Also : The long gray hell.

I’m Canadian. Both are fine.

Been quite depressed today. That feeling of my energies pouring out of me whenver I try to gather my motivation has returned. I feel heavy and fragile and disgusting.

I feel like if an animal bit me, it would die of poisoning. That if I spit in the reservoir, thousands would get sick. That if I took a dump in the forest, everything within a mile of it would die from the lichen to the deer.

And a tiny part of me wants that kind of thing to happen. My suffocating id wants something big, toxic, and horrifyingly deadly to happen as a result of my releasing my inner pain into the world. It wants to unleash pain and suffering and dying terrified and confused unto the world just to express the pain and suffering and dying inside me and force the world to fucking notice how much fucking pain I am in.

It would be like an emo apocalpyse.

Or maybe I will just go Godzilla sized and rampage through the Lower Mainland, screaming out my rage and pain as I rip shit apart, stomp on moving cars, take out helicopters with my toxic breath attack, and finally show the world that I am alive and I exist and they are going to have to factor me into their equations from now on.

I clearly have some serious fucking issues.

But the thing is, I am all too aware of the irony of my situation because as much as I am mad about being ignored and neglected and been made to feel like I don’t even exist for my whole life, I also know that I played a huge part in that by hiding away.

I’ve very good at that. I have mastered the art of hiding away from absolutely everything and thus becoming invisible to the world. If the world fails to notice or validate me, it’s because I have been actively avoiding its notice for a very long time.

Not that I have a choice. Anxiety and depression force this kind of living on me. Only this level of isolation can keep those hungry hounds at bay.

I can’t handle it out in the big ol world with all its noise and light and unpredictability. It’s all just too damned loud, on every level, via every stimulus. Part of my deep weakness and fragility is this extremely low physical and social stimulation tolerance, like I am a member of the House of Usher.

And it forces me to live in a cage.

Despite all my rage.

And I want things to be different. I want to be strong. I want to go out there and face my fears and get used to the world and get over myself and get healthy.

But all that requires a kind of traction that I just don’t have right now. I can’t push forward because there is nothing to push against. The best I can do is tread water in an endless sea hoping to one day find dry land again.

Until then, I am helpless, hopeless, and ready to drown.

Been sleeping a lot today. I would love to be able to say that it was because I had no choice like yesterday afternoon, but nope. This was depressive sleep, what people are calling “depression napping” on the internet these days.

It’s a lot like depressive eating, or an other form of self-medication. I sleep to escape reality. I sleep to survive time. When faced with hours and hours of empty worthless time in every day, I hibernate instead.

It’s so much easier than actually dealing with things.

Not better. Just easier.

Still can’t make myself cum. I can get real close but somehow the magic moment of healthy squirts never happens. And yet I am still horny so I have to keep trying.

I think I liked it better when I was less horny. I don’t know how to deal with such a demanding libido. It would be one thing if I was emotionally healthy. Then I could just use a hookup app like Grindr or go to the baths or whatever.

But I am too fucked up for that. Every option available is smashed to pieces on the rocky shores and coral reefs of my intense interpersonal issues.

As much as I really crave cock right now – my mouth is watering as we speak – when I try to imagine any of the ways I would actually acquire access to some, that ice cold fear envelops my soul and freezes me to the spot.

I can’t imagine hooking up with some stranger I don’t even know. I have trouble doing far less intimate things with people I don’t know.

To be honest. I don’t even like sharing an elevator with strangers. Not that there’s anything wrong with them – it just strains my resistance to my own neuroses.

It takes effort to hold the forces that say everyone hates me and finds me repulsive at bay, even for as short a time as a three minute elevator ride.

The baths are out, too. The one time I went to one, it was practically deserted and os I did not get overstimulated.

In either direction.

If it was crowded and loud, I would not stand a chance. And it would have to be crowded for there to be the kind of sexual access I crave.

I have this fantasy where I go to some place with a busy men’s room, like a mall, and take over a stall, and put a sign on the door that reads, “Free Blowjobs! Inquire Within!” on the door, then sit down on the bowl and wait for customers.

It’s ingenious, really.  If someone opens that door, I know exactly why. Therefore, I have a role. I am the crazy guy offering to suck any dick that opens that door.

Why do you think I call them customers? It’s the ultimate customer service job.

I assume that I would get kiicked out eventually. That’s not the sort of thing any public institution wants to be known for.

I might even get arrested, although I wonder what the charge would be.

After all, it’s not prostitution. I’m not charging anything.

And you know what would be the best part of being arrested?

The trial would be HILARIOUS. Imagine all those stuffy legal types turning red as a beet as they describe my crime.

Imagine my fun as I completely refuse to show the slightest bit of shame and in fact treat the whole thing as a simple misunderstanding about something perfecly innocent and act like I have no idea what the fuss was about.

Might even make it into the news cycle. It would certainly be lurid enough.

It would be a hell of a thing to be famous for. I get tingles just thinking about it.

Now excuse me while I lie down and talk myself out of this.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.