(no subject)
I need a healthy channel for release of an overwhelming feeling. I want to call it anger, but that wouldn't be fully true. This is an instance where I can deal without precision, but accuracy is no less important. It all revolves around my interactions of late with people, specifically a recent pattern where people disappear, don't return calls, or make promises and fail to keep them. I've been trying to make some new friends...I meet someone I get along with and might want to get to know better, I get the impression the feeling is mutual. Plans are made, and then don't come to fruition, as if they never actually wanted to in the first place, and it frustrates me to no end. I am thankful for my limited ability to take hints, but I just wish I didn't have to. I'll take a thousand "no's" over a false "yes". Before I accuse myself of hypocrisy, I know I'm not perfect, but I try to be, I really do. I try not to slight people, or ditch them, but I'm prone to it. When it happens, I really do make an effort to convey my regret and make amends. When I stifle this feeling, or try and process it internally, it manifests as depression or a crippling frustration, neither of which feel very good or bring me any closer to where I want to be. Drugs and alcohol have numbed the sensation, but not always well and it always returns. (A sidebar, and something I am happy for myself for is that I am on my eleventh day of abstinence from my crutch of marijuana intake. Smoking pot in and of itself isn't bad, and has suppressed my glaucoma, but it I realized had long since been a crutch. I'm almost looking forward to the return of the headaches, because at least the debilitation they cause will be real and justified) When I talk about it here, it is little more than whining, which is just fucking annoying. When a person demonstrates the pattern, it wouldn't be fair for me to take it out on them, because he or she is just one person and it's the pattern that's affecting me so adversely, not the individual. It also seems pointless to take any one individual to task, because, if they acted that way, then they probably don't give that much of a shit anyway, and I don't want to waste my words or their time. Much as I'd like to, I can't give a stern "you hurt my feelings" talk to the entire world. I know I'd deserve a few stern words back, and lord I'd love to hear them, but no-one's talking. I used to think I was the only thing that existed, and it was a lot easier becasue I was never lonely. I used to be quite a misanthrope, and that was a lot easier too. I didn't care if I hurt someone, and if per-chance my feelings were hurt, it only reinforced my contempt. Something changed all that, and it sometimes feels like the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I know, that I have earned this feeling. I wear it, but not with pride. I've caused a lot of pain and estranged some of the most important people in my life. Can one make one's bed while lying in it?
Sometimes I want to delete this journal, un-install AIM from my computers and skip my cell-phone across a lake; but it would feel like giving up. At the same time, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is how I define insanity. It's just, if I'm going to be lonely, maybe I should just be alone.
Historically, fucking has been one of the most effective anaesthetics for this condition. Dirty, depraved, kinky sex. That's inappropriate here too, or feels that way, even though I want it, badly. I'm not sleeping with anybody, and the perversity I'm craving is the kind of sex you can't (shouldn't?) have with someone you don't love intensely; even if just as a person as opposed to romantically. I really do need to get laid though. Not just laid. Overwhelmed. Head so good it would make you cry.
Anyway, enough of that.
Reading back on this, even to me it sounds like the demented ravings of the mentally ill. Scattered, incomplete. But that's the way it goes. It's arranged and organized in my head, loses much of the arrangement when I try and speak of it, and by the time it hits the written word its barely intelligible.
I've made so many good changes lately, so it is a bit confusing that I feel worse. Probably just that. since there afre fewer things to stress about, the ones that are left get more attention, and with a clearer head I can stress them so much more efficiently. Makes one want to up and say fuck progress and steer back towards bottom. But again, I won't.
This is the point where I hear the voice of a good friend tell me to relax. She's the only one who I can ever take that advice from. And she's right. I'm cutting myself off here and going for a walk.
I know, that I have earned this feeling. I wear it, but not with pride. I've caused a lot of pain and estranged some of the most important people in my life. Can one make one's bed while lying in it?
Sometimes I want to delete this journal, un-install AIM from my computers and skip my cell-phone across a lake; but it would feel like giving up. At the same time, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is how I define insanity. It's just, if I'm going to be lonely, maybe I should just be alone.
Historically, fucking has been one of the most effective anaesthetics for this condition. Dirty, depraved, kinky sex. That's inappropriate here too, or feels that way, even though I want it, badly. I'm not sleeping with anybody, and the perversity I'm craving is the kind of sex you can't (shouldn't?) have with someone you don't love intensely; even if just as a person as opposed to romantically. I really do need to get laid though. Not just laid. Overwhelmed. Head so good it would make you cry.
Anyway, enough of that.
Reading back on this, even to me it sounds like the demented ravings of the mentally ill. Scattered, incomplete. But that's the way it goes. It's arranged and organized in my head, loses much of the arrangement when I try and speak of it, and by the time it hits the written word its barely intelligible.
I've made so many good changes lately, so it is a bit confusing that I feel worse. Probably just that. since there afre fewer things to stress about, the ones that are left get more attention, and with a clearer head I can stress them so much more efficiently. Makes one want to up and say fuck progress and steer back towards bottom. But again, I won't.
This is the point where I hear the voice of a good friend tell me to relax. She's the only one who I can ever take that advice from. And she's right. I'm cutting myself off here and going for a walk.