I wonder if there's anything inherently wrong with me.
No matter how desperate I feel in life, a part of me just refuses to get a fucking job.
No amount of negative balance in my bank account or gritty talks about job hunting with my stressed mom can change how I feel towards getting a traditional job, and now I wonder if I'm just perpetually lazy, mentally ill, or simply delusional.

I would have these unprompted heated talks with my mom about my life at least once a month. In their eyes I was, and still am, a pitiful child. After all, an unemployed 27 year-old is not normal, at least in their perspective. Those types of people are often regarded as lazy and useless in our culture, and my mother will not accept that. Both of my parents are hardworking (especially my dad who's a bit of a workaholic, always looking for something to do even on his day off), so they have no idea why their daughter, a computer info graduate, is a chaotic mess. But despite all of that, they still try their best to understand and support their confusing, deranged child with her farfetched dreams.. but they can only tolerate so much before it starts to become ridiculous and tiring.

In their eyes I had no ambition or drive, because that's what it looks like from the outside; I don't have any proof to dispute it because after all I still am living in their house and have nothing to show. For four years I've failed in my attempts to become self-made; the never-ending stream of dreams and ideas dictated my every move each time I try to pursue something worth while. Not to mention my weird tendencies to get migraines and feel exhausted out of nowhere would render me absolutely useless for the whole day and mentally deaf with all the buzzing in my head 24/7. I've been "trying my best" all these years without any output or solid results, so I can see why they would feel upset, doubtful, and impatient.

To be honest, I didn't think I'd live this long. I think that's a big part of the reason why I feel so unready to face reality (aside from the dreadful pandemic that affected and changed everyone's lives in 2020). When I was in university, I stopped being the diligent straight A kid who went to each class and studied hard. I started skipping classes, neglected my homework, and barely attended presentation projects. I have no idea how I was able to get off that depressive state, but ever since then, the passion I've lost and life I've lived never felt the same. The fleeting interests came and go, nothing in my life was consistent. I regained most of my usual self - the various positive emotions and relatively good traits in me, and even perhaps a glimmer of hope for the future. But at the end of the day, I still feel like I lost a life, as if I was like a cat with nine lives and my first life just ended. I'm a new person in the same body, starting back to square one.

But even in this "second" life, my deeply-rooted desire to become self-made hasn't changed. Sure, there's plenty of external and internal forces that hinder me from achieving this goal, but that hasn't stopped my delusional ass from still pursuing it no matter how many times I try and fail.

My whole existence seemingly rejects the idea of working for someone else. I have this innate desire to not partake in a capitalist society's expectations and traditional standards; I want to build myself from the ground up in my own, genuine way. Not in the entrepreneurial way, no. I do not wish to be the next Steve Jobs or whatever. I just want to create. It doesn't matter what it is (though it will most likely be art, because I love art) or how I earn from it (business? commissions? Youtube? personal brand? doesn't matter), as long as I can create. I just want it to be stable and successful enough that can fulfill both my wants and needs, and support my aging parents in the process.

I'm not quite sure when to quit, despite always doing so. I hop from project to project, from a new interest to another, start one thing and never finish despite showing signs of progress and growth, and quit on multiple occasions only to try again. It's a toxic, exhausting, never-ending cycle of trying and I wonder if I'm just addicted to the chase, allergic to success, or simply stupid.

It's embarrassing to admit that I still get reprimanded by my parents at this age. I'm aware that they're simply doing their duties as a responsible parent worried for their late 20-something "teenager." I know they're doing this because they love me..
But my god is this love so fucking suffocating when you don't have it for yourself.

It feels that way, but...
I recently saw from Twitter a quote that stuck with me ever since.
It said "If you want to learn to love yourself, you already do. Where else do you think that want comes from?"

Maybe this unwillingness to compromise is a testament to a feeling I never thought existed.

Maybe, just maybe, the reason I can't give up is because I do love myself after all.