when showing me how small i am
please take care to close the door after you
because i am really cold, too
and am on the verge of

disappearing

🙁

Do I have low self esteem? I never thought I did. I know I have a brilliant analytical mind. I’m one of the foremost computing and technology experts out there, even if I’m not always recognized for it. I’m very well read and very literate. I’m reasonably decent looking — not a model or anything — but reasonably decent looking. I’ve always thought I was overconfident.

But maybe she was a little bit right. I do let people walk all over me. I know that I wouldn’t have a lot of the relationships that I have in my life right now if I didn’t forgive people for things that they wouldn’t forgive me for, and I stick with people when they wouldn’t have stuck with me.

What’s the alternative? To be alone? I do hate being alone. Badly. Why do I think I’ll end up alone? I don’t know, I just always have when I’ve stood up for myself. And I don’t recover well from it.

But I also hate being treated like shit, and it seems that a lot of people have treated me like shit over the years, and it took me a long time to stand up for myself.

But I still don’t want to be alone and friendless.

I just don’t know. I wish I still knew how to cry like a baby, because I could use it right now, but I just don’t.

I hate life and I wish I wasn’t here.

That the older you get while on your own, the less and less you like afternoons and evenings. They are just empty and they don’t love you at all. If you try to fill them with something, it feels forced and artificial, like you’re trying to have a life but are really just making it all up. If you don’t try to fill them with anything, it’s just you… very conspicuously just you.

—

Work is asking me if I want overtime. And here I sit actually considering it. Look at me. I live alone in Southern California working in a cubicle all day and coming home to a laptop at night. I’m everything I most fear becoming. The world has raped me.

somebody asked me if i had abandonment issues

what the hell does that mean?

i will have more trips to the bathroom or diet colas than I will have days in my life; why is it an ‘issue’ if i don’t want to waste them on being alone?

every sickness has been made normal and every normal human need made sick by the marketing machines that support capital

just

barely

hanging

on

Thank god it’s still grey and rainy outside. Unfortunately, the clouds are all expected to disperse before too long. I don’t quite know what to do with myself; I feel like I used to feel when I was an undergrad and rode my bike to school, on the mornings when I decided halfway there that I wasn’t going to go to class after all.

I would suddenly find myself sitting somewhere in the middle of the east side, miles from anything interesting in either direction, just apartment buildings and 7-11 stores everywhere, with no definite plans and a morning to kill, feeling slightly guilty and slightly off-kilter, and quite as though I was destined to waste the time to no good purpose.

—

The caffiene isn’t helping at all.

“Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of nature and
arithmetic, when, for some reason I dislike those laws and the fact that
twice two makes four? Of course I cannot break through the wall by
battering my head against it if I really have not the strength to knock it
down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because it is a stone
wall and I have not the strength.”

Today feels like it’s going to be one of the worst days ever in my life. I’m terrified of today and want it very much to leave me the hell alone.

29 and alone = infinitely worse than 23 and alone or 26 and alone.

—

in the event that i’m not here
to finish this properly,
please make note of the following tasks
that remain to be done:

one guitar in a black case
needs to be sold
because i don’t play it anymore
(and even if i did,
someone probably needs the money)

one small pack of clove cigarettes
needs to be smoked
because they’re tested on animals
and having supported that by accident,
i don’t want to be wasteful

one friend’s small daughter
needs to be watched over;
i promised him once that i’d take care of her
and i try to keep my promises,
even if they’re clearly out there

one girlfriend needs to be called
i don’t know which one it will be
by the time you’re reading this,
but please find her and tell her
that i never trusted her as far as i could throw her,
though i still loved her dearly

also, please feed my cat;
he’s grumpy, but his fur is soft
and he purrs just when things have gone wrong
like

probably

now

Nevermind. It’s not over. I’m gonna need it, this blog.

—

What’s the matter with me? Do I hate myself this much? Why doesn’t the truth ever occur to me, much less come out my fucking weasel mouth?

Half the people in my life would abandon me in a second if I stood up for myself.

—

NYC baby. NY fucking C.

It’s 4.20 am and I have to work in the morning, and I said this blog was over, but nonetheless here I sit writing, awake and unhappy. This sucks. I’m 29 years old and I’m laying here alone. Alone. Alone for months to come. I am alone at night and she’s got company, just like last summer, when I stood awake in the dark on my trailer-patio under the moon, smoking and drinking and waiting, making everyone in my life tense in the process. I feel like an asshole for not being supportive. I also feel cripplingly lonely and confused in this apartment and in this city right now.

Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I just suck. I’m just too tired to think straight, not asleep or getting any rest yet not awake enough to understand.

It’s all beyond me, ponderous and stupid. Everything feels foreign and there’s nothing and no one to share anything important with while I imagine my loved one thousands of miles away and wonder at the difference in our lives. I feel selfish for even typing this, but I have to communicate with someone right now, reach out and touch something, or I’m going to jump in my car and drive.

And I can’t do that because I have to go to work in a moment.

Already I feel guilty, and I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s because I think I’m a liar.

Bah. It’s clear I won’t get any sleep tonight, and of course I have to work 8 hours momentarily at high stress, before coming home to the brief interim between workdays.

I wish there was something I wished for.

It’s 3.25 am and I have to work in the morning, and I said this blog was over, but nonetheless here I sit writing, awake and unhappy. This sucks. I’m 29 years old and I’m laying here alone. Alone. Alone for months to come. Why? Why should it have to be like this? I am a living, breathing, generous person rapidly passing my peak — a human who needs warmth like anyone else.

She is now, as I sit here typing, sharing her sleeping quarters with others. She’ll do so for all these months, a warmth of the opposite gender nearby, a comfort that all adult humans crave. Just like last summer, while I slept for months alone, or stood awake nights on my trailer-patio under the moon, smoking and drinking and waiting, making us both tense in the process.

I chose this, it’s true. And I still do. But maybe I’m not good enough. I’m just too tired to think straight, not asleep or getting any rest yet not awake enough to understand.

But right now it’s all beyond me, ponderous and stupid. Everything feels wrong and foreign and there’s nothing and no one to hold onto or sense in the room, while I imagine my loved one thousands of miles away and wonder at the difference in our lives and try to figure out whether I’m being selfish or foolish or just a fool, period, for even typing something like this.

Already I feel guilty.

But I’m only half awake anyway.

—

Now 4.15. It’s clear I won’t get any sleep tonight, and of course I have to work 8 hours momentarily at high stress, before coming home to it’s-not-clear-what.

I’ve got to find something to take the pressure off. Something so that I’m not just waiting for a phone call, waiting for the weekend, waiting for the fall, waiting for the fall after that. You can’t live waiting. It’s pressure. It’s destructive. It’s wasteful. Nobody wants to be around you. You don’t want to be around yourself. You can’t sleep and you begin to make everyone around you unhappy because you are a weight and a burden, a big ball of impatience and dissatisfaction that they feel responsible for.

Life as an adult: you can’t have what you want. Any time you try to have one thing, you won’t have another. I’m so incredibly tired. Right now, I just wish I could sleep.

Nevermind. It’s not over. I lied. Or rather, I’m not capable of leaving it behind right now.

Life sucks. I’m not happy. Everything just really, really sucks. I’m here for no reason. I don’t like the place, I don’t like the way I’m living, and I don’t know why I’m here. There’s no fucking reason for me to be. I just am.

I’m an idiot. I’m just making myself and other people miserable.

—

Columbia
NYU
New School for Social Research
CUNY
Stony Brook
Chicago
Michigan
Harvard
Berkeley

high life

All my friends got flowers in their eyes
But I got none this season
All of last year

i lied

there will be one last post

i’m not quite sure what it’s about, but i know that it has something to do with the fact that i know that i deserve a lot. i’m a bright guy with a good career and a great future. i’m gentle and kind and will give loved ones the shirt off my back. i’ve never, ever, ever cheated on a girlfriend, not even so much as hugging or kissing someone else when i was in a relationship.

i’m good with kids, good with mechanical things, good with figures, good with household repairs, brilliant academically, a published writier, incredibly creative, and can be really very spiritual, too.

i deserve to be as high on anyone’s priority list as they are on mine.