Thursday, April 14, 2011

A self examination

I'm.  Fucking.  Bored.  And not the menial "don't have anything to do at the moment" kinda boredom.  I'm bored with this existence.

I woke up feeling restless this morning.  A longing in myself.  Something missing.  Not that it was ever there to begin with.  Maybe the desire for change is what's different, what's new.  I'm tired of being this person I've become.  Smile and nod politely?  Since fucking when?  Why do I feel neutered?  What happened to my bite?  Why do I feel empty?  I want to feel something real.  I want to be a part of something tangible.  A biological clock finally kicking in after more than my share of stolen adolescence?  I hope not.  Is this destruction in my soul just my way of revolting against this tedious averageness?  I want to destroy.  Am I just angry?  This darkness has always been just below the surface.  The violence.  I want to punch.  I want to make something bleed.  Someone.  Barely even matters who.  Why am I so angry?

Is this guilt I'm feeling from rising out from the ashes of my best friend's ruined relationship with a smile on my face and a song in my heart real?  Or is it a by product of the desire to feel responsible for something?  I would be lying if I didn't admit when The Retard first contacted me about Jaime's birthday the thought ran through my head of using this to my advantage.  To finally take from him what he took from me.  Granted the tools were already there.  The Retard's bordering on obsessive resolution to keep Jaime.  The tension between the two.  Jaime's continued infidelities.  The dysfunctionally symbiotic bond between Jaime and I.  Maybe I need to man up and take my share of the blame?  Perhaps this turmoil is warranted considering the convoluted nature of all this.  Of this incestuous thing between Jaime and I.  Why did the idea of a double date with the new guys we've been talking to bother me like it did?

Why does it still bother me to see pictures of assholes with their hands on Dante's crotch when I make it a point to discourage a future with him.  Does his expectations for the kind of life he wants to live scare me?  I'm a pretty simple guy.  I don't want, or care, about driving the brand new Beemer, or making sure people see me out and about, or talking about how much my things cost.  Was freaking out and breaking up with him my way to save myself the embarrassment of not living up to his high standards?  Do I even want to deal with that kind of pressure?  There's already enough pressure.

Why this constant need to be desired by those around me?  Not so much narcissistic.  That would mean I already loved the person I am.  Maybe once again, in order to feel something.  The main reason behind this sudden drive to starve myself and obsession for working out is so I can remind myself how wanted I am.  Or is it to take some kind of control on something?

I feel like a ticking time bomb unsure of the end result.  I'm too old for all this fucking angst.

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