Only recently I found out that, technically, writing a date like this:

17.09.2025.

is considered grammatically incorrect. It's a way of writing a date used in legal documents, to prevent some sort of fraud by having someone add a number later on, thus tempering with your date. Single-digit numbers are always written without zero, in other cases. Had no idea! And here I thought I was quite knowledgeable about grammar.

I used to be way less confident. Most of the people growing up could say the same about themselves, I don't shake the walls with that statement. But I am doing better, way better than, say, 3 or 4 years ago.
I had a friend back then. She's still a friend now, but we rarely see eachother. We used to spend every day together. I really cared about her opinion. Too much. Had this pattern with people, more precisely, best female friends, where I was so dependent on their perception of me, on their liking of me. They mostly cared about themselves way more than they cared about me. And I don't mean this in any kind of condescending, implying-you're-a-narcissist way. Girls had their own problems. They probably weren't stoked about themselves, either. Just wrestled in a different style.
But there was this thing about this last girl, in particular. Last in a sense that after that, I've never so significantly given up my self-worth to another person through this particular pattern (yay me!). She had her beliefs about this place. She believed that each person had a tendency to do, achieve certain things, gain certain opportunities - it was authentically theirs. Not so out of the picture, right? Yeah, but there's a twist: these tendencies, opportunities, they were, in her mind, some kind of energy bundles, let's say, that could be given or taken away. So, for example, just because someone is practicing basketball and it's going really well for them, and they're giving in hours of practice every day, and get opportunities based on that, it doesn't mean that this tendency is authentically theirs. They could've taken it from someone. Through their unconscious. You following this? Good.
It seemed to me that almost every opportunity I came across, everything I maybe tried to do or expressed interest in, even when I was just feeling good for the day, she viewed it as someone else's. Not mine. She would tell me.
It made me sad. Imagine, this is the girl whose approval I want so bad, and there she is, telling me that almost all of the things I reveled in were not my own. Furthermore, that I dislike myself and am unable to accept things that are mine. That didn't help at all!
To be fair, there was one thing she acknowledged as my own, which I want to point out, as I'm afraid that when I describe it like this, it sounds like she was a big ol' meanie, just projecting stuff all over me, her unconscious view of herself painting a picture of the people the closest to her. I entertained that thought. But the situation truly seems more complex than that. I know she believed these things, probably still believes them.
Now I realize those two sentences aren't mutually exclusive. What I'm trying to say, she never consciously intended any harm. That, I'm certain about.
The reason why I flew into this web of words and thoughts is because I met her yesterday. She's a Christian now, has a nice relationship with Jesus going on for her. I'm happy for her, even though I myself don't buy it.
I mentioned the smoking thing, my couple of days of relapse and decision to start my non-smoking life once again right here, right now. She said she'll pray for me, which I always find endearing when she does. She then went on to say that she prayed for a year, or two years, for me to stop smoking before I originally quit. I find that very sweet, too. But she did it again. She took something that required my decision, my effort and planning, and completely contributed it to something else. This time, it's not these random bundles of energy that take the spot, it's God himself. And it does hurt me, however silly it may seem. Even today. It's been almost three years we're not seeing eachother every day.
The thing is, even without God, I don't believe that my life is my own in a sense that I choose what to do with it. If we're partly our genetics, partly our circumstances, well, I chose neither! So I had no choice in building a character that would, one day, end up quitting smoking, starting an online blog, flopping a year at the university, or stumble into any other (mis)adventure I find myself in. This is all one seriously interactive movie, our personalities and internal lives are just as equal part of the show as anything else we might experience.
Why do I care so much, then? If none of this is because of me, it might aswell be because of her prayer.
This thing stretches out further. I care so much about having a respectable career, or a skill I'm really good at, about being valued for it. And I do find that to be one of the back walls of human psyche, or at least quite close to one. It's like asking someone why they want to be happy. Because, dude, because! Nowhere to go from there, really. Simply the way of being human. Happiness is one of the things we truly want (I know this can be debatable, but I can't go there right now, some other time, I promise. Point is, this is one of the essential things, and it gets surpressed into backdrop only by another essential thing).
I mean, maybe you can analyze it further. Let's see... Love, feelings of safety... Is that it? Maybe, but it has a specific quality when attained in this specific way. Like playing a song on an electric guitar and a violin. Yeah, the song is the same, the tempo, the notes, even the mood, but the timbre of the instruments makes each experience special in their own way. And I guess I want this career-skill timbre quite a bit, whatever the reason may be.
I might've told my friend about the hurt she caused me. I remember telling her something related, so I'm not sure completely. Maybe some time I tell her (again). That part isn't the most important one, though. I haven't let go yet. I haven't let go of the hurt she originally caused me, and I haven't let go of the sense of my own agency.
Let's be clear, in everyday life, I'm living as though free will is real, and I don't plan to change this. It's practical! But I still, in some way, indentify with the concept of free will.
Somebody's definitely home. I exist. Because, whatever this is, that's how existence is defined. There's something to identify. But not like this. And I haven't let go of that. Maybe someday. I don't want to burden myself, nor my friendships with such silly things. The skills developed and the heights soared to career-wise are just steps along the way, enjoying them doesn't have to include identifying with them, feeling pride about them.
Sorry if I made your head spin. I sure took mine for a ride!