I'M FUCKING PISSED AND I HATE YOU ALL!
I'M FUCKING PISSED AS HELL AND I HATE YOU ALL!
Okay, so I fucking schedule a weekend night off JUST SO THAT I CAN GET OUT AND SOCIALIZE JUST LIKE EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME I SHOULD DO! I head downtown and force myself to go on a pub crawl in order to expose myself to as many social situations as possible in this town. I went to Jakes, sat in the corner drinking a double scotch and waiting for I don't know what--maybe someone to come up to me and talk to me, or for someone to enter my attention that I would EVER consider talking to. Nothing. I get drunk and frustrated and walk out.
So I went to Ruby's because I remember that bar from when Joanna turned 21 and she went there to see Yoates and get drunk(er). So sue me, I go with what's familiar first. It was really crowded and uncomfortable, all I had was another scotch, and I was watching all these redneck guys and plastic-pretty girls crowding tables and drinking/talking/flirting and I felt more out of place than anywhere. So I left.
Wandered/stumbled around downtown until I ended up in the Westside somethingorother next to the Barcode, and I actually really did feel at home there so I stopped for more than 10 mins. I had a beer, and was sipping it and checking out the bar for a good hour or so. It seemed like an (Ever)greener bar, with hippies and westsiders almost like me. It had wood paneling and a woodsy atmosphere like the kind of loghouse-atmosphere I've been dreaming and daydreaming about for two years now. It almost seemed like that place I'd been searching for, for a long time now. It was woods and Olympia and community and everyone was happy though no one looked like they were hooking up. It was groups of friends just hanging out together without the pressure of seeking a girl/boy to go home with. It was a place for couples who were happy with each other and their friends. It was exactly the place I'd like to go with someone, and it was exactly the wrong place for me tonight.
I sat there thinking about my life and how I was supposed to be a fucking high school teacher by now. I realized I was going nowhere with my life, and that I needed to work on my schoolwork and fucking graduate, then get into graduate school. My conscience told me to fucking teach high school for five years before I considered teaching in college, as a debt/obligation to society. It wore me down for fucking ignoring my subconscious while I've been working for the past three months, and for having to get this drunk in order to listen to it. Now I was surrounded by a bunch of people who had friends and were doing something with their lives, and I felt like I was in the right place at completely the wrong time in my life. It hurt.
I wandered out of there, desperate to run from myself. I wandered into the 4th ave Tav, and lost myself in some band called Audacity. They sounded like an Olympia version of Godsmack, and though they were really dark and depressing, I felt myself getting lost in the music. It made me forget everything I'd been dwelling on for the past hour, and I felt like I was being tempted to forget myself and everything I was forcing myself to come to terms with. So I left, even though it was pleasant music.
I went to Denny's as a last resort. I ran into my friend Caroline, who I've been trying to get ahold of for weeks for coffee, but after half an hour it was clear to me that though she didn't mind my company, she wasn't all that interested in it. Lane and Roland had showed up by then, so I went and sat with them. Granted, even though I felt like Caroline wasn't interested in anything I had to say, I still felt relieved and happy finally to be sitting with someone who even acknowledged my presence and pretended to listen.
Lane disappeared, and I ended up talking to Roland and Stephanie. Stephanie was fucking drunk, and babbling on about I-can't-remember-what, something about her being a lesbian with one of the waitresses and Roland approving. I was trying to talk to Roland about old times, but he wasn't really into it. I was talking about the first time he found out I liked guys, and how freaked out he appeared.
Then somehow I was telling Stephanie about that one time back in July 2003 when I was at Lane's apartment, and I brought over a fifth of Monarch 100 and got just a little bit of it before Lane and Roland polished it off; then Roland wanted me to give him a ride down to lakefair (at 11:30pm) to see his girlfriend, and I told him to fuck off but then he said "Well I'll talk to her and maybe she'd go in for a tag team with you and me." I told him "Sure, I'll take you down there just to see you get slapped in the face." and we went down there, though he didn't mention it to her and ended up leaving her with me to go run around downtown. We ran through the reef and a bunch of hangouts downtown cuz he wanted to get laid, and I was laughing at him and making fun of him and after two hours of that I was making fun of how drunk and desperate he was, and how he'd stoop to sleeping with me if I was enough of a bastard to take advantage of him; then I dropped him off, and the next day mentioned it and he admitted (half-jokingly) that yeah he might have if I'd pressed the issue.
Roland got really pissed off as I told this story, and told me I was full of shit and lying just to embarass him. You should know by now that you can call me a lot of things, but a liar is something you never call me if you value my company or your life. I got pissed and left in a huff, giving him the finger on my way out. I realize that perhaps he's ashamed of the drunken antics he got into two years ago, or perhaps he really doesn't fucking remember it--drunk and high as he was at that time in his life. But that doesn't give him the right to call me a liar, not when I'm a fucking Olympia social historian; I'm cursed with the fact that I remember the most minutest details of all the things I've ever done with anyone in my life, and I can recall nights like that with crystal clarity. I know everyone's most boring minutiae as well as their darkest secrets and most embarassing tales. I know where the fucking bodies are buried in this town. I'm cursed with many, many faults (most of which I'm deeply ashamed for), but dishonesty is NOT one of them. I am blunt and honest to the point of social disgrace (obviously), and at least I have the guts to fess up about anything and everything I've ever done even if it means people will give me shit about it right then and there, and for the rest of my life. So don't ever fucking call me a liar.
I also called Joanna tonight because I wanted to hang out with her, and yes, I wanted someone to go with me when I tried to go out and socialize tonight so that I wouldn't end up as depressed and angry as I am now. We talked on the phone about work, but she wanted to go home and drink and fuck her boyfriend instead of hang out with me. I'm not surprised, because for the past two months that's all she's wanted to do rather than hang out with me. Jo, it's like I have to fucking schedule time to hang out with you, and when I AM able to talk you into it, it feels almost as if you think you're doing me a favor by making time for me. I'M YOUR FUCKING FRIEND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, AND YOU KNOW DAMN WELL I WAS ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEEDED ME! FUCK, YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT I'LL STILL BE THERE FOR YOU IF YOU CALL ME, EVEN IF IT MEANS CALLING OUT OF WORK! SO YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHY I'M A LITTLE HURT AND ANGRY AND FUCKING PISSED THAT YOU ONLY MAKE TIME FOR ME ONCE EVERY TWO WEEKS, AND EVEN THEN I HAVE TO CALL AND BUG YOU FOR IT AND YOU HAVE TO LEAVE EARLY AND GO HOME TO YOUR BOYFRIEND WHEN WE DO HAVE TIME FOR COFFEE! I'M FUCKING HURT THAT IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS OR SO SINCE _YOU_ HAVE CALLED _ME_ WANTING TO HANG OUT, RATHER THAN THE OTHER WAY AROUND!
So yeah, I'm in a lot of pain right now and have been for quite some time. It's been a month since anyone has called me, genuinely wanting to hang out. I think I have one or two people left on my phone list that I ever even bother trying to call to hang out, and one of them I just bitched out and the other never answers her phone. When I'm not at work, I'm in my apartment because going out (like tonight) just makes me feel even worse and hurts me. Plus, whenever I go out, I see happy couples everywhere and it makes me curse God and the world.
This isn't just a fucking cry for help. I really am seriously depressed. I haven't been this bad off since I was in Pullman or Vancouver, and just like those times in my life I have no one in my life who wants to hang out with me or share my company. I'd be drinking every night just like I was then, but my fucking roommate's in drug court and so I can't drink in my own home. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of killing myself every night. Most nights I cry myself to sleep. I've been playing video games every night just to keep from thinking about myself or my life. I question why it's even worth it to me to go on living, and the only reason I can come up with is that I keep myself alive out of spite for all my old enemies and even for the people I once counted as good friends (who never call me anymore).
I know. Tasha, you and Chuck might read this and feel a little hurt, and I know you've been good to me. But I still feel as if I'm the lonely helpless single person at your family's house when I'm there, so that doesn't help me much. I appreciate you being there for me, but it still doesn't make me feel any better. I'm sorry.
Oh, and I quit smoking Monday, and all this kind of stress only makes me want to smoke even more but I'm not going to because I'm staying smoke-free out of pure willpower. I have plenty of will, but not much happiness in it.
I also dreamed that I was Harry Potter again last night. It wasn't a good dream. I had to watch Dumbledore die again, and I had to kill. I still ended up getting captured by Death Eaters. It was not pleasant, and I woke up two hours early just so I wouldn't have to keep having a nightmare. This is how I sleep every night unless I take sleeping pills to force myself to sleep through the nightmares.
Okay, so I fucking schedule a weekend night off JUST SO THAT I CAN GET OUT AND SOCIALIZE JUST LIKE EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME I SHOULD DO! I head downtown and force myself to go on a pub crawl in order to expose myself to as many social situations as possible in this town. I went to Jakes, sat in the corner drinking a double scotch and waiting for I don't know what--maybe someone to come up to me and talk to me, or for someone to enter my attention that I would EVER consider talking to. Nothing. I get drunk and frustrated and walk out.
So I went to Ruby's because I remember that bar from when Joanna turned 21 and she went there to see Yoates and get drunk(er). So sue me, I go with what's familiar first. It was really crowded and uncomfortable, all I had was another scotch, and I was watching all these redneck guys and plastic-pretty girls crowding tables and drinking/talking/flirting and I felt more out of place than anywhere. So I left.
Wandered/stumbled around downtown until I ended up in the Westside somethingorother next to the Barcode, and I actually really did feel at home there so I stopped for more than 10 mins. I had a beer, and was sipping it and checking out the bar for a good hour or so. It seemed like an (Ever)greener bar, with hippies and westsiders almost like me. It had wood paneling and a woodsy atmosphere like the kind of loghouse-atmosphere I've been dreaming and daydreaming about for two years now. It almost seemed like that place I'd been searching for, for a long time now. It was woods and Olympia and community and everyone was happy though no one looked like they were hooking up. It was groups of friends just hanging out together without the pressure of seeking a girl/boy to go home with. It was a place for couples who were happy with each other and their friends. It was exactly the place I'd like to go with someone, and it was exactly the wrong place for me tonight.
I sat there thinking about my life and how I was supposed to be a fucking high school teacher by now. I realized I was going nowhere with my life, and that I needed to work on my schoolwork and fucking graduate, then get into graduate school. My conscience told me to fucking teach high school for five years before I considered teaching in college, as a debt/obligation to society. It wore me down for fucking ignoring my subconscious while I've been working for the past three months, and for having to get this drunk in order to listen to it. Now I was surrounded by a bunch of people who had friends and were doing something with their lives, and I felt like I was in the right place at completely the wrong time in my life. It hurt.
I wandered out of there, desperate to run from myself. I wandered into the 4th ave Tav, and lost myself in some band called Audacity. They sounded like an Olympia version of Godsmack, and though they were really dark and depressing, I felt myself getting lost in the music. It made me forget everything I'd been dwelling on for the past hour, and I felt like I was being tempted to forget myself and everything I was forcing myself to come to terms with. So I left, even though it was pleasant music.
I went to Denny's as a last resort. I ran into my friend Caroline, who I've been trying to get ahold of for weeks for coffee, but after half an hour it was clear to me that though she didn't mind my company, she wasn't all that interested in it. Lane and Roland had showed up by then, so I went and sat with them. Granted, even though I felt like Caroline wasn't interested in anything I had to say, I still felt relieved and happy finally to be sitting with someone who even acknowledged my presence and pretended to listen.
Lane disappeared, and I ended up talking to Roland and Stephanie. Stephanie was fucking drunk, and babbling on about I-can't-remember-what, something about her being a lesbian with one of the waitresses and Roland approving. I was trying to talk to Roland about old times, but he wasn't really into it. I was talking about the first time he found out I liked guys, and how freaked out he appeared.
Then somehow I was telling Stephanie about that one time back in July 2003 when I was at Lane's apartment, and I brought over a fifth of Monarch 100 and got just a little bit of it before Lane and Roland polished it off; then Roland wanted me to give him a ride down to lakefair (at 11:30pm) to see his girlfriend, and I told him to fuck off but then he said "Well I'll talk to her and maybe she'd go in for a tag team with you and me." I told him "Sure, I'll take you down there just to see you get slapped in the face." and we went down there, though he didn't mention it to her and ended up leaving her with me to go run around downtown. We ran through the reef and a bunch of hangouts downtown cuz he wanted to get laid, and I was laughing at him and making fun of him and after two hours of that I was making fun of how drunk and desperate he was, and how he'd stoop to sleeping with me if I was enough of a bastard to take advantage of him; then I dropped him off, and the next day mentioned it and he admitted (half-jokingly) that yeah he might have if I'd pressed the issue.
Roland got really pissed off as I told this story, and told me I was full of shit and lying just to embarass him. You should know by now that you can call me a lot of things, but a liar is something you never call me if you value my company or your life. I got pissed and left in a huff, giving him the finger on my way out. I realize that perhaps he's ashamed of the drunken antics he got into two years ago, or perhaps he really doesn't fucking remember it--drunk and high as he was at that time in his life. But that doesn't give him the right to call me a liar, not when I'm a fucking Olympia social historian; I'm cursed with the fact that I remember the most minutest details of all the things I've ever done with anyone in my life, and I can recall nights like that with crystal clarity. I know everyone's most boring minutiae as well as their darkest secrets and most embarassing tales. I know where the fucking bodies are buried in this town. I'm cursed with many, many faults (most of which I'm deeply ashamed for), but dishonesty is NOT one of them. I am blunt and honest to the point of social disgrace (obviously), and at least I have the guts to fess up about anything and everything I've ever done even if it means people will give me shit about it right then and there, and for the rest of my life. So don't ever fucking call me a liar.
I also called Joanna tonight because I wanted to hang out with her, and yes, I wanted someone to go with me when I tried to go out and socialize tonight so that I wouldn't end up as depressed and angry as I am now. We talked on the phone about work, but she wanted to go home and drink and fuck her boyfriend instead of hang out with me. I'm not surprised, because for the past two months that's all she's wanted to do rather than hang out with me. Jo, it's like I have to fucking schedule time to hang out with you, and when I AM able to talk you into it, it feels almost as if you think you're doing me a favor by making time for me. I'M YOUR FUCKING FRIEND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, AND YOU KNOW DAMN WELL I WAS ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEEDED ME! FUCK, YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT I'LL STILL BE THERE FOR YOU IF YOU CALL ME, EVEN IF IT MEANS CALLING OUT OF WORK! SO YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHY I'M A LITTLE HURT AND ANGRY AND FUCKING PISSED THAT YOU ONLY MAKE TIME FOR ME ONCE EVERY TWO WEEKS, AND EVEN THEN I HAVE TO CALL AND BUG YOU FOR IT AND YOU HAVE TO LEAVE EARLY AND GO HOME TO YOUR BOYFRIEND WHEN WE DO HAVE TIME FOR COFFEE! I'M FUCKING HURT THAT IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS OR SO SINCE _YOU_ HAVE CALLED _ME_ WANTING TO HANG OUT, RATHER THAN THE OTHER WAY AROUND!
So yeah, I'm in a lot of pain right now and have been for quite some time. It's been a month since anyone has called me, genuinely wanting to hang out. I think I have one or two people left on my phone list that I ever even bother trying to call to hang out, and one of them I just bitched out and the other never answers her phone. When I'm not at work, I'm in my apartment because going out (like tonight) just makes me feel even worse and hurts me. Plus, whenever I go out, I see happy couples everywhere and it makes me curse God and the world.
This isn't just a fucking cry for help. I really am seriously depressed. I haven't been this bad off since I was in Pullman or Vancouver, and just like those times in my life I have no one in my life who wants to hang out with me or share my company. I'd be drinking every night just like I was then, but my fucking roommate's in drug court and so I can't drink in my own home. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of killing myself every night. Most nights I cry myself to sleep. I've been playing video games every night just to keep from thinking about myself or my life. I question why it's even worth it to me to go on living, and the only reason I can come up with is that I keep myself alive out of spite for all my old enemies and even for the people I once counted as good friends (who never call me anymore).
I know. Tasha, you and Chuck might read this and feel a little hurt, and I know you've been good to me. But I still feel as if I'm the lonely helpless single person at your family's house when I'm there, so that doesn't help me much. I appreciate you being there for me, but it still doesn't make me feel any better. I'm sorry.
Oh, and I quit smoking Monday, and all this kind of stress only makes me want to smoke even more but I'm not going to because I'm staying smoke-free out of pure willpower. I have plenty of will, but not much happiness in it.
I also dreamed that I was Harry Potter again last night. It wasn't a good dream. I had to watch Dumbledore die again, and I had to kill. I still ended up getting captured by Death Eaters. It was not pleasant, and I woke up two hours early just so I wouldn't have to keep having a nightmare. This is how I sleep every night unless I take sleeping pills to force myself to sleep through the nightmares.