Daily Archives: December 25, 2017

Up from the pit

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Just woke up. Feel like used shit. So, par for the course.

So this is Christmas. Big frigging deal. The way I feel right now, I kind of wish it was just another ordinary day. I just want to hide in sleep until the whole thing is over and I can go back to my usual pathetic existence as the world’s smartest barnacle, stuck to some rock somewhere, taking in nutrients and putting out BS without making the slightlest impact on the world.

In other words, I don’t feel very good.

As is tradition, I will be having dinner with Joe’s parents tonight. Every year, they are kind enough to invite me to Christmas dinner, and I always have a good time.

Right now, however, I am terrified/. This is what I have to go through every time I have to go places and do things, and of course, the more novel the setting,m the more terrified I am,

SO every single time, I have to overcome this clutching panic that makes me want to run and hide and that makes me feel like this upcoming exposure is a hostile and brutal act, even if I know, intellectually, that I will enjoy it.

Good thing there will be liquor. It helps.

Because I know that no matter how I seem on the inside, I will be panicking on the inside for the first little while at least. Perhaps that is what I am dreading, on a deep level. Sure, I know I will chill out eventually and have a good time, but at first, I will be freaking out, and there isn’t a goddamned thing I can do about it.

And so I cling to my rock and shout “no no no!” until I am hoarse, and end up having to drag myself kicking and screaming into something I will enjoy once I get over myself.

It’s not easy to be me.

I wish I could just… heal. Free myself of all my toxins and wake up purged and clean and free of all the pollution and putrid clinging fog that makes my life so hard. It would be worth going through a period of pain and grossness and sickening horror if it meantthat at the end of it all, I was clean.

I haven’t felt truly clean in so long that it would be bliss. Like that euphoric feels you get when the fever breaks and you suddenly feel SO much better that you just lay there with a big dumb grin on your face, blissed out.

If they could sell that feeling in a bottle, they would make a billion dollars.

Oh right, they do, and it’s called Oxycontin. And there’s a lot of drawbacks.

Because life can never just give you happiness or even pleasure without exacting some kind of revenge in the form of side effects.

Not even sex can provide you with blessed release without taking its toll one way or another. You can never truly get ahead.

It’s still pretty nice, though. Or so I have heard.

That’s another lovely thing going wrong with me lately. I can’t “get there”. Every time I try to masturbate, there comes a moment when the engine suddenly cuts out and I end up giving up on the whole thing because the energy is gone and I lose all interest in the act, and end up frustrated and irritated and wishing I was healthy.

Or at least functional.

I feel so weak and helpless. Like there is nothing solid in my psyche any more. No dry land. No water, even. Just me floating in outer space, unable to generate any thrust, everything in me spilling out to form a putrid cload around me while I choke on my own fumes and squirm in pain.

The urge to turn inwards and block out reality and all its painful stimulations is strong in me right now.

Thjat’s a big part of why I want to sleep so much. Sleep is like death but without the commitment. It’s the furthest from reality I can get while alive.

It’s that, or Skyrim, which at least keeps my mind busy and thus keeps the icy violations of depression’s fetid fingers from tearing my mind apart for a while.

Idle minds are depression’s playground, after all.

Although who knows. Maybe this mental marathon of mind is both the cause and the treatment of my issues. Maybe what I really need is to spend some time away from the computer and its diverse amusements so my mind can xclear itself and get down to some serious healing without this constant mental smorgasbord to digest.

I wish I knew someone with a nice little cabin somewhere in the interior of BC where I could escape for a while with nothing but books and a computer to write on. One with absolutely nothing on it but a simple word processor.

That way, there would be nothing for me to do but read and write. I could just write and write and write until I catch up with the backlog and reach some kind of equilibrium between my interbnal pressures and the world outside my head.

Of course, from a simplistic point of  view, I could do all that right now.

But it’s not that easy. Not when I habve access to my drug of choice – video games, Skyrim in particular – in unlimited amounts right at my fingertips.

As it sits right now, I know that I can go to Skyrim and make time pass more or less pain free whenever I feel like it. And I have far too much of the escapist in me to be able to resist that for very long.

My usual maximum time without the treat in my mouth is about how long it takes for me to write one of these blog entries.

And thank goodness for them, because without these – and you, gentle reader – I would be sompletely trapped in my own mind.

And that would truly be Hell.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

 

 

 

The long dark Christmas of the soul

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You’re lucky. I almost called this entry “Smiling on the razor’s edge of oblivion*.

In fact…. what the hell….

Smiling on the razor’s edge of oblivion

The jester points a gun at his head
The clown ties a noose
The life of the the party sets his hair on fire
The gentle giant sucks on a fuse

The merry-maker makes out a will
Hey Buddy! You’re driving too slow
The happy guy ties his posoned tie
The ringmaster bleeds into snow

Another show, another piece of myself
I laugh as I watch it go
And sooner or later, there’ll be none of me left
And then, with a bow, I shall go.

Don’t worry, I am not suicidal.

But writing that made me feel better.

Perhaps my real p[roblem is that I never let my demons out into the world. My therapist keeps telling me that I should use my dark thoughts in my writing. Maybe in horror stories. He is probably right.

Might as well get some good out of them.

But first. I would need to get over my fear of abandonment. I have a terrible, soul-wrenching fear that if I am anything less than totallyh entertaining to people, they will awake frfom my spell and realize how horrible I am, and flee from me forever.

Not true, of course. But I believe it nevertheless, because some feeling cannot be overcome by logic, evidence, reasonability, or even self-interest.

They are too deep for that. Logic and reason can only access beliefs that are based, at least in part, on logic and reason.

The really deep stuff is not, and is thus inaccesssible to these powerful instruments. People believe what they need to believe, even when it’s not what they want to believe, and for me that means I find it very hard to believe that anyone wants me around.

Instead, I feel like people resent my being around at all and can’t wait for me to leave so they can go back to the wonderful world where I don’t exist and they will never ever have to deal with me again.

“Oh, thanki God that HE is gone! I could not have put up with one more minute of that guy. I seriously would have gone insane. ” 

“I know. He’s lucky he’s so pathetic. Otherwise I would have told him to fuck off ages ago. But that would be too much like kicking a puppy. ” 

“A smelly puppy who thinks everyone loves it, maybe. But yeah. Can’t stand thje guy but I could never tell him that. It wojuld be too sad. ” 

“Yup. Guess we’re stuck with him, then,. ” 

“*sigh* Yeah, I guess so. At least until we move. ” 

Ladies and gentlemen, the voices in my head.

I guess this is the year I finally give up on Xmas. I have very little Xmas spirit in me this year. In fact I am dangerously close to hating the whole fucking thing for making me feel a lot worse than usual because I am so… god damned… alone.

I mean, where does this holiday get off, making me feel horrible? It’s just some arbitrary date nowhere near Jesus’ actual birthday.

I mean we’re in Capricorn right now, and He was clearly a Pisces. The compassion, the understanding, the gentleness, the foot fetish…. it’s like really super clear.

I mean, what’s next, thinking Mars is a Leo?

But I know that, in my heart of hearts., I could never turn my back on Xmas and become one of those bitter humbuggers who treat the holiday like a bitter ex-lover.

Xmas is too me for that. All the love, family,. togetherness, compassion, open-heartedness, gentleness, and giving are totally my kind of thing. If I could invent a holiday it would be one a lot like Xmas.

But with sex.

So I might have to harden my heart against it a little in the future just to keep myself safe on these dark nights. Close some doors to keep the darkness out and thus stay out of the Bad Place where everything is dark abd cold and I can’t see or feel anything or anyone and I feel so alone that I just want to give up and leave.

But when it’s life you are trying to escape, there is only one way out, and it’s that door marked Death. And that door can be very tempting sometimes.

And that is what’s so scary about it. If it was not seductive with all its lies about how it will end all my suffering and how I will feel so much better after,

But I won’t, because I will not be here to feel anything. And it would make so many people sad if I were to die, and if it was by my own hand that would devastate absolutely everyone who knows me.

And I could never do that to them.

Suicide is such a selfish thing to do.

So I will keep going, for them and for me. Keeping going no matter what. That seems to be a speciality of mine. Trudging eternally onwards. sometimes slowing, sometimes resting on my feet. but never actually stopping.

Because iuf I stopped, I might never get going again. That’s been my fear for a very long time. That somehow, if I let it all go. I will lose all my powers and end up in the same position but without anything at all to offer the world to justify my existence.

Better to be a failed wizard than just some asshole with a sad life story.

Of course. that’s an insane thought. My gifts come from inherent strengths, not some program I have been running and hacking since birth. If anything, a cold reboot would clear a lot of useless resource-sapping background programs out of the working mameory and let me booot fresh and clean.

Now if only I could find my reset button.

Then I could finally get rid of all the static in my mind.

But then I would have to actually deal with things.

And that’s thje scariest thought of them all.

I will talk to you nice people tommorrow.

Oh, and merry xmas, everybody. I love you all/.