untitled note | 5 October 2020 | “Allowed To Be Stupid”

What’s the point of being smart if you can’t change the world for the better?


I think one source of my depression is the fact that my country, the place that’s supposed to be my home, doesn’t care about me. I am an object to be sacrificed. I have no value unless I’m making someone else money. My wants and desires are only valid if they coincide with those of our overlords.

I have no agency to pursue my passions, because I’ve been told my passions are meaningless and unimportant ever since I was a child. I have always been an artist at heart, but artists don’t make money. They don’t contribute to society – at least that’s what they say. Even the greatest artists are looked down upon until after they’ve died.

That’s why I pursued engineering, and that’s why I failed at it. I had the ability and intelligence to be a successful engineer, but the closer I got to the finish line, the closer I got to losing what I care about: the vigor for life, the want of exploration, the love of learning for the sake of learning.

I was no longer acting because I wanted to, but because I thought I had to. My life wasn’t a gift, but an obligation. I was losing my individuality, and my greatest fear became seeing the stranger in the mirror.

Now I’m in so much debt, it feels like my life doesn’t belong to me. And what hurts the most is that I’m in debt to something I never really wanted to do.






Working, especially a minimum wage job, isn’t about making money. It’s an allowance. Not of money, but of a continuation of life. No one can claim they’re “making money” when every paycheck immediately goes to bills. We’re literally working to give the money we “earned” back to those who supposedly “paid” us for sacrificing our lives and happiness. People are meant to be more than machines that require maintenance. Every person is a universe who deserves the respect that comes from existing.




I think the worst part about being an artist is spending so much time with your art that you can’t help but to hate it. Instead of seeing the piece as a whole, you become blind to the good, and only see the bad.



I don’t want to work. Not because I’m lazy, but because I’m tired of being taken advantage of. I want to be able to take pride in my work, but work usually takes my dignity.





I’ve survived 20 years of anxiety and 10 years of depression, and neither are going away anytime soon. I know I’m strong enough to handle them. My worry isn’t that I’m going to die because of them, but that I’ll never truly live.



My art is my words, because the only way I could pursue art was in my mind



The biggest hindrance to the growth of society and its people is the refusal to accept our ignorance. We are not allowed to be stupid, even though everyone is.