Nobody Else

Unfortunately (for me at least), I have no one else I can talk to regarding what will be written in the meat of this post.  All of the people I would lean on or depend on are either tied-up with their own lives or are so thoroughly disconnected from me that asking them for help would be like asking to borrow a hundred dollars from a stranger on the street.  I feel so utterly alone and without aid at this point that there is little keeping me from giving into the depravity that has kept me awake much of the last few weeks.  The only contention after stepping beyond that line in the sand being the decision over what way I could best dispose of myself and be quickly forgotten with the rest of the refuse I seem to have become without looking.

I am so thoroughly disgusted with myself, and so utterly pissed off at everyone and everything that I can’t even look objectively or ‘correctly’ at anything around me.  ‘Toys in the attic’ is probably an apt description given how thoroughly backwards everything looks during my bouts of anger.  Everything sets me off: someone stealing a parking spot, the weather, applications breaking without warning.  I’m constantly frustrated by my inability to lose weight, my lack of technical ability, my inability to grasp the simplest of concepts.  The person that I love the most in the world (besides my mother) even upsets me just by looking at me the wrong way.  I often fear for his safety and for my ability to control myself.  There’s a line there: one that I have yet to cross.  I know that once that line is crossed, there is no going back and that I am permanently marked and scarred for the rest of my life.  I refuse to let it come to that.  I’d rather run away than let that happen.  I would rather die and fade away than let that happen.

And yet after the anger fades, I always feel the worst.  I feel like complete and utter shit, and that I just need to get out of everyone’s life.  Everyone that even remotely knows my name or my face instantly turns into yet another burden, another person I have offended or made into an enemy… and there will never be any recourse or going back.  I feel if the weighted gaze of the world is always on me and that I am constantly being judged, constantly being compared against others.  That I have to be better, that I need to be smarter, stronger, faster.  It never ends.  I always feel as if I am on the bottom of the pile no matter what I do or how hard I try.  It’s never good enough.  Nothing is ever ‘good enough’, it’s always ‘sorry chump, you suck’.

I wish I could stop feeling like this, even just for one day.  Just to experience what it would be like to unburdened, where I could just be myself, do what I do and not feel as if I’m constantly failing at anything and everything, and make someone happy.  Truly happy, not just a simple smile and a chuckle but make someone feel content in the knowledge that they are amongst the most important parts of my life and that they literally mean more to me than life itself.  I wish I could stop fighting, stop being angry, stop choking my feelings down in the interest of peace around me… but the universe won’t give me a fucking breather so I can try and put the toys in the proverbial attic into the trash bin.  It’s always ‘wake up, go make money, stuff your face full of food, go back to making money, go to the store, buy more food so you can go back to work and make more money to eat more food’.  This cycle just so fucking infuriates me that it makes it nearly impossible for me to agree to the whole process with any level of genuine investment.

I want something different.  I don’t know what I want, but I want something different.  I want to feel less angry, I want to feel like I mean something in this fucking world, and I want to mean something to others.  I don’t just want to be ‘that angry/weird/gay/stupid guy I know’, I want to mean something to someone.  Maybe it’s time to revisit joining the military, or maybe I just need to give-in and become the hermit I predicted that I was going to become a decade ago.  I ‘called it’ in a sense a decade ago when things fell-apart for me socially and realized that I wouldn’t ever be the kind of friend that people always saw on television or had on speed-dial.  I’d be that weird guy that they’d call when they’d reached the end of their ropes… or at least the end of their contact list.  I figured just me, a small house, a bunch of books, some climbing gear, and a dog.  Everything else would be tertiary to my life.

Maybe I’ll still get there.  At the rate things are going, my life will implode in spectacular fashion in no-time flat.  Would make for a great psycho-thriller.  Guy tries way too hard, loses his mind, turns into a hermit, lives alone for the rest of his life.  Coming next summer… he is… AngryMan.

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