Loopy
Man, I need to get myself in check. I think I've been secretly brooding since I started this road trip, and now that I have nothing to complain about, my anger is bursting out at the littlest deviation from some structured plan. It's not pretty, but at the same time, I kinda knew that the road trip wouldn't be as fun with somebody along with me.
I need to be alone for a bit and remember who I am, or maybe I just function best whilst alone, or perhaps, just perhaps, I need to get away from those who cause stress. The last one has generally been the solution to my seemingly random anger. Being out west is helpful though; being in Great Falls and Spokane gives me a wee bit of hope that living out here could be fun. People are engaging; they say nice things to each other. It also greatly surprises me that almost every girl is cute as hell. There are no imitators of reality shows out here, and I am very grateful. However, I am still bringing along a remnant of my stress, still someone trying to shape me. I am still resisting, and I blew up yesterday when she asked me to take a picture. That's it, a simple picture. And I didn't want to. I vehemently declined, but she kept pushing. It's not that I hate pictures or fun or whatever (maybe a camera murdered my father), I just don't want to have proof of this trip. It's screaming in my face: "HAAYYY! Remember that time when your sister took advantage of your trip across the country and you were absolutely miserable for five days?" I don't want memories of this trip. Once my sister signed on, it stopped being fun and turned into a means to an end. What was she going to contribute? She can't make me laugh. She offered to pay, but the gov't is picking up the tab. She can't drive stick. What the fuck?! What benefit would I gain from this?
And here I sit, getting pestered to take a picture. One single, measly picture, and I, for the life of me, cannot generate any motivation to do so. This isn't me. I don't do petty shit like that. This is clearly an indicator that I have some deep, unresolved issues right now, and my sister is definitely not the therapist.
One possibility I've considered is that I'm projecting my failure experienced at Prototype onto my family and friends. And don't bullshit me about not being a failure because I still feel like one. For the last two years I've been wasting precious time, time that should be spent looking for relationships and developing normal social skills. Instead, I used my job as an excuse to play video games and do everything else except look for a girlfriend. That's a part of my life that I'm ashamed of. Granted, if the girls are this pretty out in Seattle, I'll probably have more motivation to go out and meet people. Right now, though, I feel like a failure, and I look at other people, and when they're unhappy, I get angry. I want to scream at them, "Do not end up like me!" I want them to take every opportunity they can, but they aren't. They're missing out on life, and it makes me angry because I'm missing out on life. It's just silly old me yelling at people for the problems I have. It's stupid and despicable, and it makes me yell even more.
Another possibility is that I need to be around successful people to feel successful. I come home from Prototype, angry as all hell, and what do I have to greet me? Mom, still slow. Julie, still sad and still fucking arguing with Grace. I guess Alice has finally come around to building instead of destroying, and she is going to seminary school, so that's good. Dad's still the same, and the house is still in disarray. Tasha is still a dumb dog. I cannot feel comfortable around them for some reason. I don't know from where this hatred came!
Tim's still a barista at Atwater's, but he at least is studying for the GRE's, but the next few years have him scheduled to stay exactly where he is. And you, Heather, something at work or your personal life is making you extremely defensive, and it's difficult to have fun around you. Everything I say must have a comment or an explanation, it seems, and sometimes, I just want to be silly.
This time around the home, all I can remember is sadness. That pains me, since I can clearly remember times that were fun, such as Franksgiving and drinking at CP, but they've all been colored a muted blue that I've determined is a bit suffocating when I think about it. And I bet you want to challenge me! You want to say that I'm wrong, that those times were fun, and that I just need to lighten up, or get laid. And I say thanks, but you've offered nothing that my neurotic brain hasn't thought of. I feel this way for a good reason, and as I've learned from past experiences, the worst thing I can do to myself is deny that my feelings are valid.
I saw people that weren't improving themselves, which is normally fine, but only under the circumstance that you are happy! If you are unhappy with your life, you have a responsibility to yourself to make it better! I just didn't smell success, and I didn't feel comfortable enough to open myself up to people back at home.
And of course, the third possibility is that I've magically altered my personality to be a constant douchebaggled irritation to everyone, which may be entirely true, in which case I should break out the hair gel and tanning bed and turn myself into a Jersey boy because let's face it, that's irreversible.
So could everyone just back off for a little bit? Let me come back to you on my own time. If you take anything from this, please know that the more you try to control and rope me in, the more I will break free and ultimately end up hating you. And don't break my car. Please, she's all I have left right now.
Oh, and I'm probably depressed right now, so I'll need some time to recover from that as well...
I need to be alone for a bit and remember who I am, or maybe I just function best whilst alone, or perhaps, just perhaps, I need to get away from those who cause stress. The last one has generally been the solution to my seemingly random anger. Being out west is helpful though; being in Great Falls and Spokane gives me a wee bit of hope that living out here could be fun. People are engaging; they say nice things to each other. It also greatly surprises me that almost every girl is cute as hell. There are no imitators of reality shows out here, and I am very grateful. However, I am still bringing along a remnant of my stress, still someone trying to shape me. I am still resisting, and I blew up yesterday when she asked me to take a picture. That's it, a simple picture. And I didn't want to. I vehemently declined, but she kept pushing. It's not that I hate pictures or fun or whatever (maybe a camera murdered my father), I just don't want to have proof of this trip. It's screaming in my face: "HAAYYY! Remember that time when your sister took advantage of your trip across the country and you were absolutely miserable for five days?" I don't want memories of this trip. Once my sister signed on, it stopped being fun and turned into a means to an end. What was she going to contribute? She can't make me laugh. She offered to pay, but the gov't is picking up the tab. She can't drive stick. What the fuck?! What benefit would I gain from this?
And here I sit, getting pestered to take a picture. One single, measly picture, and I, for the life of me, cannot generate any motivation to do so. This isn't me. I don't do petty shit like that. This is clearly an indicator that I have some deep, unresolved issues right now, and my sister is definitely not the therapist.
One possibility I've considered is that I'm projecting my failure experienced at Prototype onto my family and friends. And don't bullshit me about not being a failure because I still feel like one. For the last two years I've been wasting precious time, time that should be spent looking for relationships and developing normal social skills. Instead, I used my job as an excuse to play video games and do everything else except look for a girlfriend. That's a part of my life that I'm ashamed of. Granted, if the girls are this pretty out in Seattle, I'll probably have more motivation to go out and meet people. Right now, though, I feel like a failure, and I look at other people, and when they're unhappy, I get angry. I want to scream at them, "Do not end up like me!" I want them to take every opportunity they can, but they aren't. They're missing out on life, and it makes me angry because I'm missing out on life. It's just silly old me yelling at people for the problems I have. It's stupid and despicable, and it makes me yell even more.
Another possibility is that I need to be around successful people to feel successful. I come home from Prototype, angry as all hell, and what do I have to greet me? Mom, still slow. Julie, still sad and still fucking arguing with Grace. I guess Alice has finally come around to building instead of destroying, and she is going to seminary school, so that's good. Dad's still the same, and the house is still in disarray. Tasha is still a dumb dog. I cannot feel comfortable around them for some reason. I don't know from where this hatred came!
Tim's still a barista at Atwater's, but he at least is studying for the GRE's, but the next few years have him scheduled to stay exactly where he is. And you, Heather, something at work or your personal life is making you extremely defensive, and it's difficult to have fun around you. Everything I say must have a comment or an explanation, it seems, and sometimes, I just want to be silly.
This time around the home, all I can remember is sadness. That pains me, since I can clearly remember times that were fun, such as Franksgiving and drinking at CP, but they've all been colored a muted blue that I've determined is a bit suffocating when I think about it. And I bet you want to challenge me! You want to say that I'm wrong, that those times were fun, and that I just need to lighten up, or get laid. And I say thanks, but you've offered nothing that my neurotic brain hasn't thought of. I feel this way for a good reason, and as I've learned from past experiences, the worst thing I can do to myself is deny that my feelings are valid.
I saw people that weren't improving themselves, which is normally fine, but only under the circumstance that you are happy! If you are unhappy with your life, you have a responsibility to yourself to make it better! I just didn't smell success, and I didn't feel comfortable enough to open myself up to people back at home.
And of course, the third possibility is that I've magically altered my personality to be a constant douchebaggled irritation to everyone, which may be entirely true, in which case I should break out the hair gel and tanning bed and turn myself into a Jersey boy because let's face it, that's irreversible.
So could everyone just back off for a little bit? Let me come back to you on my own time. If you take anything from this, please know that the more you try to control and rope me in, the more I will break free and ultimately end up hating you. And don't break my car. Please, she's all I have left right now.
Oh, and I'm probably depressed right now, so I'll need some time to recover from that as well...