Using Words As Blunt Instruments

this weekend, among other things, i went to the movies. i saw spongebob, and it was great. i enjoyed it thoroughly. however, i went out alone, and with no one to demand my attention, i was left with nothing standing between me and the masses of humanity.

here's what i think about humanity: FUCK HUMANITY!!!

no really, FUCK IT! fuck it RIGHT IN THE EAR! there are few things i hate so much as people, just out there, doing things. and granted, i'm in a really bad mood right now, but i'm not stopping. i think people suck. i think there are too many. i think we should go on a program of weeding out the unecessaries. i think the U.N. should establish tests for those who would have children, and if they don't pass, they don't have kids. if you have unregistered children, they will be taken away from you and given to someone who passed the test, and you will be slapped with a MASSIVE fine. and possibly sterilized.

i am tired of people. i am miserable, and profoundly unhappy. and therefore, i would like to go on a program to make everyone else miserable. not the five people who i actually like... you all know who you are. you're the people i talk to AT ALL!!! because i HATE wasting my time on STUPID, STUPID PEOPLE. you are not stupid; you make my life a better place and make me want to practice acts of love and compassion. mostly, i just want to howl wordlessly at the people who have contributed to my current state.

not that that would solve anything. screaming my head off is not productive, and that's probably part of why i don't do it. but i can write about wanting to scream my head off, and god damn it, i will!

things with wolfie have officially dissolved. he is too busy to give me the time of day. when someone tells you they have to get off the phone so they can take a nap so they can go out with their friends later, well, they're not interested in you. so fuck it. i was actually doing pretty well with this, and treating it as a matter of the two of us not being in places that allowed anything to happen. which is true. but i also want to send him an e-mail, or leave him a message, that says FUCK YOU! i won't, but it would be sorta funny. and just sort of sad.

to all you normal people out there: i am so jealous of you sometimes that i swear to god i could just kill you. i don't want to be bent out of shape about this. but its hard not to be. i'm really just not healthy enough to be in any sort of relationship right now. i think i've decided that i'm going to stop trying. i can't do it anymore. right now, the process of trying to connect with anyone is way too much. i'm so unhappy, and looking for so much that's missing in my life, that every person who shows the inkling of being cool is shouldered with all my needs and desires. cuz that's really fair to do to anyone...

i think i'm done. i think i'm going to stop pretending to try and meet people, or better my social situation, or any of that. i think i'm going to go to work (which makes me physically ill... no really, i think there's a lot of pollen in the air out here or something.), go to the gym, and try and make plans to get out of here. i think i'm going to talk to people as little as possible. i think i'll make a point of shrieking in horror if someone dares touch me, or accidentally brushes my shoulder as we walk past each other.

i'm sick of it. i'm sick and tired of feeling like a broken machine, with that one little gear that turns lazily over and over, but isn't connected to anything. and if i can't fix myself, then i'm going to fix my situation. people are difficult, so i'm going to delete them from my life. which is OH SO HAPPY AND HEALTHY! GEE! WHAT A BRILLIANT DECISION! I WONDER WHY I DIDN'T THINK OF IT BEFORE! maybe because before, i was at least pretending to not be a SUICIDALLY DEPRESSED SOCIOPATH!

i'm just, so tired. all i want to do is sleep. which yes, is a symptom of depression. i just want to pedal on the stairmaster until i dissolve away into nothing. i will not drink alcohol, even though my twenty-eight days are up. i'm tired of smoking cigarettes; they make my mind all funky, and keep me from being able to think right. and i don't like weed anymore, because all it does is make me lazy and forgetful. i don't want anything in my body. i need to be a miserable, anxious, hardwired, impregnable little fortress, all the better to keep me safe from the outside. i sound like a frickin' CRAZY PERSON! yes, i'm aware of that.

i just want to get out of here. it will probably help me feel better. i just need to get out of this situation, where it feels like i'm dying every day. i need to get out. i need to get out so bad... and perhaps that's exactly what i'll do. perhaps we'll be moving my departure date up to the beginning of this summer. maybe i can register for some summer school courses in nyc, and just move on up to jersey in may. perhaps thats what has to happen.

because lemme tell you; things aren't working out so well down here. i bet you figured that out already...

i want to beat people's brains out with the force of my words. i want to scream so loud inside their heads that their little skulls just pop right open, and gobbets of brain spatter out across the ceiling. i want, for a second, to feel like i have something in common with someone out there. i want my experience to have something in common with those of other people. i need to know that this too shall pass, and that in fact, others have been here and survived. and i don't want to calm down, and i don't want to change the way i function fundamentally. i like the way i am, i'm just unsure of how what i percieve as normal ends with me feeling so unhappy. because other people aren't that way. other people seem... happy.

i don't know how to be happy right now. for more than an hour or so at a time. that really sucks. y'know? that really mother-fucking bites.

i lied. not really; my perspective is just different at the moment. but somehow, no matter how hard i try to force things into a pleasant shape, they resist. its like trying to sculpt water. if there were a psychological equivalent of freezing things and then fashioning them into a big icy sculpture, i would be so willing to try and learn that... but until then, until i get out of here, i just feel so, horribly, fundamentally powerless. i can't change anything, i can't effect anyone. i can't bang my life into a shape that doesn't grind against my brain. i'm not going to stop trying. but i feel the need to express how completely impotent i feel. i feel like i'm holding my limp little penis, and its just lying flaccid there in my hand, not even like its soft, but like its flat out dead. i feel really horrible.

all your creative power, the generative drive that makes you able to laugh and love and mold and form and effect change and stand up for what you are and what you believe in; imagine someone stole into your bedroom one night, and somehow cut it right out of you. they stole it away. they took it from you. and this isn't some movie where you learn the lesson that you had it with you the whole time; they can't take that away from you! they took it. its lost. and without it, you don't even have the drive to look for it.

imagine your womb, your thrumming, life-giving, vibrant, "the only way a single person more gets here is through my own power" womb. then imagine a desert. imagine that inside your womb is a desert. that's how my life feels. imagine you try to tell people about this horrible loss you're feeling. you try to explain "they took it from me! my power, my energy, my spirit and my soul! they took it from me! i've lost it!" and everyone just looks at you with fear in their eyes, and radiates their lack of understanding.

for probably the second time in my life, i really feel like i'm cracking up. i'm not even kidding; this isn't an exaggeration. at this point, i am holding so tight to my little worldview, and there is such a disconnect between it and the reality of my situation, that i really feel like i'm teetering on the edge of that precipice, and have one foot over the drop already, and the wind is just sucking at me. pulling at me, trying to suck me down.

and even scarier, i would rather fight it out, and cling to my insanity, and go out in a blaze of glory, spirited away to some facility where they medicate me heavily and treat me like i'm subhuman, silently punishing me for daring to defy what is their reality. i'd rather crack from the strain. because the alternative seems to be the loss of something dear and precious to me, and i wouldn't be me without it. i would be the walking zombie that i already am more and more often; a shuffling shell without hope or ambition, not expecting anything, not even able to wrap his mind around the concept "happy." i would become a societal black hole, a dark spot pressing heavily on every mind that came in contact with me. i would be exactly what i hate.

i'm so tired... more depression. this writing, this tirade, is my way of draining the abcess. its the mental equivalent of sticking a hot knife into the infected pocket, and letting viscous, angry pus bubble and run out. it is the relieving of this unbearable pressure. and it works for a little while, and i feel better afterwards. tired, just like an exhausted surgery patient. but it helps, and i should try and remember that.

i feel better.