19 Before 19: Blueprint for My Personal Regression
Date:
Wed, 01 Apr 2026
Become the kind of person who says “lowkey” about everything, even though nothing is “lowkey” to me, and I blow everything out of proportion.
Thought about sending a nihilistic email to my future self just to warn them (since I’ve been told I’m a nihilist by at least 10 separate adults at different stages in my lifetime).
Saying “I don’t care anymore” when continuing to obsess over every detail and rant about it like it’s breaking news.
Saying I need therapy but never actually going because I’m big-headed enough to believe I’m self-aware enough and therapy won’t actually tell me anything I don’t already know.
Spend so much time analyzing my habits that I never change them because I dislike change and would rather suffer through predictability than face the possibility of things getting worse.
Considered giving up entirely to pursue hermit-level anonymity because I fully believe life would be easier if I didn’t wake up every day anxious about who I have to talk to and what I have to do (or how I’ll inevitably mess it up).
Let one tiny failure dictate my mood for the entire week, because emotional consistency is overrated and I reserve the right to be as dramatic as I want.
Imagine conversations that will never happen, then berate myself for being “socially inadequate” in them, because even in my own head, I still manage to lose the argument.
Calculated how many people I could inconvenience if I disappeared for a week just to test my existence (spoiler: I can count them on one hand, and even that feels generous).
Make being overwhelmed my default state so I don’t have to try and risk finding out I’m just average.
Constantly be embarrassed about trying not to be embarrassing, then embarrassed about being embarrassed, and then embarrassed that I’m self-aware enough to notice it but not stop it.
Spend 10+ hours making a custom planner for myself that I have never used because I convinced myself that being “aesthetic” would motivate me to try more. It does not.
Judge people for things I literally did yesterday because, for some reason, it’s forgivable when I do it, but deeply concerning and a huge red flag when anyone else does.
Considering that life would be easier if I ran away and lived with monkeys, because at least they wouldn’t expect me to have a five-year plan or a consistent personality.
Be a toxic person by being really mean to someone and then really nice, so it looks like I “grew,” when really I just didn’t know how to be normal enough to be their friend the first time without being a bully.
Became addicted to popping Advil like Tic Tacs, then forbade myself from touching them out of fear that I might inherit the same addictive tendencies running through my family (even in the smallest, mundane habits).
Feel proud of the work I produce, then immediately backpedal when someone acknowledges it because I’m convinced I’m trying too hard, make a self-deprecating joke, get reassurance from them, and then feel guilty for “fishing for compliments” I didn’t know how to accept in the first place.
Imagine that every minor insult or offhand comment I’ve made has been stored in my friends’ brains, fused into a single verdict on who I am, and panic that this synthesized version of me is the most accurate one.
Sit in bed at night, mentally reviewing everything I did wrong that day, as if this performance review will somehow change tomorrow’s behavior (if anything, it’ll probably make everything worse).