I must have done something right along the way ...
Although, every night I find myself more and more like poor Raskolnikov, poor in health and spirit; not thin like Rodya but wasting away. I'm really thinking about a lot of things. I can't get my mind off the kitchen knives, or driving down to the beach right now as the sun rises and doing away with it. I won't, today, at least I'm quite sure I wont. But I really want to call a hotline. I think I will after this post.
I say I must have done something right, because Kenneth came by last night with a bag full of groceries and a gas card (for going to interviews). I told him the night before about my situation, not to really let it out or get any kind of sympathy, but because he was asking. I usually don't want to tell people what I'm feeling because if they really knew, they'd do things like this. And really, I'm not worth the trouble. I guess they seem to think I am. Maybe I don't know it, but maybe all my friends would do the same for me if they knew. I know if I had the money to spare, I'd do the same for them. But it's just buying time, really. I'm living on borrowed time.
You see, Kenneth is one of those friends from the days when I used to feel alive. I remember looking after him so many times after so many drunken nights and incredible parties. One of my earliest memories is probably him quietly puking in the early morning hours, right about now, over the ledge of our apartment's balcony. Another was after Anson and some friends played a show at a house, and babysitting Kenneth, making sure he didn't drive off drunkenly as he hurled outside his car door. Sitting with him in the cold morning summer hours, making him drink water. Looking after him. And this wasn't all we ever did, on the contrary, this was the exception, but these are just funny memories I have. We played basketball a lot, and lifted weights, talked football, and partied (before we got stupid drunk). Today he looked after me. He brought a gas card and some groceries. Of course I'll pay him back when I have some money and a job. Had I known, I would have said no .. but what's done is done. I hope I was gracious enough.
I went out 2 days ago, dropping off a ton of resumes. Applied at a few places, almost all were retailers of some sort. I don't think I'm good enough for any other kind of industry, even with my background as a boss for a couple of years. We'll see what happens. IKEA turned me down, still don't know why. I thought everything went great that interview. And I've been pestering my Video Game job about letting me know if any projects come up. They called today and when they asked if I had experience on a specific title, I said no being honest. I should have lied, but it was the first thing out of my mouth .. wish I could have retracted that. They said they'd call, but usually they want people who know a lot of games, and I didn't, so maybe I blew that one. Things are bad. Even if they got turned around, I still don't know what I'd be living for.
Veronica's on my mind again. She's the sharpest knife. I have pictures of her and myself from 5 glorious days in the summer of 2006. Every once in a while I take a look, because it kills me even more not to take a look and only imagine her. What she's doing, and who she's with, and why can't I be in her life? I know the answer to the last one, I'm not good enough, nor man enough, to have a woman like her. Even if I were there, I could never keep up this facade for very long. I'll never be man enough for anyone's sake, lover or friend. I do miss my best friend though. Her silence kills me, it always has. If there's one reason I ever wanted to leave this world, it's her. When I was a kid it was because I was sure I'd never love anyone. Later, it was because I met her and she took away what she started. I've had no one to talk to for years now. That's the worst of it all. For 3 years I worked at a terrible night job that took away all my joy, and all I had were sorrows. Just as I started those 3 years, she left my life. Now I don't have a friend to talk to about what's really going on in my head. Not about the sadness. I've talked to some of my intimates about my world philosophy. About where we all stand in time, and where we're all headed towards. But just general things. I keep it very topical. I never get into the dark side of myself. Not with family or friends. She was always to hear out my real concerns. I remember around my 30th birthday Melyna messaged me, and I basically told her I just wanted to forget about it. That's about as visibly dark I get with my friends ... "grumpy". From that she told me not to kill myself, and I just need to get through things. Clever girl, but I told her it was no big deal and it wasn't anything like that. Don't know if she really bought it. Checked myself after that, won't be divulging any more deep dark secrets again. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything to Kenneth. I definitely don't like saying anything to my parents, seeing as how guilty I already feel about them writing exorbitant checks to pay my rent while no good luck comes my way in the form of a job. I feel terrible looking them in the eye, or calling them on the phone, and asking for money. I feel like that's all our conversations have been about for months now .. about money. I remember when I put in 40 hours a week, and our conversations were a lot more pleasant, and I could visit often and have home-cooked meals for days. Now they have to drive for 2 hours, then drive me around town while they pay for food and buy me groceries, then drive back in the evening after giving me money and food. It's not the humiliation of parents taking care of you at 30, and not having built up a life or enough support for yourself so you wouldn't fall into times like these. What gets me is this unspoken conclusion that I've always been aware of, that maybe others are finally coming around to ... that I'm destined to fail. Even if I do all right for a while, and stand on my own two legs and pay my own rent and food, like I did for years ... that can only last so long. I'm destined to fail. I'm really tired of this. I want to stop dragging people down with me. I don't want people reaching into their pocketbooks for handouts or hand-ups. I want this to stop. I am Raskolnikov. While I haven't committed a crime, I guess I can be guilty of being a terrible person. Not an evil person, mind you. Just terrible at being a human.
Standing on that precipice, a thousand feet high in the air, with nothing in front and nothing behind. How long can one stand before they simply give in?
Still miss my best friend. I don't think I'll call that hotline, now that I've gotten it all out. I'll just head to sleep. Like Bill Dauterive said, it's all practice for the Big Sleep.