She is gone. Two university degrees and eight years together and she’s left me to set out on her own. While I don’t relsih becoming part of a statistic, I feel a sort of freedom.
I begin anew.
So much of my pain was from her, and yet, so were some good things. It’s over though.
She took my cat and my shower curtain.
I get to be alone. Isn’t that what I wanted? As the day approaches I’m getting more and more anxious..wanting to take it back..wanting her to stay…but that’s not really it. What I want is a life partner, to share with and love. I don’t want a parasite that feeds from my own happiness to accomplish its own.
The word reciprocate comes to mind. That and embolism.
The patriarch of my family is dying. 80 years old, lungs and spine ridden with cancer. I wonder if he still thinks smoking related deaths are a myth. Maybe he blames his own condition on something else…cellphones perhaps.
Today is another day…just breathe. just breathe
I’m not controling you, unless you’re allowing yourself to be controlled like the witless tart that you are.
Challenge my thought…rival.
I don’t argue to prove you wrong, it’s to prove me right.
How sad a day it was when we met. So in love and yet, destined for this failure.
What a crash it is.
The hair pasted to my proverbial head I wake up and face another day. Another day of popping two pills to act somewhat normal. Two pills to keep my job. One pill to make me hate sex and one to make me love it. One pill to make me fat and one to make me thin.
What happened to playing with barbies and ninja turtles? Somehow I want the ignorance and stupidity of childhood back…the care of a mother…the love of a sister. Things are so fucked now.
When am I goign to write something of value about myself? This journey to death…that’s the fucking finish line of this race, this facade…death.
We explain it away with an afterlife; there must be something more.
We justify it with a soul; there must be something more.
We lie to ourselves and are lied to; someone else must know.
Everything is earned and taken away, nothing is gained and nothing is lost. It’s all a waste of time.
Scared of hell? Me too.
I’m not depressed anymore…not wanting/trying to kill myself…but I still hate this fucking planet and what it has to offer me. I hate this life and these people…I hate you. I especially hate you if you can’t relate to what I’m writing…I hate you even more if you can.
I’m so scared of hell I can’t make myself die.
What if I’m wrong.
Just kidding.
My boss is an asshole.
Don’t get me wrong…He has good hygiene and resembles in no way a dirty smelly rectum…it’s just his attitude. I think his wife hates him and treats him like shit at home…this fuels his desire to make me into his bitch at work. Problems arise, however, because I am extremely strong willed. He pushes and I push back harder. This defeats him.
I haven’t been fired from this job…I’d say the ratio of jobs I’ve had to jobs I’ve been fired from is 5:6. Perhaps higher.
It must hurt though; living life with a cactus in your urethra.
Crisis builds…anxiety sets in…questions arise, then I start avoiding. Spending 4 days in my basement playing an over glorified online DnD. Finally it comes to a head. We fight, we makeup we fuck. Being married is great.
Never have I felt so much love for someone. Never have I felt so much Hate. Never have I been so hurt. never have I been so healed. Is the bad worth the good…if the good is so good. Good good makes the bad badder. Is there relational lithium? Level us out…so things just are. That’s a recipe for disaster right?
No Divorce she said. what would we do with the dog…with the memories of the REALLY good times. Two broken people one broken marriage…I would never leave the keyboard again…just to fuck strangers and throw smelly tissues into the toilet.
Avoiding work is an art form in our modern age. Last night I stayed up until 4am playing online games…and now I’m so exhausted that I parked the work van behind my house and went and hid inside…trying to sleep but I can’t.
Feelings of guilt? Being paid to do nothing…rather…to bitch to strangers/no one/you?
I really hate my job. People treat me like shit, I’m an intelligent programmer…but they think I’m Larry the Phone guy who comes in to hook up wires and doesn’t know fuck all about anything. What is the measure of a man?
Really…does any of that even matter if it’s not what YOU want? Why should everyone else dictate my value. What if…what I value is having my own car, house, computer, bicycle. Then I’ve fucking made it…and by comparison to many other people…I have made it. I’m sitting on the lap of luxury with my 25k a year job…but still…feel…inadequate because I don’t measure up to society’s gauge of success.
Make me feel shitty for not being a doctor/lawyer/rich man. Can I please for the fucking love of anything holy…be left alone and appreciated for whatever bastion of individuality I have left?
