I’ve been having some really good times recently, and I feel like it’s made me over hopeful about my life. What do you guys think?
All of me is very pathetic: I am not overweight, but am by no means strong, nor do I possess any significant measure of success or unique strength in any certain area. I work, eat- though sometimes I wish that I didn’t-, sleep, and spend the rest of the time just being lonely and writing about people that I see. It’s embarrassingly lame.
I am tired too: I don’t have anyone to just rest with. I watch porn because I’m so fracking lonely; I cry because it’s pathetic; then I pretend it didn’t happen, almost never really confronting it as an issue. I lie about it, ignore it, and dream that I am actually some human battery being used for a machine-run matrix or some other complicated bullshite.
I hate the wind and I despise its gale;
I hate when it strikes the top mast and sail.
I’d much prefer to climb the stairs to heaven’s gate
Than stay on earth, left to men, and man’s fate.
But the ship steers away; it’s breaking off due south,
Bound for a bitter land; heading for trade of mouth.
In this light, I cannot see; under the sun, I am blind.
I hope, I pray, I dream, that in this land, you are what I find.
I hate small talk, and chide others for resorting to it in conversation, but I guess it is a good way to start a talk with others. So, what kind of weather do you guys prefer? Cold or hot? Wet and rainy or dry and windy? Winter, summer, spring, or fall?
Also, are your preferences tied to any childhood/cherished memories that make you feel good? Any nostalgia linked to the weather?
I felt kinda lonely, and just wanted to chat. I hope someone answers this.
I feel so lost right now: one of my few close friends- a girl- made me feel…………..special. We had just gone to see a marvel movie, and we were in the car, just chatting. I had previously mentioned to her passingly in the last week or so that I thought that I was going to being moving away soon, and she had reacted in a semi-sad, but mostly just bummed out way. But I brought the subject up again in the car, because I wanted to get her opinion on the whole thing. She started tearing up and sad that she’d really miss me. I didn’t believe it at first: I had long ago convinced myself that nobody could make me feel like they actually loved me, in any kind of relationship. But she meant it; she really did. I asked her why. She said because she thought I was a wonderful person, and that she could be “herself” in a sense around me. I said that I was a horrible person, and then I also teared up. A few seconds later, I was weeping into the armrest of my car, and she was holding my head in her hands, then my hand in her warm, living fingers.
I didn’t know what else to do. I had always dreamed of being deadly honest with someone I could trust to understand about what I went through every day of my life, but when it had actually happened, it was so surreal. I almost still believe that it was a dream or hallucination; that, or that she’ll back out of meeting again, or that I messed our friendship up somehow. I’ve been praying almost constantly about it and her, and her salvation- I am a Christian and she isn’t anything-, and I just can’t decide if I did the right thing by opening up to her like that.
It felt so good: it wasn’t awkward or sexual; just her crying with me, holding me; just us sharing hurt and making each other feel better. We shared memories and told each other hard stories nobody else knew.
I had always thought that she was like everyone else that I knew: fake, shallow, and not interested in real, painful things, let alone someone like me being so messed up and all. Sometimes I saw how different she was, but I was oblivious because she still did a lot of the same social lies others did. I had no idea she cared about me that much.
In that moment, she was more real that anybody I’d ever seen. It was exactly like being a baby again and finding literally NEW things, because it was that. Her face was different, so changed by crying; it made her real. I could hear her better now; feel her more as a person.
Basically, I desperately want to keep this going, keep opening up to her, and help her as she helps me, but I don’t know if that’s the best thing to do. I don’t want to lead her on into thinking I “like” her; I might still move; and I am afraid of her rejecting or not “understanding” something about me enough. Anyone care? Is anyone here to share an opinion or give their piece of pie advice?
I go away, bound for a new land; my heart is clenched, and my ticket in hand.
In just a few days, this town I’ll ne’er see again; its pubs and libraries’ll be lost till who knows when.
I’ll ne’er forget or lose sight of those few I took heart with. In specific, and more so of late, one named Cat:
She’s always fresh in my mind, even since the first day we met- over a recently purchased elephant.
Her hair is like ginger root, glowing with a golden hue in the evening sun and her glowing rays;
Her eyes hold in them a soul of yearning and contemplation; milky ground chestnut and sprinkled Spirit.
I’d like to have helped her before I left. I really would have.
I cannot help anyone, let alone myself. My friends are suffering, and I am helpless to aid them.
It’s foul, and I hate it.
I often don’t have much time to myself; that, or I have so much I get slumped into massive periods of immense depression. I prefer to be more busy than free, but I’d enjoy finding a rhythm in life. I work, my classes, and immediate family favors; after that, I have some time to drive where I will. More often than not, I drive up to a cemetery to relax- the dead make me feel at peace. Maybe that’s weird; maybe it’s even disturbing, makes me a freak. I just don’t like noise and unpredictable people; so, being around “people” I know won’t disturb me or make any sound makes me feel like I’m in control and gives a sense of washing silence over my mind. A bit poetic there, but hey, it’s true.
I feel like the internet is similar: of course, the people here are usually alive- usually-, but there is the exact same sense of disconnection from life-like interactions; a place where people are as vast and different as the grains of the desert sea. Opinions are thrown out like trash on the world wide web, or guarded close to the heart. It amazes me.
Anyway, thanks for listening to me ramble on about my specific and lame time schedule.
I’ll be posting here more often, and am willing to talk to anyone about anything if they ask me: I promise to try to answer ANY question put before me. Thanks, and have a good night/morning.
I wonder if anyone who also writes here knows me in real life. Often I hear of people recognizing each other on this platform, or meeting in real life and figuring it out. I doubt anyone knows me though: no common circles; really, a sure chance I am alone on here just like I am in real life. yesterday I was frank with my counselor- sometimes I lie without meaning to; I kinda just forget what I feel, or I cannot seem to speak what is in my mind. I told her that I was more alone than I have been in a while; or, essentially, I feel more detached from the few I know at this time than I’ve felt before.
I know that nobody is perfect, and that there isn’t some mysterious wonder woman out there for me, but a little love would be nice; just even a slim gesture of a companion or a good friend would be very appreciated. I have a couple friends, but I can only call them that in then sense that I help them more than they help me. Mostly, I know people who need emotional help or mental aid, and I am there for them, but they either can’t or aren’t there for me. I am so damn tired of it. It’s not that I don’t like helping them, quite the opposite; or even that they themselves wear me out: what exhausts me is that I wait and I wait, more or less patiently, but never find anyone that is at my level, can take who I am and accept and love it, and also be either physically or emotionally there for me. I just haven’t.
Sometimes I give up, doubt God, and throw away my hopes for a companion; other times, I find strange feelings of hope and throw myself back into God’s arms, dearly dreaming of she who might be.
Sorry for the long post. If anyone wants to comment, I’d appreciate it, but I doubt many or any at all will.
I am tired; I am worn: my eyes falter, and fail, wishing of and seeing only what I’ll never have- a lover: one of with whom I would love with, love things, make love, and care for love. I lust with myself to faceless women with wordless mouths and tear-less eyes. After all things, my heart is well traveled; for, despite not finding love as of yet, it seems as though emotions can be harmed without being brought out to the light. This makes me bitter: my lips let my tongue out, to speak vile things to innocent and unsuspecting family members and odd and awkward questions to friends- the few of whom remain. I think and consider seriously death now more and more, often weighing my sorrow against the distraught tatters of my act: thinking of my parents, and now moved away siblings- what would my suicide do to them; how selfish would that be for my to take my own God given life?
Take the sorrow, tinged harkened green,
And take the weary luck too;
For I’d far soon rather go unseen
Into forests and caves with you.
I am sorry. I’m a stupid, broken, fat failure, and can never be loved.
All these people, they stare at me;
They aren’t my equal, but I’m no good:
I want to run far away, but cannot feel my legs;
And if there were a finch, I’d keep it if I could.
All these people, they make me insecure;
I cannot keep my mind on what I have to do
If everyone and everything hurts, and there’s no cure.
If only I had a single place; but one happy thing.
All these people don’t make any sense;
I’d rather talk to rust forming on a fence.
They prefer to lie about every little thing,
But that makes understanding hard to outward bring.
I wish that all these people would just give the shit a rest;
That way I’d find a way to love, and not life protest.
The title makes the theme pretty clear: I have buttloads of Social Anxiety, and it is a living Hell dealing with, ignoring, or confronting it on a daily, and sometimes, hourly basis. I have battled against it my whole memorable life, and I’ve had it up to here- *raises hand to tippy top of head* -with all the bullshit.
I had an amazing day today/yesterday, but all I can think about, all the thoughts I can conjure and obsess over are, “what if I fucked it up? What if the people I talked to and had coffee with in that wonderful, cozy cafe think I am too much, or even worse, can never bring themselves to understand who I am?”. It keeps running through my head, over and over and over again: “You messed it up man; you done fucked up. She won’t really want to be friends with you, let alone like who you are for you. You might as well become reclusive and quit before she leaves you like the rest do.” I always go too fast; come on too hard for people, and it blows up in my face. I’ve never gotten along with shallow people; and, though I admit I have hated them off and on, in the end, them and I just don’t mix well- and that leaves me with a very “shallow” pool of people to choose from: the damaged folk, who’re unable to give back in a friendship; the “I’m just like you, but live way the fuck far away” folk, who, for clear reasons, cannot be in the picture; and, lastly, and definitely least, the end. That’s it; there aren’t any more people.
The worst part is that I cannot make it alone: I really, really want to be able to do that, and I am VERY introverted- though pretend to be an Extrovert to please other people-, but I desperately wish for and desire a few close, understanding, and intimate friends; and, in the long run, a gf/wife. But, as I have for so long, I must wait. I am okay with that, I just wish today was the day; I just wish that this hour was the hour. But, that isn’t how the world or God works.
Thanks for getting this far- *waves to nobody- no one read this*. I hope your lives are at least a bit better than mine.
Appreciate those in your life who love you, and whom you love.
If you’ve ever seen any of my previous posts on my chronic mental and emotional afflictions, then you must know this: that I am in pain; and, for most people- if not all- pain is something people hate. They most often turn to addiction or something essentially the same to hide or suppress their issue, whatever it may be.
I myself have had addiction issues before, and still struggle with an addiction to Pornography. That, and my depression and all around loneliness will be the topics I so boringly lay out before you all in this post today.
Since a very young age, I have been obsessed with finding a girl to love. I saw girls and women; bodies and minds, but did not know what they meant, or even what they were. Then, as I found porn, I discovered how beautiful they were; albeit from the most perverse and rotten possible method, I had indeed found beauty and loveliness incarnate.
For years and years; for whole seasons of my life, I learned the ways of people: how to smile and interpret faces; how to laugh for real, and a polite, tidy guffaw. But in the midst of all of these things, not once had I found love; nor, to an ever growing and ever expanding sense of dread and, indeed, sadness within me, had I found a companion.
In the Garden of Eden, where Adam, the first Man, Made by God Himself lived, he named the beasts and walked the earth; ate the fruit given to him, and breathed the air in content, forgoing one thing what he lacked: a companion. God saw that it was not right for Adam to be alone, and so, from Adam he made Eve; from Man, Woman; from first, second. To this effect, he gave Adam what he so desperately needed to live, and have joy in living.
I am worse than Adam: I am stuck with his Sin, and yet am alone; for in the depths of my heart lies only respect and love and artistic interest in girls and women, but I am restricted and by my own hand only reduced to viewing the abuse of beauty and the whoring of “love”, instead of finding its true form. I hate Porn. I HATE IT. It is total shit and has no place in the world.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I love the idea of sex- yep, I’m an adult virgin/the whole marriage thing in my other post was to hide my shame of never having had a family-, and I appreciate wholly nude art and the understanding of sexuality and the likeness, but Porn is none of those things: it is evil, it is vile; its tongue holds the interest and intent of lust alone, not love or caring or compromise. Its heart is of rape and violence; and beyond its outer coat of rightful desire, there lies alone, the craving of a madman and the marked depression of the lonely who roam the night.
I don’t even want someone to have sex with- not yet. All I want; all I have been dreaming of, is a girl to hold, and hold me back; a soft, warm being to be beside me; to speak to me, and kiss my nose. I want someone to watch movies with at the 11:00 pm showing, when usually I am all alone, sitting all cold and lonesome in the top section. I want another hand to squeeze and make myself calm by. I know what I want can never happen, and I am fully aware of how stupid it is for me to look after this foolish concept; I just wish it could be. A thousand stars to all of the wonderful, intelligent, curious women I know, who’ll never love me, let alone understand or have an interest in me.
I am the kind of man who is always in the friendzone; and, mostly, that is what I want. Women are my friend, and neither of us ever try anything. But, as time goes on, I find myself wishing there would come one who’d prove me a man.
I have Tourette’s Syndrome; OCD; light Autism; chronic and crippling depression, anxiety, and various medical differences/flaws/disorders. My Tourette’s- or tics, as they are often called-. manifest themselves mostly in my mind. With the exception of a few verbal tics, and a plethora of motor/physical tics, I can hide the urges and pain which plagues and afflicts me at my every waking moment. My wife and the rest of my immediate family are all well aware of my suffering; they, unfortunately, however, realize or wish to realize the full extent to which I am truly in pain. The only spans of consciousness wherein I draw pleasure is when I sleep. But, even there, in the land of dreams and nightmares, I find nothing much past lies and subconscious deception. When I do sleep, I fall in and out of cycles of painful, but much appreciated dreams where I meet someone who will solve all of my issues, who then promptly gets killed before my eyes in gruesome and malicious methods each and every time. Often I go for months without seeing the person in my dreams; sometimes I see the person every night. That is only during the part of the night when I am actually asleep. When I am attempting sleep, any number of pains and illnesses are pressed upon me. I have a connective tissue disorder, and my eyelashes continually fall down into and or droop into my eye balls, leaving me constantly blinking and tearing up for hours. My eyes also continually burn due to the horrible air quality in my country, and my allergies. During the day is infinitely worse though: every single damn thing I hear, smell, taste, feel, or see causes me incredible pain. I can only contain it by using most of my energy and all of my waking time to practicing to hide and pretend that I am normal. My parents- and my wife- have always told me that I should “be myself”, but when I try to be myself, even a little bit, they attack that aspect of me. whether actively, or without meaning to. I want to enjoy hugging people; I want to love holding my child’s hands; and I also want to take pleasure in just existing- but none of that is possible, and hasn’t been since I can remember. I have and still am overwhelmed by all the pain and lack of any real way to find any joy at all. I have tried to end my life 11 times in the past, and have considered/planned out my suicide 2 times in recent years. I don’t do drugs of any kind whatsoever; I do not smoke or drink; I have a strict but sane diet and regularly exercise, but rest when necessary. I take part in community activities; I don’t hate my job, and am good at it; and I study many academic fields out of pure interest in them. To anyone looking at me, I am a weird, unique, but very HAPPY person. I cannot remember a span of time longer than a week or so where I have been even marginally happy. Please help. Any comment is appreciated, and would help me.