9 Dec 2020

 It’s now 9 dec 2020, just past midnight. Well, in Austin Tx at least...

Is that important to anyone? Maybe the folks who were born on this day.

{ Oh yeah, I need to craft a gift for one of them - I was thinking of turning a hardcover book into a doodle book / scrap book / coupon book... (well, starting it, at least; and hoping it will be shared forward) }

I feel really defeated and just want to curl up and die...

did you hear the rumor that I started crying uncontrollably while reading the 9th Step promises at an AA meeting? Well, it’s true. All their grand varieties of peace and serenity seem so distant from my life, right now. My unmanageability feels ... well, “ unmanageable “

I feel horribly unattractive... ignored... invisible... despised.

Some would rather have their cigarettes out in the alley, then spend time, inside, with me - and that is addiction at its finest.

I could be a snob, and claim there’s better organizations that I could associate with. I could turn my back on those who only turn to me when they need me. It’s classic elitism, there.

I could lower my standards to better fit in, instead of trying to get others to raise theirs : like the smart date playing dumb... or embracing hedonism because morality stifles. Ultimately, that’s not being true to myself.

I have to accept that my personal code of conduct and collection of interests does not always intersect well with majority opinions. Some times, I have to own and take some pride in my weirdness, for perhaps it might brighten another’s day.

Yet, “fear of the pariah”, I still want to die... because I believe I live an invalidated life. Nobody wants what I have; as it doesn’t synch up well with the ideals they’re fed.

Honestly - that’s just a bunch of hypothesizing. I can not claim any truth to it.

I am afraid of living more years ahead, alone. I want a partner who I could explore physical intimacy with. I want companion(s) to share the world’s activities with. I want a community where I feel safe and secure being true to myself and my interests, who both share similar ideas and yet respect the diversity in differences in ideas.

I fear this world; because everyone is trying to be right... and we’ve adopted dangerous tactics to shame others into thinking they’re wrong.

Maybe that’s the start of a soap box. I don’t know.

I do not like being outside the campfire, left to fend for myself among the beasts of the night. Strange analogy? I do not like that I’m alone and probably irreversibly so, because I did not spend any significant time dating before age 45.

I look at my “accomplishments” and I despair. There’s that insidious voice, with me over the last 22 years: ‘Give up your mortal coil, for others could prosper on the resources you’re wasting...’

I sink deep into pity, again and again. I hope, by broadcasting my struggle, that maybe somebody might see value where I do not and lift me out of this jagged cutting heap of shattered goals and dreams. I hop, by giving it a voice, that my misery will it be with me, as I try to sleep, tonight. I scream because I have yet to learn how to live. Even if I were to live, I still die because I can not thrive.

Yet, it is just a spiritual death. My body keeps shambling along, while my mind keeps chasing distractions. Who would want to connect with a man who’s lost his soul?