I feel contempt. I feel numb. I feel ashamed. I'm tired. I sleep like shit. I'm running out of money. I'm stuck in my apartment. Where have you heard this one before?
My recent quadruple business has me fucking drained. Everything about it has me bitter. Everyone tells me that what happened wasn't even that bad, and to give it a few uneventful months, everything and everyone will be back to normal. I believe them - somewhat - but even if I believed them more, I kind of wouldn't care. My trust in other people is at an all-time low. My trust in myself is even lower. Now that everyone is moving back home, and summer is right around the corner, I just want to be left alone. Most things disgust me. I disgust me. My apartment is becoming this maze of my tossed clothes. I'm seeing more silverfish than normal. In my bedroom, which is quickly becoming this cocoon of all the dust-gathering stacks of shit that I own, I lay and beat myself off ad infinitum on my unmade bed, only leaving to steal food from my roommate, who has since moved back to our hometown. It's just me out here in our cabin in the woods.
The meds help the depression I would otherwise be bludgeoned by, but I feel very little. I told R---el that I feel like "a cupboard with nothing in it." This made her really sad.
I can't get my fucking head around her, to be honest with you. She bothers me. A lot. I don't mean that she pesters me. It's just that there's something horribly, horribly wrong with this situation. That's why I ended things so abruptly. Something is wrong. I don't know what it is, but there's something. I feel bad. She's a really nice girl. I like talking to her. I like flirting with her. I like it when she shows me books. I like it when she talks about Star Trek. I like it when she asks questions. I like it when she is overly confident. But something is wrong. I'm not sure how I feel about her very obvious, super duper pronounced feelings for H--den. I'm not sure how I feel about the massive cuts on her wrists. I'm not sure how I feel about how unwilling to end things she was when I decided to tell her about all of this. It all just upsets me. I wish I never got myself into this.
These days, I keep thinking I'll never marry. I would really like to, but I feel unable to manage it. All my relationships are spectacular fucking trainwrecks. R--hel told me that she thinks of me as a "very broken person, but at least you're interestingly broken. But that's not why I like you. I like you for other reasons." I want to marry. I want a wife and kids. I want that kind of life. I want to fall in love with someone and marry them. That's how I want that kind of life. It genuinely feels like the kind of guy who tells his friend with benefits that he wants to fuck their mutual friend is not going to get married. I mean, he easily could, but I wouldn't deserve it. I don't feel like my problems are conducive to a good life for a wife and children. God, I want to hurt myself. That's what this comes down to. J don't even care if my argument about me thinking I shouldn't get married makes any sense. I just want to hurt myself. I hate myself. Could I then love my family if I were to have my own?
Tomorrow is the Showcase. I get to film that. I get to organize it. I should be looking forward to that. I am, but I feel like the fucking last guy to manage anything.
I wish I could love, but I feel like I can't. I meant what I said, R--hel. I'm too fucked up for a relationship.
