Wednesday, December 27, 2006


I'm not here anymore. At least not in any form that I recognize. I am SO worn out, ravaged really, from the inside out from all the doubt and second-guessing. I don't know how people do it.

The short answer is, not everyone suffers from te level of self-doubt that I excel at. Quite debilitating. Well, maybe not debilitating. I mean, I still get out there and do work and meet "friends" and pursue marginal interests (such as romance, to pull a card out of the deck). But all the while, I feel like some kind of contestant on a gameshow...the odds are against me and I'm merely there for the amusement of the man.

What a joke. I know why I'm down like this. The holidays. Cold, miserable, lonely holiday season. And while I could have always flown to Egypt and spent the holidays there..I'd rather be alone and miserable here than alone and miserable in Cairo.

Sara's with her family. And I haven't seen any actual friends in a while. And I hate my parents. It really doesn't leave anyone, does it?

There's the dog. And I think she's getting depressed from all the negative vibes I've been giving her.

The irony is that on paper, I seem to have it all. But you can't tell how empty someone is just from looking at them. I used to think that my depression was the product of privilege, but that simply isn't true. I was miserable growing up, tortured in my teens, conflicted in my twenties and now empty in my thirties. Have I had any good times?


I've achieved things. And done things. And experienced things. But I'm just not happy.

That in fact, would be the definition of miserable. Not happy. Someone who can't shake the feeling of doom and gloom. Joyless. I should put that down in my dating profile.

I actually put down a variaton of that once. "Depressed but never depressing". I think that line single-handedly depressed my responses by 75%. Even honesty doesn't work.

Alright, got to last until the New Year.


Because the alternative would be just to kill myself and get it over and done with. But I couldn't do that.

It would kill my parents (ironic, really) and despite their own selfishness, I'm better than them. I also don't know if there's a God who punishes for things like that, but it would be the epitome of irony that my punishment for killing myself to escape a life of misery would be an eternity of misery.

Richard Dawkins said he finds it strange that most religions talk of a God who would punish you primarily for not believing in him, rather than rewarding you for your deeds. Why would he care so much in being believed in? I mean, no one believes in me and I don't go on about it..

Things will get better. And then they'll get worse again. And then they'll keep doing that little dance until one day, I'll be dead and it won't matter.

I wonder how long it'll be before Sara makes for the exit? I hope it's soon. I don't need this glimmer of hope that is sustaining me...I need total and utter and complete despair. At least I'll know something for sure, then. That my misery is truly and utterly perfect.

Yes, yes, yes, self-fulfilling prophecy and all that. I can't help it. My emotions are paralyzed and I can only feel the things that I feel.

I just got a call from Banana Republic. They said they wanted me for focus groups. And then they said "In this case, we're looking for someone who's either married or living with a significant other".

Even Banana Republic are fucking with me.

Alright, I'm going to a strip club. Fuck you for judging me.


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