So I made an attempt at the online dating thing. I must say it has been incredibly dissapointing. No more disappointing than my regular life, because, come on, have you met me?
The free sites are terrifying holes of insecurity and weirdness. The pay sites are the same with the added bonus of intense insanity and projection.
Really at this point giving up is the only thing. Why did I even bother to hope? I am a failure anyway.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Sunday, October 20, 2013
On My Reality...
I live in a strange place. Not where I sleep, but in my head.
It is full of dark places, hidden crannies and shadow. Paranoia runs rampant. All is covered by pain, some emotional, most physical.
Lately a new medication has been added to the mix, to help the pain. It works, kind of. The pain is still there, I just don't care so much. As this has been going on, things have begun to change. But I cannot trust it.
The fact that I always look for the worst is coming to the fore. And finding the worst is not a problem.
The fog I live in now makes for quicker thinking, but also makes it more difficult to let go of a thought once it comes to the fore.
It is a wistful hate. more like sour grapes than anything else. It is different than my self-hatred, or my hatred of lobster or traffic. It is based on the fact I love her, and cannot be with her.
More insignificance in a life that is nothing but. I leave only pain behind me wherever I go, and leave no other mark than the words I leave here. But I will continue to live.
It is full of dark places, hidden crannies and shadow. Paranoia runs rampant. All is covered by pain, some emotional, most physical.
Lately a new medication has been added to the mix, to help the pain. It works, kind of. The pain is still there, I just don't care so much. As this has been going on, things have begun to change. But I cannot trust it.
The fact that I always look for the worst is coming to the fore. And finding the worst is not a problem.
The fog I live in now makes for quicker thinking, but also makes it more difficult to let go of a thought once it comes to the fore.
It is a wistful hate. more like sour grapes than anything else. It is different than my self-hatred, or my hatred of lobster or traffic. It is based on the fact I love her, and cannot be with her.
More insignificance in a life that is nothing but. I leave only pain behind me wherever I go, and leave no other mark than the words I leave here. But I will continue to live.
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