It really does bug me just how prolific I get when I am sad. It hasn't even been two months since the last time I made one of these posts and I've already got so many slips of paper that I'm making another entry while stalling going to bed so I don't have trouble sleeping tomorrow.
Here goes:
I can handle, or have simply become used to, being deprived of resources like money, a social life, physical love, my friends' time...but deprive me of time and before long, I will revolt. --- I need "me time". I can put it off for a while, but going without it too long makes me irritable at best and a bridge-burner at worst. However, if the change will be long-lasting or even permanent, I will adapt begrudgingly. The long-lasting ones are the most interesting to me because I will both resist adapting to them when they are introduced and will resist losing them as they fade away.
The only people who give a fuck about your depression are the ones who cannot do anything about it... --- The majority of my depressions are not general malaise, but rather ones centered on something specific and rooted in a notion such as "no one understands me" or "that no one listens". My Mind has actually figured out a way to make talking about my sadnesses the wrong thing to do because if I have to tell you what is wrong, it only feeds the notion that no one understands and/or listens to me. My depressions are two-part puzzles. Like, if I need a hug, it can only come from specific girls (and unsurprisingly the chances of it even occurring to one of those girls to give me a hug is virtually zero)...but if I tell you whom, it will make me worse because you did not know already even though I almost certainly told you whom in better times and when not in sadness's grip. And things will be made doubly worse if you actually were to do something about it and make it happen because I will be weighted by the idea I can only get what I want if I beg for it. Depression is like an evil cartoon monster to me...always scheming and finding new ways to ensure I cannot escape it and frustrating all those who might give enough of damn to try. Some of those monsters have grown rather strong. Only one has ever been defeated.
There are seven left who can prove me wrong... --- Another layered post. When I go on one of my self-hating tirades centered on the notion that no one will ever want me, there are seven (known) women who could slay that beast at will but they either don't know who they are or they do know, but don't care. That number should be six now...at least officially...though she could come back and prove me wrong.
I wonder what will be cast off next? --- Every year I feel myself slowing down. My life grows ever simpler and ever more selfish and this happens because nothing changes for the better despite my efforts. I used to live in preparation for things like dating, having visitors, going out with friends, etc. but when they don't happen, I give up on them...cast them off. It's still entirely possible that one day I will be caught wholly unprepared for those things, but it hasn't happened so letting those skills atrophy and not replacing the stuff related to those activities as they wear out becomes the norm. For instance, I don't own swimwear because I have not been in a pool since 1992...maybe '93. I haven't been to the beach in even longer. When my Dad died, I inherited (if you will) his unused condoms. They're good until March 2012. I have four of them. I have yet to use one in the nearly three years I've had them and you can be sure I will not be going to a CVS to buy more to replace them when they have expired because...why would I? Stuff like that...
I will never fuck attractive girls... --- Seems self-explanatory and it doubles as a bridgeburning post. I'm primarily referring to girls I want to fuck and being an unexpected object of lust to a hot girl. This thought is usually provoked when seeing (seemingly) happy couples or a particularly hot girl with some guy who seems like a loser in my eye leaving me to wonder (again) just what is so wrong with me.
My brother's wedding is a humiliation... --- How humiliating that my brother will soon be married before I have even had a first date... What I like about my depressions is that they are at least honest. There's this one girl from PoF whom I'm not particularly enthusiastic about but is at least putting an effort into getting us to meet (unlike EVERY other one) so this may not be true for much longer and what I'm getting at is despite the desire to keep this drumbeat going, I will not purposefully sabotage this chance I may be given simply to keep this beat going. My depression has to be based on something genuine. It has a weird integrity. I like that I cannot deliberately ruin something simply to perpetuate a good storyline.
Centripetal realities never fail to rein in centrifugal desires... --- Depressions and Happinesses are like vortices. Depressions spiral inward because they lose energy whereas happinesses spiral outward because they gain energy. In order for happinesses to keep their momentum, their energy must be constantly replenished or even added to...but if after the initial input of energy I give them (often unwillingly in the form of hope) nothing happens, the outward motion of the spiral stalls and reverses, shedding energy as it goes...
Not being wanted by those whom you want is the same as being ugly... --- I stand by this notion. I have yet to hear it successfully countered. (RELATED POST: Don't contradict me when I say I'm ugly...)
This is the second place Dad has never seen... --- I get these thoughts every so often. That cruel reminder of how time marches relentlessly on. Maybe it's why I value souvenirs so much. They provide a remaining connection after all the easy ones have gone. It's one of the reasons I remain angry at Digby...she was the last girl I could have introduced my Dad to. I wish he could have left this life feeling good about his sons but instead he died when my brother was in jail and with me a confirmed bachelor. Sometimes I wonder if he believed I was gay. I lived with him for nine years and never once did I bring a girl home either as a girlfriend or simply a one night stand. He never brought it up with me either so all I can do is speculate and in time, as it goes uncontradicted, it will turn into a notion and that notion will form the core of another depression monster should one or more of the current ones be slain...
One of the reasons I hate complaining about things that can be changed is the near inevitability of being embarrassed shortly thereafter... --- One can only hope... (believe it or not, I have just been texted by a PoF girl I thought had forgotten about me though I don't suspect it will go anywhere)
I don't know why I look forward to each year's new coin issues. It just means I am another year closer to my death. --- This actually amuses me but I don't talk about my coin collecting on Facebook so it was always a no-go. It's just one of those odd things about life I suppose :-)
I wonder if I would sneeze less if I were happy? --- Would my immune system be stronger if I were happier? Would my allergic reactions to NOTHING (I can't stress that enough) happen less frequently or even stop entirely if I had more positive feelings than negative? I really wonder these things. I didn't exactly keep notes on this when I was in college.
You can't have a silver lining without a dark cloud... --- There's nothing wrong with this post, but it doesn't feel original. I haven't done a Google search but something tells me this is a thought that done been thunk before :-)
I was especially creative last night... --- I actually dated that one (11/13/11). I posted something else that day so this fell to the wayside. A baiting post. One that would have generated Likes by people unaware of its allusion to my depressions.
It turns out I did not move quickly enough after all. A huge emotional penalty awaits... --- A reference to Number Twelve. I waited too long to ask her out. If I had done so sooner, I would have moved on almost instantly from the rejection but by the time I had gotten around to it, I had already begun investing in her emotionally. It wasn't a lot, but she's now a Secondary as a result. Things might be worse if not for the attention I'm getting from the online dating sites. They're making effective distractions. Number Twelve could actually go Dormant while she's still around.
I'm not even worthy of being used... --- How sad is it that being used by a girl (hopefully for sex :-P) would actually amount to an improvement over my current lot?
Nothing changes except my age... --- I keep going around and around in circles. I return to the same point in space, but not in time. I have the effective socialization of a fourteen year old in a thirty-three year old body. When I say I'm old, that's why. I'm not where a typical man my age should be so I feel old. My deficiencies are like ghost self unable to merge with my present self. The distance between those selves makes me feel weaker.
As someone who has spent his life in the Friend Zone I assure you that I know how to treat a lady, just not how to woo one... --- Does that really need any additional explanation?
I wonder how many of my behaviors are the result of denial... --- Not self-denial, but rather denial by/from others.
I wonder why the only female customers who talk to me are either obviously in a relationship or old... --- It is practically without fail that every girl who has said hello to me at my register is accompanied by a man or too old for me anyway (and I'm talking grandma old here). And it's not that the silent ones are single awaiting my interest. No. I see their wedding rings or how whatever is on their cellphone's screen is of paramount importance to them. It's just those who do speak up seem invariably connected...
A romantic triangle is best drawn in evolutionary order: body, heart, mind. --- The desire to mate (body), the desire to bond (heart), and the desire to love (mind). Heart and mind? Close Friends. Body and heart? Fuck buddies. Body and mind? Friends with benefits.
I keep waiting to find out some girl I was rejected by got murdered by her boyfriend just so I could finally make the claim that a girl would rather be murdered than go out with me... --- I go to dark places sometimes.
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