I like these lyrics.

they say misery loves company
we could start a company
and make misery

frustrated incorporated
i know just what you need
i might just have the thing
i know what you'd pay to see

put me outta my misery
i'd do it for you, would ya do it for me?
we will always be busy
making misery

we could build a factory
and make misery
we'll create the cure
we made the disease

frustrated incorporated
i know just what you need
i might just have the thing
i know what you'd pay to feel

put me outta my misery
all you suicide kings
and you drama queens
forever after happliy
making misery

did you satisfy your greed?
get what you need?
was it only envy, so empty

frustrated incorporated (x4)

Current Mood: depressed

Candace and I have seperated after 10 months. I still care for her and I wish her well. I really don't want to talk about it.

I've been thinking about killing myself. It is clear now that at no time have I ever been loved. I don't know if I will do it this time or not.

I really do hate money. You have to work to earn it, so you can blow it, to stay alive. Gotta have money to eat, to feed others, to pay the bills, to get back and forth to your job, yet there is never enough of it. Plus, it stresses people out. I know I'm stressed out, all the time over it. I try to be a good provider, a good b/f, a good parental unit, but it just seems like lately I've been sucking at it all, because I am always worried about money.

I am getting somewhat paranoided over the whole thing actually, like those people I love, are beginning to hate me. Of course they have the right too, I am grumpy a lot anymore. Part of the reason is the lack of money, and the other reason is my job. I hate my job so very much. Literally, I can't stand to walk into that building. It makes me sick to my stomach. I go and I sit in a "pod" (cubical) for 10 hours a night, during which time I will deal with a number of stupid issues. From a team lead who hasn't caught onto the fact that I do know what I am doing, my former team lead, who knows I know what I am doing, but is going through a series of problems herself. The new guy who decides to ask me the same question 100 times a night. And for what?  Shitty pay, now granted most people would consider 16/hour good, but not me. Not for this line of work, and this amount of work. They expect you to do the work of 3 people a night, and will jump your ass if it's not done. Of course, they now know that I am a pit bull ready to snap on them at any minute. I have and will jump down anyone's throat who decides to jump mine. I'm not worried about what will happen. I don't get paid enough to be chewed out.

So I deal with what amounts to three people's work a night, dealing with a bunch of pointless and utter bullshit that fills our night, and putting up with the half witted ideas of the uppers, who are about as smart as your average yard gnome.  Sadly, this comes home with me. I can't seperate work for myself in the mornings. So I come home mental, and emotionally worn out, as well as physically, becuase I've been up for 12-14 hours. I know I have to go back to it the next night.

But I can't quit. The job market sucks right now, and I want to provide for my wonderful girlfriend and her son. I love those two to death, but I worry I am going to drive them away. I try to be a good b/f, but I don't know if I am or not.

I can understand why Comic Book Supervillians want to blow up the earth. Hell, sign me up as a Supervillian! I'm tired of everything. I am being treated as some sort of plague on everybody.  IBM is dragging their ass on hiring me, and instead of people being supportive about my future job. They have somehow figured out that if they treat me like a second class citizen and think that somehow this is all my fault, for IBM dragging ass that I am to blame.  Now, I'm fully convinced that these people decide if they harass me constantly about it, that somehow the job will magically appear like a pot of gold. When in reality all these people who are hounding me daily about it are just driving me deeper and deeper into depression, and stressing me out more than I can handle. My body is already rejecting me.

Because what I feel they fail to realize is that I'm more stressed out and worried about getting to work than they are. I want to tell these people to just go "Fuck Themselves". But these are the people I love and care about.  So of course, I have to keep my damn mouth shut because it would be mean, and I would hurt feelings by saying what I want to say. So lets add an extra helping of stress on top of all the stress they are causing me. YAY! I'm in a damned if you do, damned if you don't position. 

It doesn't help matters that I'm being detoxed off of celexa, and spend half of my days dizzy as hell, and the other half with a headache. It doesn't matter I'm getting physically ill over all the stress. I mean any day now, I'm going to start throwing up blood again, and I know I'll still hear some bs about me not working yet.

So, I turn to my comic book super villians. They hatch the best places, and really they would help with the stress. Sending a nuclear device to the core of the earth, blowing it up would be awesome. It would only take a few hours. Then no more problems. Or how about turning everyone into mindless drooling zombies, doing the bidding of the villian. That would be nice. There would be job security, no stress, no worrying about money. But of course some superhero would foil both those plans in the nick of time. These Superheroes need to think about people like me who already says FUCK!

I'm ranting. I want to feel like I matter to people, that I am trying to land this great job, with a great company, a company I can build a future on. But hey what do I matter right?

Galactus, Doctor Doom, Red Skull come on guys hook a crazy, depressed, stressed, sick guy out will you? I'll be your damn minion.

Current Mood: stressed

My mind says one thing, and my body tells me another thing. My body tells me that I am overly depressed. So much so that I am showing all the physical aspects of depression. Crawling out of bed is one of the most difficult things for me to do in the morning. Going back to bed is so easy that I just lay there for hours on end doing nothing but laying there. Why? That's what my body wants. However, my brain is all the while going, "Happy Happy Joy Joy, Happy Happy Joy Joy!" My mind is ready to run a marathon, do back flips, it's all rainbows and butterflies.

So what has happened that my wiring is all jacked up. I don't know, but I went to my head shrinker today and we started the process of detoxing me off of Celexa. The reasoning is that the drugs don't work. We've gone over the max a person should take, with no effect. It creates in me these very high (manic) moments, and these very low (depression) moments. All within the same day. So the doctor wants to see how I behave over the next month, while lowering the doseage of Celexa. 

My mood swings will vary from happy, to sad, to lively, to kill me now. I hate putting all my loved ones, and my friends through this burden that I should bare alone, but I know that they will not allow me to walk alone. So right here, right now, I am issuing a public apology for my behavior over the course of the next month.

I love you all! 

 [WARNING: The following post is very long, and I've poured a lot of emotion and feeling into it. There are some very dark, deep things about me in this post that will not be easy for you all to read. I am sorry. It might upset you. It might damn well piss you off. Again, I am sorry. I felt that for me to get to my conclusion, you needed to have the beginning of all of this.]

Life, it's an interesting game. Six months ago if you told me I would be on this path, I would have laughed you out of the room and drank myself under a table. I remember the first weekend of January that I was sitting in a bar in Iowa, talking about how undesirable I was. I remember my friends spent the weekend with a loved one, or talking about a loved one. Meanwhile, I sat there alone, alienated from the majority of the people. The lone gunman, the fifth wheel.  I have friends I could talk too, and I had "booty calls" that I could have. However, I had stopped using women for sex in September when I almost committed suicide. 

I'd force myself into a vicious cycle of use and abuse. I would find a girl and proceed to use her as an object of sex. Once I finished with her. I lost complete interest in that individual. In my mind, I was fulfilling what I felt was nothing more than a basic animal instinct. Because that, in large, is what sex is. A basic animal instinct. Animals use it in order to carry on genetic material to the next generation, to further the species. Humans use it as the same, but they also associate it with recreation, which I have no problem with still to this day. However, I was taking it to the next plain. I was a Hedonist. I feel a better term for me is actually, I was a Cyrenaic. Cyrenaicism is a ultra-hedonistic viewpoint, which was founded by Aristippus of Cyrene, it is one of the earliest schools of Socratic thought. The belief within the Cyrenaic school is that physical or bodily pleasure was the most important thing to achieve. 

I subscribed to this school of thought. Sex is the ultimate pinnacle of physical pleasure. Scared of opening myself up mentally or emotional due to childhood abuse, and a fiancee who cheated on me, and broke up with me on my birthday. I turned off the emotional outlets of my personality. I became in essence a man whore. One could not be hurt emotionally or mentally if one did not allow anyone else into those faucets of life. So I turned to Cyrenaics for peace, for comfort. Much like people turn to drugs. It was sex that I turned to when I had problems. Have an issue at work, go fuck. School stressing me out, go screw. Life is just sucky, go out and bang bang bang! From 2002 onward, I followed this philosophy. I spouted the virtues of Physical pleasure, over emotional pleasure so much that I myself began to believe my own lies. I was bound and determined to become the Grand Preist, The Pope, Chief Rabbi, The Imam of Cyrenaics.  

It became a game of sorts for me. How many women can I sleep with in a day, a week, a month, a year. Married, barely out of high school, boyfriend broke up with them an hour ago, no one wants them, older, younger, my age. It didn't matter. I was searching out my next "hit" like a crack fiend looking for his next high. This was my existence. This was my being. My reasoning for living.

As I stated, any problems in my life, I solved through sex. I also suffer from depression. It is not an easy thing to live with at all. In fact, it is quite the pain in the ass. Those who aren't depressed can't understand how dangerous it is. For months I woke up went to work, worked 16 hours, came home slept 6, got up went to work, worked 16 hours, came home slept 6. I was a machine. People at work joked about me being this machine who required very little sleep and a lot of Diet Mountain Dew to function. I felt that this was who I was. Just a machine, nothing more. By August my depression had taken hold of me, and wouldn't let up. Add to that a horrible birthday, and extra stress at work lead me to start considering other alternatives to living. 

On September 25, 2007, I got home from work at 8 a.m. like I did almost every morning. I waiting until my roommate was in class. My mother was working. I locked the front and back doors to my place, to ensure that someone just couldn't walk in. I grabbed a bottle of vodka from the liquor cabinet. I arranged 30 pain killers (2 different types) on my computer desk, about 10 muscle relaxers, that I had a prescription for, and 5 xanex. They were all right there in front of me. A bottle of Smirnoff vodka and a glass of water sat in front of me. I was going to take the pain killers to help ease me, the muscle relaxers to slow my muscles, and the xanex to put me to sleep. I had started typing the letter to my mother to explain why I did what I did. Account numbers, ways to access my accounts to help with the funeral. It was all right there. But I stopped myself. Why? I can't tell you why that telephone call from work snapped me out of it. I can't tell you why having a sudden thought of playing trivia the next night, help pull me from my attempt. I had nothing to live for. Sure, everyone would mourn me, but in my mind I would no longer be a burden to anyone. That in itself was worth it. I felt I was doing the world a favor. I returned all the pills to the proper places. Unlocked the back door, deleted the letter, put the vodka back, took my normal medicines and went to bed. On the drive home the next morning I started thinking about doing it again. That's when I called for help. I called the University Health Department and set up an appointment.

I also took a vow of celibacy that day. Until I could get my own self straighten out, I couldn't afford to relapse and start doing those things which ultimately led to me trying to kill myself. However, I was put on medicines, but I was still alone. Convinced that no one could or would ever love me. That those who said they did were mad, and needed help. 

In January of 2008, a friend of mine told me he was getting married and he asked if I would be in his wedding. I joked with him that he and his fiancee should find me a hot bridesmaid so I can have sex with her in the middle of the ceremony. A week or so later, I'm told that I needed to start talking to this girl. So I took their advice thinking that I could make another friend within the Camarilla. I was always cool with making a new friend. They however, had different ideas. They wanted to see me happy. This was a new concept for me. Me, happy? So I started talking to this girl, expecting nothing.

We talked for hours, without pausing. We talked about everything and anything. Life, history, games, etc. We discussed it openly and honestly. It was refreshing to find someone so easy to talk too. Then we talked again and again, and every time we talked I was MORE AND MORE excited to talk to her. We decided to meet. My friends were trying to pressure me to get her up here as quick as I could. They thought it would be good for me. I'd determined that I was feeling something I hadn't felt in what seemed like an eon. That damnable curse that the human race is forced to having. The greatest WMD ever created. Wars had been caused by it. Men, went to there deaths to prove it. The greats wrote about the virtues and the extremes one would take to reach and to hold this damnable curse known as love. Here I was, over a half of a decade gone, since the last time I felt it. It overfilled me, it consumed me whole, and wouldn't let go. We both fought saying it for a while, using codes such as, "I really like you". But it didn't whole up long. Two weeks before her visit we were proclaiming our love for one another. 

When I first laid eyes on her, on that snowy Feb. day in the Tulsa Airport, I knew it really was love. She confirmed it by looking in my eyes the same way I looked into hers. That first kiss, I knew I would be happy with this woman until the day I died from old age. 

Our journey isn't fairy tale. It's never going to be made into a movie of the week on ABC, but it is real, it is true. She lives in Florida, I in Arkansas. We've had argument and disagreements. But which couple doesn't. I can safely say that I love her more and more everyday. Even depressed and wanting to die, as I have been lately. She has always been my rock.

Now we are getting ready for her to move to Arkansas, with her awesome son, for us to start our lives together. I am so overly excited about this prospect.

Yet, I still have my fears, my reservations. I've never lived with a woman I am head over heels in love with. A woman I will do anything and everything for to make her happy, and ensure she knows that my love for her is undying. However, I am scared.  I have very low self esteem. Years of abuse beat it out of me. I have felt since the day I met her, I have felt she could do better than me. That she deserves better than me. I'm damaged property, as you can see in this post. I am not 100% percent here. Because of this, I have a lot of self doubts, I can be a bit worrisome and annoying. I hate confrontation and fighting,  and try to steer clear of it all. I worry every waking moment of every day that she will find that someone better. Even after she reassures me 20 times a day that she is here for the long haul. 

I can say this much, despite my shortcomings and there are many, I would give up everything, including my life to spend my life with her. To see her smile. To see her eyes light up at my presence. She is the one for me. I say this without hesitation. Without a second thought. I love and trust her  I know that no matter what she will not hurt me (this is also something I am trying to get use too.) I want our love to rival that of Romeo and Juliet. I am willing to launch a thousand ships in her honor, to prove my love.

I've written all this down. The good and the bad, to tell of how unbelievable it is for someone who thought so little of himself to be sitting here today, saying how fortunate I am to have the love of my girlfriend. I know the tale wasn't easy. But to understand where I am going, you have to understand where I have been.

All I can do, is give her love, honor and trust her. Protect and serve her. Strive to make her happy, when she is sad. To pick her up when she is down. To nurse her back to health when she is sick and to hold her hand, just because I want to feel her physically touching me, as she already holds my beating heart in my chest, and honors me with the sweetest gift she could have ever granted me. Her unconditional love.

I love you Candace. I always have, and always will.

Current Mood: loved