Waaaahmbulance etc.
In less than a week this journal will turn three years old. And to celebrate, I'm going to do lots and lots of old-school style bitching. I apologize in advance, but then, I think maybe YOU should apologize for reading my secret diary.
...christ, where to begin? It's 4:30 and I'm still wide awake, but not from a lack of trying. These last fews days I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've realized that at this point, the best thing I can probably do for myself is write my thoughts down. Or commit suicide. jay backslash kay.
The long and short of it is that right now I am experiencing, far and away, the worst period of my life. So far. I know that every year for the past four years has been "the worst year of my life" but I think this says less about my ability to view the world objectively than it does about the fact that life is getting progressively worse and worse. And now, sitting up in bed at 4:30 AM, I realize that all my previous angst may have been nothing, almost illusory, compared to this. Because it's not about wailing or gnashing teeth anymore. It's not teen melodramatics. It's just this slow, steady sinking that doesn't end, a heavy weight tied around the pit of my stomach. I have never felt worse.
This is going to be a long entry. You ought to grab a snack.
I've always been vaguely depressed in some way or another. Everyone knows that by now. And I've had a pretty easy life, which makes my depression worse because in addition to a general sense of malaise and inferiority I've got Rich White American guilt on top of all that. I've got enough anxiety without living with the knowledge that Bono wants to kick my ass. But things have changed, and the only way to straighten out this mess is to go back to the beginning.
When high school ended, I was ecstatic. I was genuinely looking forward to what life had in store. School, it seemed, was an unecessary burden that placed needless stress on me when I needed it least. I was glad to leave and had high hopes for starting film school in the fall. I promised myself I wouldn't miss those four years of open-heart surgery. And to an extent, I still don't. But what I failed to take into consideration was that high school had a huge social safety net. I was always depressed that I didn't have a lot of friends (and spent even more time beating myself up over not having a girlfriend: there I fucking admitted it), and yeah, I really didn't. I had friends of necessity. Single-serving friends for you Fight Club faggots. But it never dawned on me that once the new school year started up, everyone I knew would be moving away. And then I'd be on my own.
But hey! I'd be starting college too! I'd make friends just like they would, get social, get active, go out, have fun, sing Beach Boys songs backwards or whatever kids do. Didn't happen. My film school fucking sucks. There's about 20 people TOTAL in the whole school and only one person I'd hang out with outside of class. So that completely fell through, and about 70% of my social contacts dispersed throughout the country. Meanwhile, my job satisfaction at the theatre was going to shit. The novelty of cleaning up popcorn for pissy Hebrews at a rate of 6.00 USD/hour was running thin and most of the people I liked were gone. So I left, looking forward to starting up my new job at Lucky's.
And Lucky's filled me with greater hope than film school. It was huge; a massive restaraunt/bar/arcade/bowling alley/pool hall/lounge. Tons of employees+fun atmosphere=Aaron makes some new friends. Bussing tables wasn't fun, but it made excellent money, to the point at which I was looking at it as a job I could take with me to LA when I make my inevitable journey west.
So naturally they fired me. Who "they" is, I don't know. No manager took responsibility for my firing, though it's been implied that one or more coworkers bitched about my performance and that was that. I don't know what exactly I did wrong or why I got fired or who fired me, but the point is I'm not completely jobless.
Of course, shortly before I was fired my dad died. AIDS. I had no idea he even fucking had AIDS. He just told me he was ill. So then bam, my dad's dead and he left absolutely nothing behind that I didn't have to legally wrench from his cold dead hands. So in addition to nearly daily trips down to his home in Royal Oak (a 40-minute drive, one way) I'm entangled in a legal battle with a corpse as I savor the sweet irony of being fucked up the ass so hard by a man who died of being fucked up the ass. And now the legal end's tied up and things are just now dying down on the house. We close tomorrow. Or today.
And while all this is happening, my relationship with my mom is completely dissolving. Prior to my dad's death it was becoming abundantly clear my mom was a stupid person. Not stupid in that OMG MY MOM IS SOOOOOO STUPID way, but stupid in that "Jesus christ, I want out of this hellhole" way. Stupid in that "if I met you on the streets, I'd make a funny anecdote of you". Head banging stupidity. Complicating issues is that the recent post-death workload has made an utter, utter bitch of her, and she's so stupid she can't even tell I'm depressed so she just yells at me more. That's what I hate about her most, I think. No cognitive reasoning capabilities. No "Aaron's hurting, leave him alone" reflex. Just singleminded middle Americana. I think I might hate her. I know I hated my dad.
Then David got up and moved to New York. Fucker.
I think that's what lead to tonight. It's the combination of all those things--my depression, my loneliness, my dad's death, my disappointment with college, my mom, my health, my firing, my complete isolation. I've never felt more alone, but what makes this so excruciatingly painful is that all my other friends are enjoying themselves so much. Last night I checked my Live Journal for the first time in a year. David, Pat, Roger, Sean, Katie, everyone from the UA, fuck, even Katherine are all having the time of their lives. They're living the life I've always dreamed of, that incredibly brief window of life between being a teenager and being an adult, that split second when the scales of freedom and responsibility are completely even. And while I was hoping this year would bring me closer to that dream, it's only brought me further down. I'm glad all my friends are happy, but now I know the truth. I know I'll never be like them and that thinking otherwise is delusional. Now all the hope is gone, and all that's left is complete and utter misery.
My bed is very cold tonight.
...christ, where to begin? It's 4:30 and I'm still wide awake, but not from a lack of trying. These last fews days I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've realized that at this point, the best thing I can probably do for myself is write my thoughts down. Or commit suicide. jay backslash kay.
The long and short of it is that right now I am experiencing, far and away, the worst period of my life. So far. I know that every year for the past four years has been "the worst year of my life" but I think this says less about my ability to view the world objectively than it does about the fact that life is getting progressively worse and worse. And now, sitting up in bed at 4:30 AM, I realize that all my previous angst may have been nothing, almost illusory, compared to this. Because it's not about wailing or gnashing teeth anymore. It's not teen melodramatics. It's just this slow, steady sinking that doesn't end, a heavy weight tied around the pit of my stomach. I have never felt worse.
This is going to be a long entry. You ought to grab a snack.
I've always been vaguely depressed in some way or another. Everyone knows that by now. And I've had a pretty easy life, which makes my depression worse because in addition to a general sense of malaise and inferiority I've got Rich White American guilt on top of all that. I've got enough anxiety without living with the knowledge that Bono wants to kick my ass. But things have changed, and the only way to straighten out this mess is to go back to the beginning.
When high school ended, I was ecstatic. I was genuinely looking forward to what life had in store. School, it seemed, was an unecessary burden that placed needless stress on me when I needed it least. I was glad to leave and had high hopes for starting film school in the fall. I promised myself I wouldn't miss those four years of open-heart surgery. And to an extent, I still don't. But what I failed to take into consideration was that high school had a huge social safety net. I was always depressed that I didn't have a lot of friends (and spent even more time beating myself up over not having a girlfriend: there I fucking admitted it), and yeah, I really didn't. I had friends of necessity. Single-serving friends for you Fight Club faggots. But it never dawned on me that once the new school year started up, everyone I knew would be moving away. And then I'd be on my own.
But hey! I'd be starting college too! I'd make friends just like they would, get social, get active, go out, have fun, sing Beach Boys songs backwards or whatever kids do. Didn't happen. My film school fucking sucks. There's about 20 people TOTAL in the whole school and only one person I'd hang out with outside of class. So that completely fell through, and about 70% of my social contacts dispersed throughout the country. Meanwhile, my job satisfaction at the theatre was going to shit. The novelty of cleaning up popcorn for pissy Hebrews at a rate of 6.00 USD/hour was running thin and most of the people I liked were gone. So I left, looking forward to starting up my new job at Lucky's.
And Lucky's filled me with greater hope than film school. It was huge; a massive restaraunt/bar/arcade/bowling alley/pool hall/lounge. Tons of employees+fun atmosphere=Aaron makes some new friends. Bussing tables wasn't fun, but it made excellent money, to the point at which I was looking at it as a job I could take with me to LA when I make my inevitable journey west.
So naturally they fired me. Who "they" is, I don't know. No manager took responsibility for my firing, though it's been implied that one or more coworkers bitched about my performance and that was that. I don't know what exactly I did wrong or why I got fired or who fired me, but the point is I'm not completely jobless.
Of course, shortly before I was fired my dad died. AIDS. I had no idea he even fucking had AIDS. He just told me he was ill. So then bam, my dad's dead and he left absolutely nothing behind that I didn't have to legally wrench from his cold dead hands. So in addition to nearly daily trips down to his home in Royal Oak (a 40-minute drive, one way) I'm entangled in a legal battle with a corpse as I savor the sweet irony of being fucked up the ass so hard by a man who died of being fucked up the ass. And now the legal end's tied up and things are just now dying down on the house. We close tomorrow. Or today.
And while all this is happening, my relationship with my mom is completely dissolving. Prior to my dad's death it was becoming abundantly clear my mom was a stupid person. Not stupid in that OMG MY MOM IS SOOOOOO STUPID way, but stupid in that "Jesus christ, I want out of this hellhole" way. Stupid in that "if I met you on the streets, I'd make a funny anecdote of you". Head banging stupidity. Complicating issues is that the recent post-death workload has made an utter, utter bitch of her, and she's so stupid she can't even tell I'm depressed so she just yells at me more. That's what I hate about her most, I think. No cognitive reasoning capabilities. No "Aaron's hurting, leave him alone" reflex. Just singleminded middle Americana. I think I might hate her. I know I hated my dad.
Then David got up and moved to New York. Fucker.
I think that's what lead to tonight. It's the combination of all those things--my depression, my loneliness, my dad's death, my disappointment with college, my mom, my health, my firing, my complete isolation. I've never felt more alone, but what makes this so excruciatingly painful is that all my other friends are enjoying themselves so much. Last night I checked my Live Journal for the first time in a year. David, Pat, Roger, Sean, Katie, everyone from the UA, fuck, even Katherine are all having the time of their lives. They're living the life I've always dreamed of, that incredibly brief window of life between being a teenager and being an adult, that split second when the scales of freedom and responsibility are completely even. And while I was hoping this year would bring me closer to that dream, it's only brought me further down. I'm glad all my friends are happy, but now I know the truth. I know I'll never be like them and that thinking otherwise is delusional. Now all the hope is gone, and all that's left is complete and utter misery.
My bed is very cold tonight.