Restless

March 21^st 2017

Restless

As is always the case, it’s been a while since I’ve written last. It’s been just as long since I read what I have written. For future me, this post will be jumping around from place to place to place. Your head at the moment is a little jumbled but you really wanted to write. So here you are at 2:15am just dying to let some words flow from the fingertips listening to sad music.

You’re about to turn 25. I’m about to be 25. I remember when I turned 24, I started making videos. Just a dumb vlog. I told myself I would try to make one every day. For a good long time, I did just that. I quickly dropped off, but I’m curious about what I’ll have. I remember I talked about girls in it a lot. I remember talking about how I was quickly growing enamored with Megan but how I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Yet, here we are, in an odd, yet intimate place in both of our lives.

It’ll be an interesting thing to watch. I wonder if I’ll hate my past me or if I’ll hate my current me (more) for not having grown more.

One thing I’ve been meaning to write about is not only about Megan, but Megan’s apartment. I should have written this down earlier when the feeling was fresh, but I can still grasp onto it from time to time.

Close to a year ago, I began to talk to the wonderful force in my life that’s named Megan.

An inspiration.

A motivation.

A temptation.

As much as I don’t believe in love at first sight, I was instantly taken with her from the start. I grew really close to her. I’ve come to fall in love with her. Her apartment soon became a bit of a sanctuary for me. I fell in love with her inside of those walls. Between the restless nights and sleepless days I fell harder. Away from the world, and admittedly often in a drunken haze, she grew like vines around my soul and squeezed.

There, I did not have to worry about the passage of time. I could truly do nothing and so long as it was with her, I was okay. I could sit and be with my own thoughts and for once, not feel like shit. I love her and her apartment, the isolation with someone I loved that I so dearly desired became a a place of solace.

Megan moved back to Clarkston, and it was all for the best. But as the apartment emptied, as I took a look at the place emptying, I grew an increasing sadness. Even as I type this out, remembering it, brings a couple of tears to my eyes. I fell in love with this wonderful woman who to this day continues to inspire and motivate me on a balcony with a tragically beautiful view. The nights we spent holding each other in bed are times I could never replace.

I don’t well believe in fate, but I had been on a job during the night shift and Megan had so happened to also be on the night shift. She had asked on a random night if anyone was still alive and I answered the call. My job placed me in a convenient location to meet her. I was there for her when she was on the tipping point of mental instability and possibly suicide.

Even if we never end up together, I know I will always care for her. I truly think that me entering her life when I did was one of the best things to happen for both of us. I shudder to think what would have happened had I not said anything that night. If I had pushed it off. I very well could have lost my chance to become enraptured with this beautiful human being.

I’m slowly devolving into alcoholism. Again.

Shutocon just happened. Cozy, I have bad news if you’ve somehow forgotten. You blacked out drunk twice over the weekend. You can’t remember the nights you’ve had. You fucked up hard. You drunk dialed and texted the fuck out of Megan. While Megan doesn’t care, you do. While Stephanie and Kendra say I didn’t get out of hand, I shouldn’t have ever gotten to a point where I could question it.

I was always afraid of drinking before I started drinking. I had seen what people could do to others when under the influence and I was afraid of doing that same thing. I was always afraid of what I might do to others while inebriated. It’s only today that I came to the realization that once I realized that I won’t hurt others in my drunken state, I will drink to destroy myself. The hate I feel for myself is real.

As I’ve gotten a better job, I don’t find my hate subside.

As my body has gotten physically better, I don’t feel my loathing disappear.

Despite doing more with and for people, it doesn’t feel like this weight is getting any lighter.

Day by day, I feel like everything I’ve done is just a bigger distraction from this oppressive force. Most days I want to die, but the pride in me prevents me from doing anything about it. I can’t call it quits. I refuse. Even now, I will not let myself passively commit suicide because that’s the same thing as doing nothing. That’s essentially quitting. But it just feels like I’ve resigned to a life of complacency which in its own way is quitting.

It just feels like in this game of life, there’s no way to win.

I might move to Las Vegas soon. I think I’m going to, because it feels like the best thing I can do. I’m obsessed with doing the best I can and this seems like the best thing I can do. Job opportunity, living opportunity, and a fresh start.  My cowardice prevents me from being resolute about it and I hate myself even more.

I guess first thing’s first though. Get my drinking under control. With most of my writing prompts, I’m always at least slightly buzzed off of something. This is my first sober entry in a long time.

I think I’m going to end this entry here. It’s been about a half hour. I’m tired. Tired both physically and mentally. I can only hope things get better. I can only hope that I can fill this emptiness I feel.

Friday (I'm in Love)

[Written January 21st, 2017. Wasn't posted due to a lack of internet connection and then a lack of concern  to get this posted]

Now may be the most inappropriate time to write this but I figured I should write this while I can. Before my feelings on the previous week get overwritten. Last week (January 14^th, 2017) something I feel that is wonderful happened to me. Most of any of these entries are always fucked up feelings I have. Usually a way for me to vent out my frustrations and displeasure with myself, my circumstances, or the world I’m in. Instead, I have a change of pace and I’m going to write about something rather pleasant.

As previously written about, I was with Megan. It was a wonderful weekend. Of course, it was filled with its ups and downs, but it had much higher ups than it did downs. Even though it’s been about a week and a lot of the raw emotion has disappeared, I wanted to at least throw it down here so that a year, two years, five years down the road I can read back on it and have at least something happy to read up on instead of gloom. Just a little glimmer of hope.

That, and if any of my friends find this, I want to impart them with at least one thing positive.

I’m always happy when I’m around Megan. Even if we’re just in silence, I can enjoy the time with her. It drives me up a wall sometimes because I was always in situations where silence meant trouble. Still, it isn’t bad with her. It’s rather enjoyable.

We had a heart to heart. She took my hands and she asked, “Hey, so you know you fell in love with a crazy girl right?”

I could only laugh. Cause she was right. It felt like my emotions imploded. All the weight that I carried on my shoulders collapsed in on itself and settled. It imploded in the most pleasant of ways. I shook my head.

“Yeah, well, didn’t someone say that all the best people are crazy?”

I remember her saying something in response, but I think I went temporarily insane and beside myself. I just couldn’t help but feel…. Validated almost. Validated that she saw right through me and wasn’t repulsed. The insecure part of me that will always be nagging at me, eating at me, still continues to believe it was some kind of fucked up joke, but I can work through that.

For anyone, including future me, reading this, you might have noticed it only said she knew I loved her. The next day, it was a similar situation. Except she leaned in close and whispered, “Cozy… I think I’m in love with you. And I don’t know what to do”

I really had no response. I think it honestly just took everything in my body to not just explode. Still, she was intoxicated, so that demon of insecurity claws away at me thinking she only said it because she was drunk. I just hope against hope she was speaking from the heart.

I love her, I truly do. It’s weird to think about how my life got to this point, but I can’t help but feel otherwise. Maybe a year later I’ll come back to this, read it, and think I’m some kind of fool for falling this hard. But maybe I’ll come back to this and only think I’m a fool because future me has only fallen harder.

Drunk Thoughts: Before and After

Thoughts I had before and after I was drunk.

First, if for some reason you haven’t read this page, read it first. It’s important, I promise. It’s important to me. It’s from Spider-Man, issue 10. Reading this sets me into tears; at least close to it. This is how I feel about my everyday life. My family isn’t a great family either. My family is full of alcoholics, drug addicts, people in jail… I’m ‘the good kid’ in the family, but I’m still not as great as people make me out to be. I’ve done horrible things and I’m scared that one day I won’t be able to go back.

I act as a good person. I’d sound like an edgelord if I said it’s not because it doesn’t make me feel good. It does. I enjoy being a good person overall. But part of me knows that part of it is because I’m compensating for the piece of shit human being that I am. I’ve done lots of terrible things. While some of the shit things I’ve done have just been things done out of immaturity, some of them are very recent.

I’ve cheated on a significant other. I got drunk with a girl and attempted to have sex with her. I’ve hurt people. I’ve lied to people. I may have been seeing a girl (more or lesss? I don’t know… More on that later) and yet I’ve led on multiple girls and get them to talk dirty to me almost on a whim. Shameful, shameful things.

It’s all things that I know my dad would/did do. I just… I worry about it all the time. Because with the exception of really hurting people or dealing heavy drugs, I’m not much different from my dad. I workout not for health reasons or even to try and get some kind of peace of mind. It’s because I’m so insecure about myself I workout to try and make myself appealing to people I don’t even care about. I fool around with girl’s who don’t want to date me and especially girls who have boyfriends. I do both of these things because I’m so fucking scared of intimacy. I’m a coward.

At least fooling around with girls grants me some kind of pleasure. I don’t have to stick around. I know that I’m not really cared about; just enough for them to take pity on a poor soul like me. Then on the other hand, a girl I actually care about I’ve pretty much lost all hope with.

She doesn’t text or message me as she used to. She doesn’t want to hang out with me as often. I fucked all of that up. She’s such a terrific, fantastic human being. I love her eyes and the way she looks around when she’s trying to think of something. Or the way she sometimes bites her lip on concentration. Or how her hands move and her voice changes when she’s excited. But because I’m so much of a coward to make a move, I think she’s gotten impatient with me.

I’ve done so many horrible things. Why would anyone like me let alone let themselves be intimately involved with me if they knew all of the shitty things I’ve done? I just… I don’t deserve it. I really don’t. This is all I should be allowed. This torturous existence of being near but never having the fucking gall to even make a decent move. Such is the life of the pathetic like me.

Sleepless

December 19th, 2016

I don’t even want to sleep. I don’t want to sleep because that means that I’ll have to wake up again. Sometimes I just don’t even want to live. I feel so out of control of my life. I have the ability to control the little things but nothing that realliy matters. Nothing that’s important.

I found a new job so I can make more money so I can buy more things. That’s nice, I can live a little more comfortably I suppose, but for what? I guess that’s the question that everyone has been asking since the dawn of time so I’m not special. I just hate that I’m just like everyone else and stuck in this cycle of meaninglessness.

I can’t and won’t end my life. So because I can’t choose to end it, I can’t say I’m really in control of it. When you’re truly in control of something, you should also have the ability to terminate it. I can’t end my life. Even if I truly had the courage to do so, that just leaves everyone around me in a shit position. I can’t do that to them. I won’t do that to them.

I’m just lonely. So very lonely. I suppose that’s the reason why I try to do whatever I can for the sake of friendship. I never had that familial support structure. I’ve had romantic love very few times in my life. The only thing that could possibly fill that hole is friendship but at the end of the night what does that do for me? At least, what does it do when I can’t share with them?

There are very few people who are excited to see me just to see me. There was always Beth but more often than not I feel like that’s because it’s more of a familial relationship than anything. She depends on me. I’m a nasty bastard who has a hard time bringing themselves to depend on anyone. Besides that, I just want someone to miss me and it mean something.

Bethany misses me right now but that is because of the situation she’s in. When she was out with any of her boyfriends she didn’t miss me. Which isn’t to say that’s a bad thing, but it’s just a different thing. The animals miss me, but they’re subservient to me. Of course they’ll miss me. I just want a message from someone I care about to say that they miss me. That’s all I want.

That they can’t wait to see me.

They’re looking forward to when I arrive.

They can’t bare it without me.

Maybe that’s just because I’m egotistical as fuck. Maybe that is too much to ask. Maybe that’s a little selfish.

I recently saw a new device. It’s a hologram of a woman (and of course, it just HAS to be anime looking to appeal to my shit weeb tastes) who will send periodic messages of encouragement throughout the day. I know everyone thinks I’m strong and I am, but I feel so terribly weak.

My armor is strong but inside I’m fragile. I can’t even bring myself to cry. I’ve started to drink to get rid of that pain. I’m almost at the point where I’m about to start reading visual novels again just to maybe feel attachment to someone again.

I really do adore Megan. I have it for her bad, but I just don’t know what will become of us. I feel like I’m way too clingy. I’m pushing her away. I know she has issues that she doesn’t want to burden me with, but is that really it? Perhaps she genuinely doesn’t feel the same way. Then again, I read that people with depression have a hard time with relationships because they feel like they’re nothing but trouble for their partner so maybe this is it with her too. It’s so hard to think about whether or not this could be that or what other options it could be.

In my last entry I think I touched upon that a little bit. When I’m first without her the loneliness is almost unbearable. But as time goes by, that pain is numbed. I’m sure this is just one of those moments now. I miss her so much and I think she might be avoiding me for one reason or another. Other people see her and I find myself in the unusual position of being jealous.

I hate myself for that. What right have I to jealousy?

None.

(God I write like a pompous asshole)

I’ve gone out with a few girls since I’ve been tentatively seeing Megan. It’s weird now. By sheer comparison, most other girls now seem… dull. Boring. Most of the time not as a person, but girls who I knew I would have liked (or in some cases did admire at one point) now don’t seem as interesting. Which makes me feel like just the biggest douche bag. There’s one other girl who has caught my eye, but that’s another story for another time.

Regardless, I am the worst. There are so many things about me that just make me so deserving of all of this. I deserve all of this dull, aching pain. I am and pretty much have always been a shit person. I can say good things and almost all of the time mean them. But that’s because I’m clever. That’s because I’m smart. But when it comes down to it? I’ve done, said, and do shitty things that I could never make up for.

People have told me some of the worst shit they’ve done and all of it seems petty. It all seems so small. I only know how to be the ‘best’ that so many claim I am because I know how to be the worst. Fuck me I just sound like a fucking edgelord bitch. Still, I guess that’s how I feel.

I don’t want to live.

But I don’t want to die either.

That would do nothing but hurt everyone else. Only after everyone else has left the party and I’m alone will I allow myself that.

Lone Digger

October 18th, 2016

I guess I’ll start off with something that I might keep in mind always or I might forget. So this will be a nice reminder. I normally write when I’m wrought with emotion. Usually that means it’s negative emotion. But I’m sure if I go back to some of the previous things I wrote that might not be the case.

I just thought to myself, “Perhaps I should write down some more positive things?”

I do write positive things all the time. I say and do positive things all the time. I share those moments with people. I share them with my friends. I share them on social media. As cliché and edgy as it’ll sound, those are the parts that I let people see. That’s what I share with people. To say that I should write more positive things makes it feel like I don’t write anything positive. I could probably stand to write out my own private, positive thoughts, but I do enjoy what I share.

That comes back to this piece of work.

Here I am, at work. Another late night/early morning where the flow of time has become a haze. I sit in near silence except for faceless clients that call for assistance. Otherwise it’s a few messages I can shoot out to people but then even that usually stops around 2am. So then it’s just me and silence in a small cube for the next 4.5 hours. It’s becoming maddening.

There are a couple of buffers that prevent me from going mad however.

Beth and Phyll. I may not see them as often as either of them would like (assuming they care) but I don’t think I could go this alone at this point in my life. At certain other times, I might have been able to. But not now. I’d most likely have snapped by now.

There’s also my weekly visits to Megan. We often just sleep and drink, but even then, I enjoy her company. Her smile is radiating and I love the sound of her laughter. The way her face expresses itself. When she sleeps and she’s curled up is precious. I do like her very much. I adore her. I’m falling for her. But I have no idea what we’re doing.

We both like each other very much. We’ve admitted that much. But I think both of us have such little time and so many issues with ourselves it’s hard to see us with another person. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe I’m delusional as I have been so many times. I’m uncertain. Which is what it usually comes down to. But I thought that was fine until I made the mistake of having a hookup with someone who I’ve even written about before.

I had her over at my house. We had a couple glasses of wine and we let it get to our heads, her more so than me surely. Even though I will get to everything that happened, the moment I want to write about and immortalize in writing is the one thing that kills me inside whenever I think about it. Just the smallest moment that makes my heart sink whenever it pops into my head.

As I spoke to her, I ran my hand across her cheek. For a moment, she held it there. She held it there and pressed it closer to her face; it was so warm. Then when my thumb rubbed by the side of her lips she lightly bit it. There was just something so intimate about that moment. Perhaps she was just trying to be sexy. Maybe she was trying to relax me. Regardless, I knew that this was most likely going to be a one time thing.

Even so, that one moment made me yearn for intimate companionship. She doesn’t enjoying making out or kissing. I do. Despite that missing, I felt a longing for it. I just miss being able to physically connect with someone on an emotional level. That’s what I miss most.

Between not being able to see people who I used to be able to hold dearly in my life and not being able to have someone who can share with me in physical intimacy and hold me dearly is taking its toll on me. If you’re reading this (almost certainly without permission unless it’s me myself) I’m not going to take my life into my hands. Too many depend on me. Too many need me. I could not. But as the days go by, as the stress piles, as I lose sleep, I can feel the rope of my life start to fray and the strands break. Once that rope snaps and I reach the end, I guess we’ll just have to see how that goes.

Until then, I’ll just have to hold on to this rope of life.

[Continued the next day]

I read back to a previous post where I did mention the girl by name: Sarah. I feel so weird; hung up on her. I’m not sure if I’m hung up on her though at this point or just the idea of her. Reading back, it looks like the biting is something I enjoyed even for that one moment. When she nibbled on my hand. Because of course that’s a thing.

Not to mention the scumbaggery from the week previous. I’m always tangled up with Keni for some reason. We just can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other. There’s just some kind of bond between us that I wish I could be a decent person and shake.

Yet that night ended up with her straddling me and us dry humping, starving for each other’s flesh. I, of course, initiated all of this. The shining example of loneliness, desperation, and apathy for any who wasn’t me. I’m such a deplorable person. I’m just a mess. No matter what I try to say to myself or what I do for other people. It’s all to hide that at the end of the day, curled up, I’m just a slave to my own libido.

I lack self-control and crave self-satisfaction.