The more time I spend alone the more I crave it, the more I feel like I need it. But what do I do alone? I dance, sure. I have bizarre fantasies that involve sex and glory. I masturbate. Sometimes too much. I enjoy alone time to an unhealthy degree.
I’m sad for humanity. This love that I keep believing exists, doesn’t exist here yet. And I’m surely no perpetuator of it.
The more time I spend alone, the less tolerance I have for other people. I feel like I’m addicted to my own thoughts, which aren’t even expressed in words most of the time, but subtle vibrations of “noise” that has no discernable language but radiates from my skull and darts from my eyes.
I’m sad. I’m sad because I continue to hurt others. If I lock myself away in this padded cell, if I play pretend in this asylum, will I finally be free?
I’m severely depressed, but you guys know that. I go on and on about it every couple of months. I’ve never been so miserable in my life. I hate living here, but at the same time I love it. I don’t know what it is that I’m missing, maybe nothing at all – a proper dance studio would be nice.
Everyday I want to die. That’s not an exaggeration. Everyday I wonder why I’m still here. Seriously, what is the point?
I wanted to create something that would accurately represent the essence of me that I felt I never shared with the world. That’s why this blog is here. That’s why I acted out mAAd TV. That’s why I continue with【DDR EXOTIC】. I know no one really cares. I know there are dozens of women who are professional-olympic-level pole dancers and compete. I know there are strippers who have bigger breasts and a better body. I know there are gymnasts who can actually tumble and flip and have tricep and back strength I currently do not possess.
I’m thinking about doing an enema today, because my bulimia demands it.
The relationship wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. He turned his phone off which I thought he would never do. I thought he would always be there. Then he left the place we met and made it so that he could never return. I have half a mind to reach out, but I have whole mind to know that’s not a good idea.
Like I said, I keep hurting people.
But people hurt me too.
I know, but bear with me.
2 responses to “I know, but bear with me.”
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What do you mean when you say “Then he left the place we met and made it so that he could never return”? That sounds rough.
I care about you and what happens to you even though we will never meet.
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There was a book I finished yesterday called, “The Courage to be Happy” and is a sequel to the book “The Courage to be Disliked.” The book is an elaboration of Alderian Psychology which puts the self at the center of focus and pretty much ignores external locus of control and forces the person to confront their own shortcomings by accepting their responsibility in their life in a way that isn’t blame-shifting or even good/bad but a more matter-of-fact approach to distress. I bring this up because it mentions that in Freudian psychology we focus so much on trying to determine why we feel/do/think certain things, why we behave the way we do and why we made the decisions that we do, however, it’s mostly a farce. We can’t determine the cause/effect relationship of our psycholgy and we’re chasing our tail in an attempt to alleviate our suffering by focusing on things that essentially don’t matter. A prime example of this is finding an abuser or a bad guy and attempting to resolve your unease by making them the center of your unhappiness. The “my ex was abusive” is an example of this. That’s not to say that your claims on your ex don’t have merit or that they’re false, but that the focus should be on what you want to do for now, and not what has happened in the past. Rehashing the conversations with my ex and attempting to find the “why” in all of it is futile, essentially.
He left our home and never returned. I blame him for leaving me stranded here with no friends and family forcing me to restart my life again and this time in a situation that’s harder than I’ve ever experienced. He abandoned me. He went back to Pennsylvania and left me here in Virginia. I have no family or ties to Virginia at all, and was severely depressed from isolation and homesickness. I would just get angry and blame him. We know that moving here was ultimately my choice. My car broke down the two times I attempted to drive back to Las Vegas and now I’ve sold the car entirely for parts and have no car at all. I still have twinges of “fuck him, this is his fault” but it’s no one’s fault really. I didn’t anticipate it would end so disastrously. I didn’t anticipate losing my car and some form of independence I had. I was simply following my feelings without a plan – something I do and continue to do throughout my life which has caused a lot of unnecessary setbacks. I think I’ve learned my lesson this time but man this was a hell of a setback.
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