Sometimes the lion behind the door is there.
Where there is an absence of language, presumption is allowed to rule. Spun realities that ensnare thoughts in sticky webs.
I always forget to not have unrealistic goals. I yearn to believe even when I shouldn’t.
Okay, so I’m pretty angry that my social experiment has totally failed. What was I thinking, strangers don’t get me, past acquaintances still don’t care about me, yet, this was the place I looked to in order to rekindle my connections with people? I put my faith in people who have disappointed me numerous times in the past and total strangers who know nothing about me at all?
I’m an idiot, period. Ima fry because I’m stupid. I’m alone because I invest in projects that I should leave on the junk pile. I need no one but myself.
Yet, I felt the need to appease my aching loneliness with a remedy destined to disappoint and aggravate. S was a sallow and dimensionless simpleton. A has been a disappointment in all capacities since I got with her. WHAT THE FUCK AMI DOING?!?!?
Laugh all you want. I deserve that. My pain and suffering can be your amusement because it’s deserved. I earned this anger and humiliation. I blame no one but myself. Hopefully I contracted HIV and will die soon.
I’ve never cared about how people read me. If you come here thinking some valuable content is going to be dispersed think again. I’m the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever heard of, and I have not ceased to amaze myself with my own stupidity and foolishness. Go ahead and get a good laugh you troglodytes. Fuck you all. You never did a fucking thing for me despite my pouring my soul out here night after night.
I’m losing my mind. I’m really fucking going insane right now. I hate this. I hate every moment that no one gives a fried shit about me. No one will, ever. I’m alone. I have been scraping the scum to find someone who will care about me, but even I don’t. I wish I were dead.
Well I did learn that distant relationships with fleeting intimacy don’t work for me. It’s just not fair to S in the end though. I did just abruptly leave after waffling in uncertainty about the irritating nature of our arrangement. It’s my fault for not at least explaining anything. It’s just not possible for me to healthily have that kind of relationship with someone. I snapped off. Blacklisted. Gone. Back to the cell with my broken toys. I am catalyzing. The reagents for my departure were well in place and only suffered my ignition. This is my fault though. She definitely could handle it while I could not at all. She’s right to be angry, but it will fade when her world moves on and I become irrelevant. Or, more irrelevant than I was before. I was already little more than an afterthought, which is not much to lose at all.
Well my escapade with S has cratered into the fertile soil of regret. Not that it was unexpected, but I was hoping for some semblance of closeness and got nothing of the sort (either physical or mental) Isolation pervades, and I grow increasingly alone on my island. This is typical, since most encounters I have attempted in the past end in revulsion, rejection and outright dismissal. This time though, I was just acting on the flammable material that was prepped and ready to be set ablaze. S has no real interest in me (or anything going on in my life) and I in her (arguable, I was denied access to her life in full), so it was natural that once the sex was gone there was zero left to hold us together. She was upset at me for walking away again (because I tried once already), but I need to say goodbye.
Realistically, I’m giving up on trying to build this bridge and evict myself from my unwanted isolation. There isn’t anyone who fits the criteria that I keep hoping someone will meet. This is a hopeless procedure and, frankly, I was doing much better without trying to make something happen. I am tired of smashing inadequate results into a lasting mold that fits my bizarre reality. There is no future where settling for whatever wanders past is the right choice, and it never has been. Not saying that happened, but all the applications for building something of value have been turned down upon review.
I don’t harbor anything more than a feeling of sadness, since I am shining brighter than I ever have. Yet, most women I meet can’t wait to escape my radius. I think it’s back to reason and the incremental successes of life. A and I are as far apart as we ever were in our past relationship… with no real gratification, feedback or anything to judge the ongoing value of continuation. What is this simple chat we have? Is it anything other than an activity to occupy a few moments of my time? Is there meaning to be had in these defused and innocuous statements? I tire. I think this might also be a product of my frustration and not indicative of the pattern. I feel no less alone like I hoped I would, or like I did at first. I quickly discovered just because you have people to talk to, doesn’t actually mean anyone really sees/hears you. Or cares.
Profile removed. Chapter adjourned. Now just to clear out the jetsam that has accumulated and start over again by myself. Disappointing? Oh hell yes. Crippling? No, not at all. I have done what my instincts were asking me to do. I tried, I had, I lost. It seems like the road to partnership has been overrun with brambles and foul smelling carcasses galore. I have little reason to go back there until long after the stench of decay has cleared out.
I don’t know what functional looks like right now. I’m taking the walls of the pit to find a way out. There is no out. Prepare for an onslaught of allegories:
Instead of feeling stable, I feel like there are issues that just get stashed on a shelf somewhere out of sight to promote the impression of not being overloaded. There’s no argument that the stashy is not s solution by any stretch. It’s not even a temporary anything.
Who am I right now? There’s a bunch of different personas colliding in here. Vicarious and pragmatic alike, with a sprinkling of ardent skeptics and jubilant idiots. I don’t know what to make of the lot and their shouting. Who emerges… the ambiguity of leadership falls in line with the rest of my reality.
I don’t know. I think that’s the real deal right now. I don’t fucking know what I’m doing or who I’m failing at trying to be. Am I this adaptable fellow? He’s all bendy and detached from concern. Do I have my “scrutinize the fuzzy shit out if this” pants on? I don’t much like those pants now that I have them on. Have you ever felt utterly lost in trying to understand who you are?
I do admire that adaptability I seem to be warmed beside the glow of. Hopefully it also doesn’t destroy me.