Burned

The truth is, you’ll do better without me. All my unrequited affection only drove you away. The insistence you have in limiting your potential is silly, but it’s your choice. You don’t yet know that you have power but you do.

There is no more us. You are a thing I couldn’t have and now I’m repulsed by. How things have gone from once so sweet to bitter and rotten. An unexplored potential now never to be. I don’t want you. Not anymore. Not ever.

I’m angry as you can see. I’m not a petty asshole who punishes with power. I’ll always forward your career potential even if I don’t want to invest in a friendship. I doubt I’ll ever see you again though. I’ve done a pretty good job of traumatizing you into isolation. Look at how opposite of the thing I wanted to do happened! Isn’t it amazing? I broke the one person I really felt in harmony with. I ruined her chances at friendship with me and her fear of me will keep her away from my organization from now on. She’s been destroyed by my uncontrolled desire to know. She’s drowned in my bile. Goodbye C. You didn’t deserve what I gave you, but you don’t deserve me either.

Now that you’re gone, I have a chance at clarity. Now that I don’t have to care about you any more, I can proceed with an unbiased perspective. You’ll never see me the sane way, and always revile my behavior. My unwanted attraction. My flamboyance. My effusive expressions. I have hurt you and I know it. I accept it. I own it. I did it so you would go away now that you don’t want me. I banished our friendship because I could not do what I wanted. Is that petty and cruel? FUCK YES IT IS! But it still happened. It’s still my response. It is still the reason why I’ll never see you again.

And you know, maybe this is a lesson for me. Maybe traumatizing people and breaking friendships I can’t explore more deeply is a thing I’ll get better at as time goes on. Think of all the innocent people I’ll destroy and leave stunned in the dark. Oh the future is full of pain Blog. Full of pain that I inflict. Why? Because I can’t have anyone. Because no one wants me. Because no one really means what they say. Because even the way people act is a lie that hides a limitation. She lied. She and do many others. She lied to make it easier on herself to say goodbye. Now I am too.

You did lead me on. You don’t admit your part in this but you had one. You wanted me to play into this situation but didn’t want it to perturb your fragile balance. Your reinterpretation of our sharing stinks of revisionist history. You couldn’t decide what you were comfortable with and now we’re both burned up.

C, you’re a great person who doesn’t have much figured out yet. You had no chemistry for me. You disregarded my affection. You settled for the mediocre to preserve your morality. I hope you enjoy the lot you’ve prescribed yourself. I’ve failed enough times to know you take what you want and get stronger. Truth is, you never really wanted me even though I tried to make you. You should have just said “never.” Then at least I could have stopped caring a long time ago.

I hope you cry. I hope it hurts. I’m roiling. I’m furious at you. I’ll never go back to being your friend. This is the finality I always sought, just the opposite result. I’m bitter. I’m fuming, but not going to take one single action. You won’t come back anyway, I’m sure you’ll never work for me again. Why would you? I’m a fucking prick.

The Jar

It all goes back in and the stopper on top. The finality of it is reassuring but the future seems emptier than before. A cringe and a retreat is my response. No regret but no more future either.

It helps to not have to hope; reality seems more achievable now. My effusions dispersed and evaporated away. The baggage of wanting removed and only the lasting bond of friendship remains. C and I seem like we won’t be, ever, and even though that is sad, it also helps. No I don’t have to dream anymore. I don’t have to yearn in an unrequited spiral. Now I can continue living my life the way I have been, erring a future built on good mental health.

Done. Back to the routine without the beacon to fill the world with light. Much as I always knew it would be. Much as I deserve. So on we go…

Unchanging

I don’t know why, but I always seem to hope for unrealistic things. For example: I hope that people in my world would stop and change their destructive behaviors and instead nothing changes. I hope that self-honest introspection would be seen as an aspiration, but still nothing changes. I’m mired in frustration; perplexed by a world of decay and stagnation while I try to emerge. I think I’ve finally snapped.

I’m not in psychosis, but I’m just done with the people that erode my healthy behaviors and perpetuate dysfunction. I’m tired of shallow and meaningless exchanges that build a nothing road to nowhere. Why am I wasting my time, skills and love on people who don’t recognize what I have to offer? I’m such a special person, and yet, I subject myself to a reality that will never comprehend all that I am.

This is my frustration. It is massive, unrecognized and undesired. I have very few people in my world that really matter or make a difference. My home is a wasteland. My social circle has chunks missing from it. My redemption is the hard work I put in to help people advance their lives towards prosperity, dignity and stability. That’s no joke. I really do help people, every day. Meanwhile I’m surrounded by resentment, disdain, denial and escapism. My role models are the worst people I know.

So Blog, I’m detaching. Fuck all that noise. I’m launching into independence of self if not of physical location. Soon enough I will be subject to a calamitous and changing circumstance, but the torture involved is unrelenting while totally unappreciated. I’m frustrated beyond calculation.

I tried to expand the bubble and I shouldn’t have. The world is just jam packed with idiots, mindless wanderers and deplorables waiting to poison my reality. Are you ever just sickened by the life you lead? Do you ever wish you could permanently exit? I think about it now. I didn’t used to, but now I do. This life is frustrating because all the parts that need to change are completely unchanging. Stuck in dysfunction. Sinking into the stagnation in a painfully slow fashion.

I do wish I wasn’t here anymore. Nobody sees me. Nobody is even slightly capable beyond a slim margin of well-traveled veterans of my bubble. Do you know how desolate it feels to know we’re all just faking real life? Every day is a pretend version of actuality. Every interaction is make believe. I humor my way through, but why? They don’t see me now, what difference would it make if I were dead? I’d still be just as ineffectual and easy to disregard.

I feel acutely hopeless. Lost. I don’t know how long I can tolerate this rancid rot that fills my nostrils. Denial. Revulsion. Despair. Goodnight.

Groups

Why is it that these groups help? There’s no treatment being rendered, no prescriptions or policies to follow. How can sharing be so effective? I think it has a lot to do with repressed versus expressed feelings and the cathartic act involved in unleashing things that few others get to see.

I don’t feel particularly rejuvenated, but I do feel like I was heard, which is a profound thing. I expressed my hurt over my dad, my poor coping skills stemming from that. I got a lot of genuine reaction from people who understand the why and the what of dealing with mental health symptoms. It is a blessing to have this support and be able to be exposed by it. I just wish I could have a similar feeling from a caring partner.

I saw people fighting the symptoms and thoughts of mental illness in their lives and surviving. People facing their demons and vocalizing. I’m still kinda running from mine, but I won’t forever, yet there was so much in the group dynamic I benefitted from. I will be resolute in healthily coping, but reaching that state is the struggle I face. For now though, my ecliptic is only a place I hang laundry from and the so-called cushions of my chair are pancaked into squishless plates of unfortunate size that tweak my posture and provide no relief. There are surely better habits out there waiting to be implemented.

All the lonely was scraped off like so much obscuring ice on the car windshield of my destiny. I still have only a small sniff of things that may come, but for the time being, there is an ache which continues unabated, unrequited and unmistakable. Is there someone out there? There are people that I help and those that help me. I tend to think a balance of both is the surest path towards positivity.

Crashy ‘Splode… Poof!

I haven’t felt like writing. Real life has been volatile to the point of occupying my attention fully. K was back for a bit but now gone again. She’s not the right fit for my life, which is now abundantly clear. Dad is still slowly dying; withering away as I watch helplessly. Mom lost her mind with stress and grief a few days back, which poisoned the world for a time. Am I dealing with this? Have I become depersonalized from my perception of reality? What hope is there of consistency when all the variables are fluctuating?

I have only what skills and strategies I’ve learned in order to survive this life in varying states of decomposition and growth. There’s no making sense of it; I’ve given up on that. Now, I hang on for scrapes and fingernails.

Daddo

My dad has a limited time left with us, and I’m coming to terms with his upcoming death. I see only one path forward; to be there as needed until the end. I’m his son.

I feel everything one would expect me to feel, but I’m not expressing any of it right now. I’ve made the space in our reality for my mom and sister to experience things while I direct reason and action; providing stability. This role I fill helps us endure the hard times to come, but also works healthily for me since nothing gets repressed. The postponement of response is a promise, not a lock on a safe.

I know my time to process is coming, but right now I accept and embrace the role I have filled in this family unit. I am proud to be a member of it, and fighting to keep us from listing.

Will it work? There’s no telling. I have a good support structure in W and K. I need to be able to use my own tools in a crisis rather than always go looking for the answer outside of myself. I must survive with what I have if I am to survive at all.

Threadbare

A sinew;

Twisting, stretch-snapping the expanse,

Shredded down to an impossible wire.

But feeling it there–

Some thread still binding,

In unrequited twitterpation,

Escaping the fury of torment,

Yet yanking at the throat–

Scraping the hole left by death.

It’s only in dreaming–

That some bridge still exists,

A span still endures,

Where she can still be found.