So I finally move out of a horrible living situation and move into a new apartment and bam! I find a roach in my bathroom, albeit small one, but still, a roach.
Derailed my whole “new reality” I was trying to create. Lame. Deflated.
So a couple of weeks ago I told my mother I had a psychologist put the diagnostic manual to my brain and it turned out I have borderline personality disorder and severe depression. She told me not to take such tests. Good advice. But when I told her I was on anti-depressants at one point–a year prior, early 2009–and had to get off them because I was suicidal, she didn’t flip out. She didn’t sound too concerned, which I thought such suicide-talk would make her flip given her emotionality for such things over her lifetime…so I took this as permission. After all, she is the only person I am hanging around for at this point.
So I hate living in this ghetto. I had tunnel vision moving here, in haste, and now I am regretting it. A 7 month lease. My skin is crawling. So I call my mom, again, a couple of days ago because she has killed many roaches in her day, and she gave me the run-down that I already knew about roaches (I was just worried and wanted to hear her solutions) and she also said “and don’t visit me, I love you but I don’t love you that much” because roaches hide in your clothes and baggage and such and we both know this. She was kidding but not really, she hates roaches as much as I do, we grew up in SoCal.
So here I am in this roach motel and I can’t bring myself to see any sunny side to this. There is no continuum for me. If there is one roach it is an infestation. I am disgusted.
So I got my permission.
Permission. The despair and sadness that I foresaw/imagined that my mother might have in the event of my early passing is no longer and issue…at least that is what I am telling myself now There is no need to go on. I am having an early mid-life crisis. And to cap it all off, which has been an issue for eons, I have no one. I have no significant man or woman that is, well, significant (I am bisexual), and worse yet, no prospects in acquiring someone like that in my life. So what’s the point?
I am just a 30 something bisexual person with borderline personality disorder, roaches in my bathroom, and a mother that is ho-hum about my existence.
So if you know this song by Faith No More it goes something like this:
Go on and wring my neck
Like when a rag gets wet
A little discipline
For my pet genius
My head is like lettuce
Go on dig your thumbs in
I cannot stop giving in
Written by Mike Patton I think, called “Mid-Life Crisis”. Anyway, if you have ever played GTA San Andreas this song is featured on the radio as you drive around the city; the haunting thing is what the DJ says, concerning a mid-life crisis: at the end of the song she says “I will never hit one of those, that’s what suicide is for.” Being who I am I cannot agree more, yet I am in it and I didn’t do before all of this agony.
I haven’t achieved. The world covets, people covet, all this material bullcrap possessions, I have never really cared until I found a roach in my bathroom. Now I am what all those who covet say I am. I live in the ghetto. And I am without anyone. Adrift. And for what? I tried to create the reality I sought, selfishness and all and even more so now so I can escape. But escape to what?
It’s the world we live on/in. I am not a slave, I have found remedies to debt, remedies to slavery, which has been effective, here and there. But I don’t wish to take part any longer, in anything. I wish to just leave. Peaceably. Things are going down soon anyway. California may just roll off into the ocean. So why not just leave before the show?
“God doesn’t make the world this way, we do.”
It is so true. I tried to manifest a different reality, it didn’t work out. There are too many people. Too many f-wads that wish to crush and berate and mock the competition. I have had it! If this world truly sucks how can anyone, much less God, blame anyone for punching their ticket early! Humans interpreting God’s negative-view for things such as suicide are stupid! Stupid I tell you! The energy source that created all that is isn’t vengeful. He gave us the keys to the castle, whether or not we chose to piss on it or not is moot. And whether we get sick of it and leave early makes not a bit of difference! If anything suicides must be treated with greater care once they pass because we are more sensitive than the rest of the zombies that think that continuing this futility is a good idea.