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_Y_

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  1. I'm in serious trouble. Nearing forty, struggling with the same "what ifs" the same "have nots" and the same unanswered questions that I have for most of my adult life. I'm not good enough, it's becoming increasingly difficult to convince myself that I am good enough as time goes on. I want the same things other people want. The relationship. The nurturing, the love, bla bla bla, stop me if you've heard this one. It's all a lie. It's all a marketing ploy, it's one of those lies the media brainwashes you into accepting in childhood, the concept that there is someone for everyone and you find her and it will be love at first sight and you'll get married, happily ever after and all that garbage. I see that it's a lie, and I still cannot accept it. On some level, I deny it. I'm like two different people. A contradiction. I knowingly accept two conflicting ideas as truths. How is this even possible? I'm confused. I know the reason. I want answers. I want to know. Other people know. What makes them so special? Why are they better than me? They can't be. Yet I look around, and I see they have the things I want. This is also a lie. You know, they say that if you're jealous of the things you want, you have to be jealous of the things you don't want. You see the dude with the hot girl on his arm, but what you don't see is that the hot girl is pressuring the guy to have an open relationship that he doesn't want, you don't see the hot girl's evil vindictive mother pulling her strings from the side, you don't see how the hot girl has phased out activities that the guy enjoys doing because of a measure of distaste for those activities, you don't see the anguish that the guy feels that he hasn't even learned to accept and process yet. I don't want this. So why do I do this to myself? It's my fault. I'm the reason this is. It's like I expect I'm "owed" something out of sheer frustration. And I'm not in the right place because I can't motivate myself to head out of my safe place right now unless I'm accompanied by friends. Whom are mostly busy with work, and/or have ugly mood disorders themselves that they're trying to manage also. And this may surprise you, but I know I'm worth loving. Two months ago. It felt so promising. I was going to change everything, one step at a time. Then something went wrong. I'm still trying to pinpoint exactly what it is. Maybe what went wrong is that I got caught up in lost time, and an ever-greater sense of losing time. It is happening more often, you know. I am nearing a mid-life crisis. A war is coming. Something inside me, something I don't want to be, pitted against the person that I want to be, the person that I am. If I'm honest of course, the war has been going on for a long time. But it is reaching a focal point, a period in which the outcome will be decided. I don't know what will happen. I hate myself. I love myself. I don't deserve what I'm putting myself through. There are spiders crawling around the inside of my skull. I wanted to make things right. But can things ever be right? I must know. I have to know, this is chickening me inside. If I found out, whether it's win, whether it's lose, or whether it's draw, I think I could live with myself. At least, theoretically. I think it would resolve the conflict. Even if I wasn't happy with the result, I could be satisfied with the knowledge that I did everything I could given my scarce resources. (the system is working against me now, writing k-i-l-l-i-n-g as chickening. I am not trying to be nasty or obscene. I am attempting to convey something. A thought, as dark as it is, that is real. Never deny a thought, it will worm into some aspect of your thinking and sabotage everything. This does not make it easier. This makes it more frustrating) If these questions aren't answered, I fear what I could become in the next five years. I'm really not like this all the time. I'm a good-natured, non-violent person. People like me. People want to be around me. If I told some of them I was mentally ill, they would think I was making a joke. That is how adept I am at blending. I have reduced it to an art form. And yet, I'm still fighting the same battles at 38 that I was at 18. Truth be told, I expect to be fighting the same battles at 58. If I live to see 58. A mask. It is all a mask. I wear forty different masks, depending on whom I'm with and how I'm feeling, and especially based on how I think others think I should feel. My favorite one is the "Are you okay/I'm totally okay" mask. That is a good one. All I wanted is to be heard. I think being heard is of vital importance. -_Y_
  2. _Y_

    Whattafugg...

    So in my latest weird dream, I was observing some kind of basketball game...actually it seemed more like basketball practice, and I heard the coach describing all of the aspects of dribbling the ball and throwing the ball, etc. Catching the ball in a mid-air pass had some odd non-existent term attached to it, and as I was told, "each player's catch has it's unique signature to it, there is not a player in the world whose catch is like any other." Ummm...okay. Then, I witnessed a game between two teams. One of the teams had a red and purple jersey and the other had a black and white jersey. The black and white team won easily, to such an extent that the members of the red and purple team were angry. And the coach was angry, because the team he was coaching was the team that lost. Believe me, this all seemed much more important to me at the time than it does now. So the coach was angry, and I saw him sit on a bar stool at a pub and start texting someone, and the footage on the TV screen above him was of a basketball game. The coach, incidentally, looked like Mr. Jefferson from Life Is Strange. At that point, there was a part about video games that I don't remember, I only remember it was about video games because that is what my notes say. And then I saw a girl, sitting, as if frozen, unable to move. And the coach, who was sitting behind her, put his hand on her shoulder. Then ###### happened...a cluster of blisters appeared on this woman's shoulder where the coach touched her, and I was appalled because the coach knew what he was doing and because this girl made no move to resist. So the next thing I know, I saw this girl's head literally disintegrate like wet clay. I actually saw her eyeballs roll out of her head like ping pong balls, and her eye sockets close shut. This was very appalling and disturbing to me then, but even more so as I realized while I was watching this was that the reason I could not intervene was because I had no body. Then I woke up.
  3. Batman: Arkham Knight on PS4. The last title in one of my favorite series. I just find it so liberating to control the batmobile. Of course, the batmobile in this iteration essentially empowers the very antithesis of Batman's moral code, that is, to never ****. Running over criminals at high speed while electrocuting them at the same time and plunging anti-tank missiles at seemingly harmless vehicles to simply incapacitate them are measures in which the men on the receiving end are highly likely to emerge dead, if at all, but I'll gleefully look the other way while the taser effect of my cartank's chasis kicks in yet again, heehee.
  4. _Y_

    My Dreams

    Weird dreams. I used to remember most of them. For awhile, I went to remembering barely any at all, possibly because I just didn't care to at the time. At some point, I decided any dream from as creative a person as myself ought to be remembered, and so I have been recalling a lot more in a lot more detail of late. As the brevity of my mood has been much more chaotic recently, I guess this contributes to the chaos in my dreams now. 1) I dreamed that I was in a place...a dark place of which I remember little. It is the circumstances of the dream which are so vivid. Basically, I saw a female vampire. She was pregnant. I realized I was carrying something in my left hand. It was a woman's placenta. I held it at the opening, as one holds a plastic bag. I remember the look of the placenta in great detail. It was almost skin-colored, although clear, and sort of wrinkly in appearance. And it was filled with a fluid. The fluid in the placenta was holy water. Acting instinctively, I threw the holy water-filled placenta at the pregnant vampire. Upon collision, it burst open like a water balloon, dousing the pregnant vampire with the holy water. The pregnant vampire hissed. I woke up with a "***" feeling. 2) I had a somewhat more laid-back dream in which my family and I were planning a camping trip. I don't recall all of the details, but at some point in the dream, I met a man. Upon further recollection, my brain took the man's face from a particular youtube video that I saw listed but never watched. The man seemed trustworthy, and without any reservations and experiencing no impulse to hesitate, I found myself agreeing to take the man into my confidence. He was going to drive me to the campsite my family had chosen. This individual seemed very charming, good-natured and open, but my sister warned me that he was planning to use me. Then we were at the back of a moving van with several other people. At some point, my deductive reasoning peeled back the layers of what I found to be subterfuge, and I realized I had made a huge mistake in trusting this person. He didn't want friendship; he wanted my money and possessions, in particular certain things that I own and am working on which I consider irreplaceable. At once I felt like I had been exposed as gullible, like I had been suckered in out of some inherent, vague sense of need. I felt exploited. The last image I remember from the dream was being dropped off at Emerald Lake, and seeing the man get back into the van. With one of my external hard drives. I didn't say a word to object, because I rationally concluded that the hard drive I lost wasn't my biggest or most important hard drive. But I felt deeply violated by the whole sequence of events, because when he left, the man knew I had realized his deception, yet still acted polite, even as he took something belonging to me as I merely stared in utter disbelief. And I felt completely violated, because I knew that he knew he could get away with anything short of m***** just so long as he maintained his friendly disposition.
  5. I eat bosses for lunch. Probably the main reason I can't hold a regular job. When I'm done my meal, there's no one left to administer a paycheck, so I move on. Never much thought about it. Eating bosses is just in me to give. It's an all-you-can-eat boss smorgasbord!
  6. When I go to bed at night, I detach from my identity completely. I pretend I'm someone else entirely. Different identity. Different life. Maybe a few qualities I pride myself on are still there, but for all intents and purposes it is a totally different human being. Ironically enough, it is a person with their own insecurities. Their own conflicts and problems. Because that is how life works. When I wake up each day, I typically feel quite peaceful, rarely that depressed. Each new day begins with a question. That question is, "Am I ready to be me again for a stretch of twelve or fourteen hours?" Getting out of bed in that state is hard.
  7. Why crap?bc i am crappy I'm sorry you feel that way. As a gift to you, here is a dramatically overdone emoticon with a flower. What? What do you mean, we don't have the flower emoticon. Dammit. Okay...I don't have a flower for you, instead please accept this cute little cat emoticon. Just between you and me, I think cats are the bomb!
  8. I explored new depths of personal anguish (has to count for something, right?) Literally, I feel like the commander of a space vessel chartering unknown, hostile worlds. The air is toxic, the fauna is toxic, and my first officer just came back from the last away mission with something ominous and alive attached to his brain stem and ― OMIGOD, IT JUST MOVED AND NOW IT'S BLINKING AT ME, **** IT! **** IT!!! Seriously, if emotional pain is a great mechanism for higher learning, then I am learning more than I ever wanted to right now.
  9. I know exactly how you feel. It's what I felt when I was 25. I guess I don't know anything about the differing ethnicity thing, but then again, girls shun me with such overwhelming regularity I might as well be from Pluto. For me, I know I'm good-looking. I've been told I have a very distinctive and memorable face. I look younger than my years, and I've always heard about how 30-something women are liking the whole "dude with a younger-looking face" thing. But still, nada.
  10. ...Well...second actually, I guess I responded to someone else's post about how you're feeling. I'm here because I'm angry. Greatly depressed. But lately the emotion is making me angry. Really angry. I mean, a level of anger I cannot fully describe. But it's there. I'm looking at it right now. It's like using your mind's eye to stare directly into the sun. This pains me, because I used to be angry like this. It was a long time ago, but what I was going through then and how that came about was for a lot of the same reasons I'm feeling this way now. Let me just start off by stating that I don't go about expressing my anger in really negative ways. I don't shout a lot, throw things, or become physically violent. I'm actually quite naturally soft-spoken. Very few people have heard my "angry voice." But the reason I guess I find myself here is that I have a problem. It is a problem that fuels the anguish within me, like a sweltering furnace. And, as I am finding out right now, it is a problem that comes back to haunt me at a time I had thought I had addressed this within myself, yet was fully aware that something inside of me was lurking all this time, waiting for this period to come out again in full force. It's deeply frustrating, because having this come out now provides another obstacle in solving my ongoing life dilemma. My internal rage and unhappiness is caused by my inability to solve this problem over the course of my life, but could also contribute to my inability to solve this in the future. My problem is this: Loneliness. Used to be, back in the years after I turned twenty, I started to experience this smoldering resentment towards couples. Couples that I saw in public. Holding hands or whatever. Making out or whatever. Doing couple things. I was too painfully shy and awkward to ever do anything about it. I had never been intimate. Never been kissed. Never had my hand held by someone important to me. So one day I challenged myself. I said, this is going to end, I'm going to do something like this. And I was lured in by a couple that actually posed as two distinct separate people who sensed my pain and desperation. And I was burned badly. The experience deadened something in me, and I have been crippled by the fear that it could happen again all this time in the fifteen years since. Friends and other people who thought they knew what they were talking about urged me to forget about it. They said, find something to do with your time, find a purpose, and it will just happen. Excuse me for one moment while I bitterly laugh at that foolish sentiment. The idea that it "just happens" for a person such as myself is about as likely and plausible a penguin finding love with a flamingo. But I took the advice to heart. Went out, finished my grade twelve (after having dropped out many years prior). Went to university, didn't graduate, but got "an experience." Found a cozy place in the city. Made lots of friends. Even went to Anger Management, learned to deal with my anger. For a long, long time I would have told you that the anger was addressed, and for a long long time, I could actually look at an affectionate couple without having the immediate urge to throw obscenities. Sometimes I would arrive home and just cry and cry and cry to myself after seeing that, but I was able to logically conclude that any anger I would experience was not conducive to what I wanted to achieve, nor at all fair to other people. As well as the obligatory self talk that everything I was going through was just temporary, and surely, SURELY, there was someone beautiful and intelligent enough to perceive the positive things in me (and I am in no way ugly, but no way to prove it until I can find a way to upload my excessively-sized profile pic, ugh). And most importantly, perhaps, that what I thought I was seeing was not all a bed of roses, and that if I am jealous towards the guy she is sleeping with, I should also be jealous because she cheated on him and gave him an STD, I should also be jealous because his parents despise him, I should also be jealous because the bank is about to repossess their home and the 101 s***ty things that occur to seemingly happy people. And you know what? It helped. It addressed a great deal of the turmoil, and actually made it possible for me to live somewhat of a rich and fulfilling life. A rich and fulfilling life with myself. But a rich and fulfilling life nevertheless. And for a long time, I was okay. The depression would still come, usually at a rate of once every 2-3 years for about 2-3 years, but I thought I was okay. I thought it was only a matter of time, and everything would be okay. But I was wrong. Things aren't okay. And I'm getting sick and tired of pretending that they are. So the years pass. In that time, I manage to secure one or two dates, but no repeats. And I've still never been kissed. Never been intimate on any level. Never even held hands with a prospective partner. Fast forward to the present, and things are imploding before my eyes. I guess the first sign of concern was this depression of the last 12 or so months, leading up to an utter nervous breakdown in which I had to be rushed to emergency to be...watched...let's just say. And the rage is coming back. The same rage that I experienced back then. The same rage I am bottling up, because I don't want it to fuel the s***ty things I did back then. I don't want to repeat past mistakes. The desperate things anger makes one do. But I am nearing forty, and I cannot deny that in light of that looming fact, I am beginning to go back to that desperate state. I shouldn't be a virgin at forty. I don't want to be a virgin at forty. I want to go out and do new things, I want to be loved. I want to be told I'm loved. I want to hold a girl's hand and tell her "I love you," and not get strange looks and laughter. Jesus Christ. I want that. I want it so bad it hurts. But I don't have it. And at this stage in my life, not just not having it, but having N-E-V-E-R had it? It raises some huge questions about me. About who I am. About what I am. It makes me wonder what is wrong with me. It makes me remember all the times I was called weird and unlovable at grade school. And it makes me wonder whether they were right. This is the hole in me. It's not a hole. It's an abyss. Yawning and malignant. I can feel it growing inside. And each time it expands, it consumes something inside of me. Something irreplaceable and sacred. The contradiction is the worst. The painful thing is that I am really sociable. I'm funny, reasonably attractive, people are drawn to me socially. People seem to be drawn to me socially. But not women. Women run away. When they are willing to tolerate me, often, they strike me as oblivious, disinterested. Like I'm somehow below their approval. When they don't, I tend to say things that make me seem more awkward. Or mental. Or both. I look at people around me. And I honestly wonder to myself: What makes that person, or that person, any better than me? What makes anyone better than me? When I see women, I think to myself, what do you want? What the hell do you want from me? What makes me so hopelessly deficient in your eyes? Is it that I'm 5'4"? 115 pounds? Is it the way I dress? Is it that my chest hair isn't all exposed? Is it because I'm not driving a fancy car? Is it the way I talk? Is it that I'm not outwardly aggressive? Is it that I don't ooze sexuality, or that I don't appear violent or aggressive? Is the fact that I'm polite and cordial and not an utter punk to people a turnoff? What the hell is it, tell me what it is, just tell me so I know! Because what I am finding right now, you can correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that all the qualities my education and common sense tells me should be okay, my good qualities, most assuredly are not okay. If they were okay, then surely, you could stand to be in my presence for longer than thirty seconds. I saw a girl a week ago. Sitting in a spot along a short wall by the walk. She noticed me, smiled at me. And I wonder if she was waving me in. But I just couldn't say anything. I hate myself. I hate the way I am. I want to be different. Did you ever wish you were a totally different person? Different shell, different identity? Different in every way? I feel like that a lot. I feel like that until it hurts. I feel like that until I'm all numb inside and I sense another small part of me shrivel up, die, break off and plunge into the black abyss. And I find myself thinking, since that day. I find myself thinking about the guy she looks at that works up the nerve to talk to her. I picture them together, and all the things they do, and the life they possibly start together, and I go to bed loathing myself. Every night. Where is my place? Where is it? I don't know. I don't know my place. I don't know my purpose. I suspect it is to suffer. I suspect it is to watch others and feel jealous. I suspect it is to be aimless. Those emotions have been the big ones in my life. They are my companions, one my life partner, the other my mistress. I suspect they will be there when the end comes, whenever that happens. They hold me close. So close. As they hold me, they tell me, "Mike. We will always be here for you. We will never let you down." And they make the self-loathing increase. Another chunk of me. Into the abyss. Gone forever. Whoa. Holy morbidity check Batman. That was quite a spiel. That was just me unloading a lot of baggage. Don't take that to mean I'm going to **** myself tomorrow or anything. I've got a lot of pain on my chest right now, and no answers. No solutions. If you read through my whole spiel, you're unabashedly patient. Thank you. Thank you for listening.
  11. Like a ******cade is playing in my brain, and I'm the guy from The Clockwork Orange strapped to a chair with his eyeballs taped open unblinkingly. I'm not doing well at all, and I do not know what to do.
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