2002-05-18 - 1:13 AM
Insomnia, Bitterness, And Boredom (Mix Accordingly)
A piercing - something sagittate piercing my God-given breastplate. It hurts. And it's one of them nights again.
I'm feeling like a bonafide loser (most may dispute that, but hey, I feel it). I'm inside - it's 1:30 in the AM, and the rain is coming down in torrents and wild-dives. I should be out, somehow enjoying it all - because I love the rain. But I'm inside - and I'm not doing anything but feeling sorry for myself. I hate pity parties. I hate people who engage in them. But I hate it the most, when I'm the one that's throwing it. It sucks; it really does. It's the pits, I tell ya. What kind of ridiculous prick would waste precious time feeling sorry for himself or herself? Sheesh.
Reasons for feeling lowly right now, you ask? Well, let's begin, shall we.
Recurring thoughts of how I'm usually the one to contact people - very few, if not a couple, people call me up nowadays or IM me first. After a while, you start to see who really cares and who really doesn't give a shit. It's surprising to see the results, because you would think that the people you categorize as "close" in your head - turn out to be the ones that forget you even exist once you stop being the first to talk to them.
Experiment/Attempt #1: I stopped IMing certain people - just to see how long it would take for them to actually IM me first.
Results: None of them IMed me. I even gave in to a couple of them (well, more specifically one of them, I guess) - after weeks of no contact (no phone calls, IMs, emails, texts, or visits from them), I still got nothing. So I gave in. And yeah - the convo(s) died after a few short sentences. *God, I hate being the one to move things along, especially in conversations.*
Experiment/Attempt #2: Drop semi-subtle hints, giving somebody the opportunity to jump on the chance to hang out with me.
Results: Negative - nobody caught any of the hints. I am left alone. Left alone. My dog beckons, as his bark echoes throughout my drowning house.
Experiment/Attempt #3: Make all sorts of justifications, rationalizations, and excuses for all the failed attempts to be proven wrong with my theory that most people don't give a real shit about me.
Results: Also negative. I realize that all they are, are justifications, rationalizations, and excuses. Fact is, I feel like a loser - and not too many give a flying vagina about me. *All of a sudden, the mere image and utter thought of a flying vagina astounds me.*
Experiment/Attempt #4: Keep busy - for an idle mind is the devil's playpen. Out of sight is out of mind. Ignore the facts - for reality is perception, and without perception, there is no reality.
Results: I've run out of things to do, people to talk to, places to go, energy to do anything. My mind is idle again. My futile attempt to avoid acknowledging the facts has been, well...futile.
...
Blah blah blah. Whatever, if people don't care - it doesn't matter. I've been the naive one, thinking that I had certain close relationships with certain "close" people, only to come to the conclusion that there can be no confusion, that shit, we're not as close as I thought. But allow me not to wallow in the rainbow swirls of this vanishing puddle of pity anymore. Permit me to scratch my freshly trimmed crotch, aiming the grotesque and unmannerly action towards those who don't even bother to say hi. Oh, and to all the haters out there, get a life and stop being so preoccupied with mine. You're all one notch shy of being Stalker Stans.
...
God - I woke up feeling sort of alright this morning. I may not have been ALL right, but I was alright. The saintliness of the sunrise filled me up - and now I'm emptied out. What a crisis. Somebody put on the Batman symbol. Or send a memo to Spidey's spidey sense. Something. Anything.
Let me feel like a Someone. Anyone.
"When you develop an infatuation for someone, you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. It doesn't need to be a good reason. Taking photographs of the night sky, for example. Now in the long run, that's just the kind of dumb, irritating habit that would cause you to split up. But in the haze of infatuation......it's just what you've been searching for, all these years." - The Beach
Infatuation sucks major flesh popsicles. I've come to realize that I've got nobody out there. That mythical "someone" that's supposedly out there for us all, like some American Tail - well, I'm the odd man out. No "someone" for me. It's not in nature's natural plans. Like a wise negro once said (the mystical negro AKA Basir), "sometimes I just feel like, if the whole world were paired off, I'd be the leftover." Lord, help me. God - I can be such a moron when it comes to being lovesick, or infatuation-sick. I'm telling you, I'm just a haze of craze right now. Falling for a girl, is like falling for the rain. You get caught up in the shower, that bathes your body, and hugs you tightly, cuddles you so, with a sheet of sky-tears saran wrapping your skin. You get so caught up, you don't prepare yourself for the next moment. Because just like that, in a moment, the rain is gone - and it all fades away. The world dries out - and soon you gotta make your eyes do the same. You're left alone, feeling like a loser. Fuck it all. And while we're at it, fuck Thomas Kinkade, for painting such beautiful things - making me wish for and glimpse a world that might bring me peace. Sadness is a lonely man's demise...and I'm doomed.
Wow - such a God-awful depressant, this here entry. I seriously didn't come online with plots, schemes, and machinations, planning to foil anybody's good mood. 'Twasn't my intention. But whatever - I'm venting. And I apologize if this got you down. I truly, deeply love you. Whoa, spare line from Episode II - Geez, I love Star Wars. OH! And to my wife - I truly, deeply love you. Hehe. And to you unbearable bastards who want to marry her now, only after seeing the Star Wars films - hope you chip your tooth on a metallic dildo. I've been loving her since I was eight years old. Shit, three-quarters of my drawings have been of her. Don't touch my Natalie. You and your filthy paws. Ravenous beasts. Be ashamed of yourselves. YEAH, THAT'S YOU, FRANK! HA! Everybody in the world can back me up. Hahaha.
oh, GOD! I AM a loser.
They should make a pill that could help cure my sickness. Oy.
I should go to bed or something. This isn't doing well for me. I'm sorry for having such an entry. Woo woo woo.
