Shame, Regret, Compulsion & Dread, before & after taking actions

So there are many cases where I feel almost compelled to do something, having some strange kind of faith that following whatever chaotic plan that is inspired in me is for some good, but not wanting to do it and even feeling ruined or disrupted by it, do it anyway, regretting it even before doing it and feeling all the worse after. Like sullying my own work of efforts as part of some greater plan or disrupting my peace.

It happens after I write things, communicate, send things, share things, give things. I do it, but I do it despite not wanting to do it really and feeling terrible about it as well.

As soon as I send anything, I don’t feel any relief really, but anxiety, like I’ve just allowed myself to be molested again or something.

I even manage to get away from things, given perfect opportunities, and its as if with my own hands I up the stakes for myself in order to make myself even more advanced, creating better reasons, or forcing myself out by the situations I manipulate deliberately albeit unwillingly or with great personal regret.

I find this odd mixture to be like some sort of divine imposition, like possession or mental illness. My plans are logical, but they sometimes take measures that I don’t really like doing or want to do, never anything really crazy or bad or dangerous, but certainly annoying, even for me.

I follow these sick plans and they appear so complex in their Chaos and work out well for me but I just want a simple happy life, I don’t want these layered plots to avoid troubles.

I create situations which protect me counterintuitively. I create escapes and alibis and real reasons and hate it all.

It can’t even be said that I really like or want to share or create or read or do anything. If I think about it, I really don’t, and when I do, I feel this horrible sick feeling like I am being forced. Forced to say good things, do good things, help people, advise them, create art.

​​​​​​I’ve even tried npt doing it. In no time I’m back at it again or situations arise which are increasingly forceful that I act on them.

My whole life is like a gun is held to my head. Its only good luck that I don’t do anything bad. I don’t want to do good though, or bad, or much of anything.

I often talk about pursuing pleasure, but what do I even enjoy. I’m just a streaker of another sort. I don’t really want people to know me, I don’t want them to even think about me. I dread every message I send, my heart sinks with my posts. I’m unpleasantly forced to speak. Its like just farting in public loudly or something or having a nose bleed or pants falling clear off.

To be constantly exposed, constantly naked.

Speaking of which. Sometimes when I am falling asleep my body might make involuntary sounds or motions, then I have involuntary dreams, wake up and do involuntary things, down to what I write. It is so different than people who are blessed with minds which convince them that decisions are their own.