, some others said they would eat the world now. And me, with nothing. A weird shameful nothing.
Sure, I finished, good, I won't deal with this shit anymore or see any of your faces, but, a little less reaction than that. Maybe a little fear for what's coming next, but not quite.
Just a big indifference to what a lot of peers were calling "the most important day of their lives", of course, my cynical brain went straight to judgment: "Really? Pathetic." Maybe I was just jealous.
We are all getting the same exact diploma, "why am I jealous?"... I wasn't angry about the "achievement", I was mad because of the lack of feeling. Why the fuck am I empty again?
I felt like a bride who was saying her vows in a completely half-assed, fake and insincere way.
So I started wondering why they felt so proud...
I mean, they can probably access higher paying jobs, they ended a stage of their lives, and they were receiving a validated certificate for their continued effort, some were the first generation in their families to get a bachelor, some thanked their single mothers for sticking up until this point...
First I thought, in my almost not self-centered mind, that I wasn't as satisfied as them because their lesser minds were... too easily impressed by themselves. Getting that bachelor in that school seemed hardly a merit. (And yes, in hindsight I do understand how narcissistic I sound).
Time passed and I never got that proud feeling. It wasn't coming.
One day, scrolling through the Netflix catalog, I saw an animated series that I had never watched because an exboyfriend used to laugh and enjoy it so much that my bitter-hormonal-self thought it was immature. But now, I decided to give it a try. And this Netflix binge-watching session was stared by none other than Bojack Horseman.
It hit so close to home, that I got properly sick for a week.
This... horseman, endures an everyday life of miserable pain and judgment, just barely getting by with the help of loved ones who see his potential and try to push him everytime he falls... Which is quite often.
But wait... Me too.
He publishes a very successful book, plays the lead role in a possibly oscar nominated movie, stars in an award-winning tv series... And yet, he doesn't feel anything. Some people admire him and some hate him but they are all drawn to him and his self-destructive mess. He doesn't feel accomplished because... he hasn't really accomplished anything other than having a network of people willing to do the best for him. And he just drifts, and let's go. Doing the bare minimum every day because he can't deal with the pain of his own existence and failure. And I realized...
I could only see, understand and feel all of his pain because it wasn't his at all. At the end of the day, he's just a character. All of this interpretation is completely mine.
Truth is, I've made a habit out of doing the bare minimum and people who believe I have so much more potential keep giving me more and more growth opportunities but, am I taking them? NO. I never do. Because now, seven years into this mediocre lifestyle, I'm terrified of walking out of this rut. Because of what it means. Let me explain, it's so scary, the scariest thing. To be stuck in this unhappy routine of emotional torture is better than exploring getting out of it because of the result. What happens if I do try my hardest, and I do my best and I strive to achieve my goals and actually earn them? The first scenario, I actually get it, which of course scares me (what now?) and second, I don't. And if I don't succeed, the most reasonable solution is to end it all. Bojack does quite horrible things that end up hurting his loved ones and himself. And to dull the pain, he just consumes whatever distraction is available.
Does this make sense to anyone?
There's option a) keep doing this until I guess it really is unbearable but since it’s cyclic it probably never will be, b) change completely or c) just give up.
Bojack's solution at the end of season 5 is rehab, so option b. And yet, I've already been to rehab twice. Bojack's words before going in, were "what if I get sober and I'm just a horrible person underneath?” I already know that answer: Yes, you're horrible underneath, and while I may be sober, I'm still that scared self-destructing person trying to survive my own mind... Even if I don't sedate it anymore with alcohol or sex, I still numb the pain down with 16 hour naps and extreme isolation.
And the worst part is not even that, the worst part is that it's a never-ending circle. Some days, it's fighting a stiff and hurt body, some days, the guilt and shame, others nothing at all... And figuring out every day which one...
Are we all just destined to envy those damn neurotypicals?
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