What's new with the Temp⏳?

We're struggling, The Temporal System. Our best friends are so busy with their lives, we can't ask anything from them. Especially not their time. Sam has decided that she is so sad, she doesn't want to do anything but cry. Furthermore, there's a new proposal glass put up to include the rainbow in our system name. This feels really unnecessary. So it's going to have to go up for a vote. Alex feels angry that the process is so difficult, and has stopped fronting from anger and exhaustion. Zack's here, but isn't fronting anymore for reasons we don't know. He just says he's too busy to front with data analysis from the passenger seat. David accidentally spilled the box of bad thoughts and painful memories. He hasn't been the same since he saw so many at once. So I've been left here, a Connor with nobody to help me except Zack. I'm kinda ok with that. It's not often that I get to take over, but it comes with so much responsibility that I'd rather let the others take point. I'm meant to play a supporting role as the guy who helps us get along with other people. Without other people, I feel pretty free, but also chained to the work that we have to do. It's not always a pleasant thing to have so many of us with our own problems. 

Shopping

Avocados, chips, tomato, onion, cilantro, jalapeno, lime, salt, tequila, simple syrup, mint, cheese, tomatillos, and of course a new video game.

Well, ok, I may not have bought these things, but if I were to go buy something right now, those would quite possibly be the things I would get. I'm not much a fan of shopping, but if there are two things I like to shop for it's food and games.

I'm a sucker for entertainment, and I have a love of food so deep that even feeling ill often cannot prevent me from enjoying it. Most of the time, anyway.

It's just too bad that there are some things I cannot buy. More time, love (I mean real love, because obviously, it's easy to pay someone to pretend they like you for a short time), restfulness, and peace.

On the other hand, there are some things money does buy. See, the idea that money cannot buy happiness is true. It doesn't really buy a lasting happiness. But on the other hand, money does buy a slew of things that help reduce unhappiness.

I like that I have a somewhat comfortable life. I am lucky. I work hard, but I was fortunate to be born in a place and time where that hard work is possible, and where that hard work means I can be comfortable.

I'm just also sad that there are others who weren't that lucky. Would that I could buy the end to all human suffering (without human extinction). I'd give anything for people to be able to live long, happy lives. But, there just isn't enough room on my shopping list. After all, my wallet doesn't even afford avocados, chips, tomato, onion, cilantro, jalapeno, lime, salt, tequila, simple syrup, mint, cheese, tomatillos, and of course a new video game.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Closed doors

Doors serve a couple purposes. They segment a space, with walls, while providing a place of egress. But unlike open thresholds, they aren't always passable. And unlike walls, they aren't always going to keep things out.

They can serve multiple purpose, but closed doors, alone, play more roles than one. A closed door can be a manner of protecting yourself from danger, it can be a way to maintain your privacy without sacrificing the freedom to leave if desired, or it can be a way to exclude someone or something.

The phrase 'whenever a door closes a window opens' is really unusual. I get it, the idea is that just because one option becomes non-viable, doesn't mean there are no other options. But then again, who the hell typically has windows that are as big as doors and go all the way to the floor? Climbing through a window is noticeably more difficult. Additionally, since when has anyone ever slammed a window in somebody's face? I don't recall it happening much, but doors are much more common in that regard.

But the thing about closed doors is that they can be metaphorical. So when someone shuts you out of their life, that can be a closed door. And when options are dwindling, or appear to be absent, those are closed doors.

I find myself in a strange space, since I like the ability to have time to myself, I willingly close doors sometimes... but then when I want to connect, I find the doors of others are not only closed, but locked. Not all the time, but enough.

So, I'm waiting for a person who will open their door, a person with whom I can swap skeleton keys. Because I am way too big to climb through the windows.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Missed Connections

I've been single for what seems like a long time. To me, I should say, because naturally how we perceive time varies based on our age, our experiences, and other qualia.

Lately, the fact that I am single has been hitting me rather hard. It is not always a big deal (sure it would be nice to not have to deal with it again, but I can generally handle being single because less responsibility). Recently, however, I have been noticing all the missed connections I have with people. Or connections that I maybe haven't missed, but perhaps still haven't addressed yet.

I know how silly it can sound, making a love life so important. But I've seen some people I've been intrigued by lately, but despite my intentions to not miss those connections, I have been prevented from taking action. Mostly by circumstance, not by my unwillingness to talk to people. After all, if you pass a stranger on the street (fyi- just an example, I'm not literally approaching random people on the street, in case you were wondering), and you're into them but say nothing... you may never have a chance to say anything to them again. It's just how things go.

So, I've been a bit disappointed that I've missed some opportunities to get to know more about those intriguing people. Then there are the people who I like, but despite my efforts to get to know them better, it is unusually difficult. I suppose I should give myself a bit of credit, I am putting forth effort, but the connection with those people are also kinda vague. Nebulous, minor connections. I'm still working on them, but I think I may have to face the fact that it may never be a strong connection, regardless of how much time I put into it.

I long for connection with others. I feel I'm missing out on it somehow. And although I want the circumstances to change, I don't want to have to completely change who I am or how I operate just for a chance that something might happen. Maybe it is that very stubbornness to change that has led me to the point where I am. Approaching 30 years old, with less than 6 months of time in 'significant other' relationships under my belt for experience. Not sure what to do. And, for those who are reading, sorry if this isn't my normal fantasy short story type of post, but then again, the prompts do seem to imply occasionally writing real stuff, and this is Fantasy or Reality. So, today I'm being real. I hate missed connections.

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This blog post is part of a series of stories associated with Practice makes pretense, in which a collection of writing done in response to prompts is compiled. Then, the reader should answer the following two questions: 1) What was your favorite thing about the writing? 2) What did you feel as you read it?

If you would like to view the original, please visit the Practice makes pretense book on Wattpad, and respond to the writer.

Free Post - Practice Exam

Since the author of the Practice Makes Pretense book on wattage had to take a day off due to an exceptionally long post, it's a free writing day.


I've been taking the practice exam for an upcoming test. I find it relatively easy to address exams, I have no problem with the pressure they bring, but wording is always so important on them.


The difference between 'all of these are true except' and 'none of these are true except', and knowing 'which option is the best' out of four good options, but one which is correctly the 'right choice' can be a tough thing to address.


Once I know the outcome of my exam, I'll mention it here. Since it is a bit related to my job, though, the grade is not all that important, just more of whether I pass, and if so in how many tries.


Good luck to me. After days of study and hours of practice exams, I'm pumped, and I am also ready to put this course behind me. (It has been a long week, and it is only Sunday! Haha)

Edit: Passed the exam first try, with acc hour of time left.

One year later, but just the same

Last year, first month, almost exactly one year ago to the day as now, I wrote about the numbness that I have felt. A numbness that has kept me functioning, but also prevented me from experiencing satisfaction.

One year later, and the same is true. I was thinking this evening about how upset this makes me. I don't really feel anything, but on a mental level, I am angry that I can't feel.

I'm angry that I have no choice when I am alone and lonely but to remain lonely until the feeling (one of the few that actually appear) passes.

Is there something about me that needs to change to be the catalyst of feeling again? What can I do? Why does it seem like nobody wants to be around me?

I ask these questions, but I know that nobody will answer them for me. Nobody ever answers. I'm instead left hating myself for feeling less than human. I can't even tell if anyone will read these thoughts, carefully written out, a diary screaming for help, posted on the Internet for the world to see how pathetic I am. Yet I am probably so unimportant in the GRAND SCHEME of the universe, these words will probably never matter to anyone else.

In truth, I write them for me. I've changed recently, too. Recent as in... Over the past few years. I have nothing to fall back upon. Nobody and nothing to petition for help, nobody to blame for my decisions except me. It's incredibly freeing to be rational, and believe in the observable and in lucid, logic based ethical frameworks. It's also scary, having to be honest with myself about my responsibility to others in this regard.

Like most other humans, I am incredibly self centered and selfish in general. I just would rather like to have another person who I could share the good and the bad with. But people are so complex, multifaceted and each with their own unique personalities and back story. Where would I even begin? I start at the surface, because it's what I can see. That's probably the problem, but I don't know what else to do. The surface is part of the package, even if not the most important part.

I am struggling. I have resolved myself to be more bold this year, hoping that by risking more, I may reap some benefit from my efforts. Then again, I had high hopes last year, too, and I know how that ended.

Pain free; pain free; pain, free

One of the most challenging things I've faced emotionally has been a crushing numbness that predominates my life.

Clearly, it hurts. Joy, and anything related seem distant even in the moment. Like looking at a beautiful painting, but only through frosted glass.

Fear, sadness, and loneliness are also somewhat distant, but less so. Like listening to music at a volume just soft enough that the words aren't distinguishable, but the melody is.

I find myself longing for relief from this pain. The awkward part is that actually feeling the pain that is likely the source of the numbness would probably relieve it, but the numbness relieves that pain.

So, maybe what I am asking for is a solution to the problem. I don't feel like getting hurt will help, but the status-quo is certainly not helpful.

I am being forced to choose between self destruction and long term suffering, perhaps at my own hands.

I have felt like this for long enough that I can barely recognize where the deep hurt backing me into the corner is coming from. I have a vague sense that my life is dissatisfactory, and the things I would like to have are uncontrollably beyond my reach, but easily within my power to reject should they come close enough.

People. Relationships. Meaning. Closeness. I want it, but not some surface level swill. I don't want acquaintances. I don't like them. It's superficial. It's a social obligation.

So many "friends" on Facebook, maybe you even, but how often do we do things together? If you or I disappeared from each other's lives, would we be truly upset? Would we notice?

I share common struggles with people who I know. Perhaps you, once again. Yet a common struggle, however real, makes poor foundation for more, I find, than an outlet to vent or a shallow agreement that life is imperfect and often cruel.

Another year filled with empty days to look forward to. Some filled with events, others not. Hope: what a nice thing to have. If only.

Happy endings feel so bad

I watched a heartwarming film on Thursday. It was a wonderful story about love that started out as just a random meeting at school. It ended with two of the protagonists ending up together.

I enjoyed this film greatly. Following the usual path of meeting, discovery, awkwardness, and resolution, it was still satisfying.

But the happy ending ended up feeling quite sad for me, personally. I always wanted some companionship, but have grown up in a place where I'm far removed from the kind of scenario shown in that film. Even now, far removed from school, I find myself isolated and quite lonely for the companionship of another.

I'm a little jealous, if I'm honest, of the people that got to experience some kind of young love, or dating, while still in school. I experienced little more than being either in trouble, or being a laughingstock.

I'm older now, my school days are behind me. I can't go back, but then again, if going back meant having to go through all the stuff I went through again, being laughed at and punished for seeking companionship, I wouldn't choose to go back. That is, if it were even an option.

I'm frustrated by my circumstances, but I'm also sure that people would say that if it bothers me that much, I should be doing more to change them. As if it is that simple. Or maybe it is, and it hasn't been enough of a priority yet. Either way it still hurts.

The worst pain I can imagine is the pain felt when my body and soul both hurt and there's nothing that can be done. I'm not exactly there, but these feelings are so strong and so difficult, it figuratively hurts to the point of feeling it physically. Worst of all is that no matter how it hurts, I still find it nearly impossible to cry. Not because I don't want to, but because of the emotional, spiritual, and verbal abuse I experienced in my youth, I can only cry in times of similar levels of torment.

The tears don't come, and so the pain stays where it is, building up, nowhere to escape it. So maybe I should stop reading and watching things with happy endings. After all, not everyone gets one.

More, again

I just want to take a moment to vent.

I am sad. Disappointed, and angry at myself. I never seem to fall for guys I have any chance of being with.

Another crush, probably the most powerful one I've had in a decade has resulted in the truth of the futility of my feelings being made plain again.

Why am I even trying?

My actions proving pointless endeavors, accomplishing not my goals, but yet more cruel torture.

I am having a hard time coping with these feelings. I dare not allow myself to feel them, doing so would thus crush me, destroy me as I would lose what little good I have somehow stockpiled. My endeavors of freedom from debt would vanish as I would become unable to move, much less work.

I dare not numb these feelings, either. To do so will again slay the connection to my emotions. Something hard fought to forge after so many years of practiced avoidance of them.

I desire to scream "please, someone save me", but it would serve no purpose. I desire to yell at the world "someone love me!", but again nothing would be gained.

How am I able to function at all, as broken as I've become? I am less than human. I am less than alive, yet not dead.

My survival rote and I nothing more than a recording, playing back what I have practiced.

This darkness slices through my chest, and all the love, the light, the joy, all the good in my life disappears.

Even telling my family makes no difference. Telling my friends is no more than selfishly burdening them with my problems. They are powerless to help. So why share this pain with them when they hold not the cure?

I want to cry. I want to be held in a warm embrace and be told how desirable I am. I want to be reassured that love is not a pipe dream.

Instead, I lie in the darkness of my room, in a bed that is cold and empty except for myself. In the darkness, all alone, I bask in the emptiness in my heart. The place I so desperately want to fill with love for someone else, festering in my heart. My soul cries out agony in a small whimper. Too damaged to even yell any longer.

I just want someone to look at me. Nobody ever looks at me.
Why can't people see me?
Why have I become invisible?
Have I ever existed?

I will just shut up. Nobody cares about these problems anymore and even if they did, the people who care can do nothing to help. And the people who could help have no reason to do so. They do not see me, and those who see what they think of as me do not see me as desirable.

There is no point. Love is a hopeless endeavor. Should I be fortunate enough one day to be proven wrong I shall rejoice. For now, I've naught but to languish in this festering pain of disconnection and worthlessness.

I hope this pain I endure makes someone happy, as happiness is something I dare not expect to feel again.

The new year

So it's 2015 now. I suppose you could say this is the start of a new year, and in many ways it is. I could also say that this is a year of new things, new phone, new car, new interests for my love life. I suppose I should be pretty excited about all this, but when I think about it, all of these new things bring a lot of risks for me personally.

I now have to deal with car payments for the first time, have to be careful about my phone, certainly don't want it to break, and have to be careful with my heart... I'm worried that's going to break more than anything else.

So I have an interest in somebody, I haven't said anything to this person yet... Except for trying to get to know him, that is. I have no idea if he's going to have any interest in me, or if I have any chance. My biggest concern is that perhaps I may think I have a chance, only to find out I was mistaken (as usual).

I seem to have a bad habit of falling for people that are so totally beyond me. For one reason or another, these people will never be able to return my affections. Sometimes it has to do with a difference in what they are interested in, sometimes our personalities just don't click, and other times there's just no spark between the two of us. If I'm being totally honest, it's probably mostly that first one.

Given my poor luck in trying to find someone to spend my life with, I cannot help but feel nervous. And of course, knowing my history in this area, well, I haven't done the best in the past.

I have pretty big concerns about my emotional state coming up this year. Somehow I've managed to remain relatively stable, somewhat positive, even. I think a big concern is that potentially I could end up going into another bout of depression, one made even worse by another failed, miserably failed attempt to find love.

I have frequently been told that I'm so young I shouldn't be worried about these types of issues. I know that might be the logical thing to think, but the problem is the heart wants what it wants. It may make more sense for me to remain single, just think of all the money I could save, all the freedom I get to have... Admittedly life probably is a lot simpler single. But that's not what I want. I want to have that connection with somebody, that sense of being truly desired by someone else. I understand I might not be the nicest thing to look at, and sure sometimes my personality can get on the nerves of the people around me. Still, I would rather think that if I were to be in a relationship I would have a pretty decent idea how to handle myself in one. Of course my track record, given my previous relationship, do I want to count both of them(?), is not exactly something that people would consider to be in favor of my belief that I can handle a relationship. Minor disasters, surprised I didn't make more enemies actually. One of them resulted in a death, though not exactly while we were still dating. Sigh... But that's a whole separate story.

I don't know what this is going to bring. I certainly hope it ends up being something good, but hope does not typically end up resulting in what I actually experience.

Heard from my biological father for the first time recently. Not actually certain how to handle that relationship yet.

Given that it's been roughly 26 years since I last saw him in person, and since I don't really remember him from that far back, I don't really know how familiar or formal our relationship should be. Only time will tell perhaps. I'm honestly not even certain where I should start with him. How do you say hello to someone that's part of your life, but has never been in your life... Technically speaking I wouldn't be around without him, but I've been around, without him, for 25 years.

I haven't determined how I want to speak to him, no idea what to say first. It is almost as if I I'm afraid to talk to him, as there is the potential that I could really mess things up. Not to mention I have no idea what his beliefs are in relative to important parts of my life, not certain what type of discussion I might need to have with him.

So here is to 2015, I think my new years resolution seems pretty straightforward, and relatively achievable. For 2015, my goal is to not die. That seems reasonable, right? Maybe it's a little bit dramatic, or perhaps a bit too low key? Either way, it's a reasonable goal, and if I fail,  I won't have any ability to complain at that point.

Not quite sure how my life ended up here, but it has been an interesting ride. Can't wait to see what's coming next. Probably best not to look at the end of the track those surprises are best left unknown.

Not OK

After an especially difficult day, where I repeatedly felt as if I was a disappointment to everyone whom I had interacted, I composed this song.

Please excuse the poor quality of the audio in places, I do no have a professional microphone, and it was difficult to get it to record anything, much less be able to get the audio clear enough to be heard over the music I composed to go with it.

I present: Not OK

That said, if you don't have the ability to make out words of the song, that's why I have this handy lyric sheet located below:

No, it’s not gonna be alright, but who says it has to be? And is that so?
And oh, that’s not me tonight, how am I supposed to be ok… when I’m falling behind~
I’ve been tryin’ oh so hard, but still I fall.
Once again I try to think of it all.
But still my head keeps swimmin, no matter what I do I just can’t seem to win,
And so I stand alone.
Oh, why does li-ife seem this way?
Caught up in all the things I do every day.
But nothing that I try, ever heals that pain inside
Can someone save me, save my soul, I don’t know; so I’m
Trying to get by, but I cannot seem to quell my
Fears that I shall stay this way, just keep on going
So, please someone won’t you tell me,
Just what I’m supposed to be?
Cause here I stand,
Please take my hand!
Cause I don’t know
Cause I can’t see
Cause I can’t feel
What am I to do, and is this real?
Oh, so, no. I’m not ok, who says I have to be?
Maybe it’s just better this way.
And no, maybe I’m not alone, or maybe it is the truth
That when I’m here, I can’t be seen by you.
I sit on the edge of this empty ledge,
Looking over into the deep, won’t someone stay with me?

Projections on the screens of others

So, a guy I know online just finished telling me "fuck my dad".

He was angry at his dad for being condescending.
He stated that his dad was obsessing about him finding a job.
His dad had taken away his home internet, and was disconnecting his phone wifi also.

He stated that his dad wanted him to get a job and find school, and that it was all his dad wanted him to do.

According to this guy, the condescending attitude of his father was the only thing keeping him from getting a job. He stated that he had found his first job on his own, and he would have a job if not for his dad and the attitude said parent had.


What an amusing statement.
Now, mind you, I know how tedious it can be when parents are strict, and add pressure where pressure alone does not provide any benefit. Heck, for that matter, it was not terribly long ago when I felt almost the exact same pressure to get a job from my parents.

Jobs are not hard to find. Jobs worth keeping, actual careers, are very difficult to locate. I consider myself among the fortunate few who have a really good job.

But what made his statements amusing was the sentiment that his dad's attitude was the sole reason he remained unemployed. If this were the case, I would expect it would mean that his dad was scaring off potential employers.

Now, mind you, it's entirely possible that this could have been the case.
Perhaps his dad had been yelling at employers that called at the house.
Perhaps when employers called about the job, his dad told his potential employer terrible (possibly untrue) things about him to them, causing them to select a different candidate.

However, if those scenarios were true, then when I asked in what way his dad's attitude was the sole reason why he was unemployed, I'd have expected he would have been more willing than anything else to share the injustices of his dad's misconduct.

Instead, he said that my question made him mad, and he logged off.
I find it interesting that regardless of what this guy says, it appears that he is projecting his own failings upon his father. After all, what reason does he have to be mad if it is legitimately his dad's fault? None, except for any indignation he has for his dad's behaviour.

No, instead, I suspect that this guy probably has been avoiding finding a job to this point, or finding school. When confronted by his dad about it, he probably tries to avoid the issue. When his dad pushes the issue and no response is gained, I think the dad probably decided that grounding his son (the guy doesn't call having privileges taken away 'grounding', it would seem) would be one of the only ways left for him to motivate his son.

While the methods may not be the most effective, and may even seem unfair, I have no reason to believe that a parent's bad attitude alone can prevent someone from getting a job for which they are well-qualified and willing to work, short of doing the activities I described above. (And even then, I would imagine some employers would give the guy the benefit of the doubt, and not simply trust the word of one person about who this guy is.)

Yet, rather than take responsibility for his own inaction, he would rather project how he should feel about himself onto his dad. Admittedly, we all do this. We see ourselves in others, we try to find ways to not see ourselves in ourselves, and we see others in ourselves.

Often we, as humans, try to find no fault in ourselves, and try to place blame for everything bad that happens upon others. We try to find what is good, and suggest that we are that good thing, or that we are capable of the same good things as someone else. We try our best to ignore when others have the same kind of faults as we do, because seeing them makes it difficult to judge anyone else for having them, because we know that deep down that we have the same faults.

I would like to think that all the negative experiences I have had in my past have led me to be less biased to do these things. At the end of the day, though, I realize that I am not the best judge of my own character. It may even be that nobody can be a proper judge of anyone's character because we all have our own ways of being these imperfect, messy, and glorious human beings.

We may not be perfect, but the imperfections mean we always have something to strive for, and sometimes some of the greatest beauties the world can offer come from the imperfection that is life.

We may see ourselves, projections on the screens of others, the people around us the very looking glass we use to judge who we are, but sometimes to find the truth of our identities, we need look no further than inward. Honest self-evaluation, including willingness to admit imperfection and flaws, is our best tool for self-improvement.

Hopefully, if that tool does not work, we will have close friends and family around us that can help us see who we are. Best of luck to that guy, by no means is his situation 'easy' because it is not mine. Our struggles are our own, and our pains as significant as they can be, to us.

The nightmare that came true

So, in stories, sometimes on TV or in a movie, there comes a time when a character is having a terrible nightmare. The nightmare is symbolic of the stresses of life that they are feeling. One of these common trope-like nightmares is the one where someone is going through some change, and the person having the nightmare is not certain how to handle it. So they dream that the person that's changing turns their back and starts walking away. Typically what follows next is that the character having the nightmare dreams that they are running as fast as they can to catch the person who, despite their efforts to catch up, only end up getting further away. Somewhere near the end of the nightmare, the person disappears completely, and the dreamer tends to find themselves alone and faced with a situation (sometimes being engulfed by darkness, sometimes attacked by a monster, it varies) before they wake up.

I know that I have seen this idea of a nightmare several times represented in a variety of media. I had not really given much thought to this nightmare, or the feeling associated with it. For whatever reason, it never seemed more important to me than a simple plot point meant to indicate the amount of stress and uncertainty that the character experiencing the nightmare was feeling.

Recently, however, I have started to realize how much this is a nightmare that I would have had, were I only a literary character in some tale. Growing up, I have had many acquaintances, and a few friends. The connections I built with people, however, often did not stand the test of time.

Geographical changes, or simple divergence of personalities tend to have lent the relationships built something of an expiration date. Life events that I was partially, or even sometimes completely, unaware of in another's life have contributed to many of my so-called friends moving on. And while this is probably to be expected (let us face it, nobody stays the same forever)... this has also led to something of an issue for me.

As it has been, my life has been a rather surrounded-by-people-still-alone kind of story. I spent much of my youth feeling unliked by my peers. (I was picked upon rather mercilessly for most of my early primary education.) Sometimes, I became friends with someone, and the meaning of those relationships to me was greater than usual because of how isolated I felt. Ultimately, most of these friendships were limited, and expired before I had even understood why they were special to me.

In my teenage and early adolescent years, I struggled to live this double life, as feelings that I developed were frequently rejected by the ones I trusted and cared about most deeply. I was often reminded that the feelings I had were not valid, and because of this I had a hard time connecting to others, and even some of my closest relationships began to feel hollow and meaningless. Around this time, I also began to attempt to end the double-life I was being forced to live (by circumstance), but every attempt made seemed to be of little worth, or landed me in big trouble. It was most likely not helpful that I spent a large swath of this time as a rather gullible, naïve guy who trusted people more than he should have. (Honestly, the trust I had for people was mainly because of my desperate attempt to connect with someone when I knew, and did not want to accept, that trusting people could hurt me. What can I say, I was highly idealistic.) As time went by, I was frequently challenged to question if the feelings I had were valid, just because if they weren't, my life would have been so much easier.

As I entered my mid-adolescence, I faced quite the opposite problem. I had managed to end the double-life I had been dealing with before, but had come to distrust pretty much everyone. (Hurt me once, shame on you, hurt me twice shame on me.) I did not give up on trying to form bonds with others, but I faced the grim truth that the bonds I formed were not these great pillars of strength to endure the ages. Yet, even with this truth staring me in the eyes, I found myself desperately seeking to form bonds, which for some reason seemed to become easier. My guess is that these bonds came easier because I expected practically nothing from them.

Now, entering my early adulthood, I am faced with something else entirely. The same nightmare that has graced so many forms of storytelling has barreled into the forefront of my mind. The past several years have been a very difficult time full of firsts, and new transitions. It has been exciting, and difficult. Wonderful, and filled with some of my greatest sorrows.

So, now I have once again felt the deep pressure of the sense of loss and loneliness that has become a companion to me. Strangely, this loss is one anticipated, and not yet fully realized. For that very reason, it is practically as if the anticipation of it is the nightmare itself. The nightmare that comes before the waking to the truth, which is often the same as the nightmare, but far less figurative.

Not that long ago, I made a friend. When I first met him, I found him quite attractive. I spent a long time telling him how much I did find him attractive, at first. He had insisted that he was not like me, in that his interests, romantically at least, lie elsewhere (hetero, not gay). As I had learned to do in my adolescence, I took it hard, but eventually let it go. Then it came to light that he was actually not being honest... and not just to me, but to himself. He had lied to himself because of the fears he had about what the truth may mean. Just like I had when I was younger, and found myself being assaulted verbally for expressing the confusing feelings I had. So, I showed some support to this friend. I told him that the important thing is for him to be himself, regardless of what others may think. I asked him to do something totally absurd: to question his own beliefs, to think critically about where he was, where he was going, what he wanted, and why. Eventually, he realized that all the time he had spent trying to hide his truth from everyone, even himself, had been time where he could have been learning about himself more. It had not been "wasted", only a learning experience that he wished he had not taken so long to complete. This friend and I became very close, and one day I confided to him one of my deepest darkest secrets: I was scared. Scared of being alone. So often I had lost the people I called friends, and I was now so close to him, I was worried we would also drift apart. At that time, he promised to be by my side. So, with eagerness and hope, I named him my "best friend". Even more recently, things changed for this friend. Something, and someone, wonderful came into his life. And though his time and relationship with me had not lost any value, it was finally his time to move on. So, with a heavy heart, I watched as he turned around and left. It was not as if he wanted to end our friendship, no, nothing of the sort. Instead, he had found something very valuable, and our friendship was not so important as to let me keep him from taking this valuable thing away. In a cruel twist of emotions, though, I felt somewhat betrayed. I felt jealous, envious, and angry. All the time I had spent hoping to have a strong bond like the one he had found, and I was left empty-handed... but when he seemed the least interested to find a bond like that, one had seemingly fallen into his lap. It wasn't fair, I said. But in truth, my negativity about it was the unfair thing. I had no right to deny his happiness, and I had no right to complain. So, I pulled myself together, told him how I felt, and apologized. And although it was not necessary for me to do so, I had done so because I felt wrong about how I had felt toward him. In the end, he still moved on.

Fairly recently, I made another friend. When I first met her, it was due to some unusual circumstances. A mutual acquaintance had introduced us to each other. The primary reason we met was because we were going to work on a project. The project, it ended up, was doomed from the beginning to failure. There were too many things that the project wanted to do, and not enough ideas about how to make the project accomplish them. The regular meetings for the project, however, gave me plenty of exposure to this person. It became clear rather quickly that she and I were similar. Our personalities were quite on par with each other's. So when the project came to an end, we ended up finding ourselves friends. She and I shared our heartbreaks, and our pasts. Mine was told with a dramatic flair, most of which was because of the seeming absurdity of the ludicrous myriad experiences I had, growing up. Hers was less dramatic, but had its own underlying theme. I was like a melody, and she was a perfect harmony. We each deeply understood how the other felt about things in life. In far less time than I expected, I confessed to her the same deep and dark secret I had shared with the other friend (who, at the time, was still around). I admitted that my fear was that I would end up alone. I explained that with each successful time I had deemed someone to be a "best friend", they had without doubt left me. I begged her to tell me if she would stay. I was too nervous that she may take that title, and that once again it may result in someone leaving my life. She and I came to a 'blood oath' that neither of us would move on from the other without saying something. We solemnly swore that we would not let our relationship drift apart, and that should we need to move on, we would give the other fair warning it was happening, and a reason why. No more questions, no more doubts. It came, therefore, by no surprise that when the other friend left the spot of "best friend" vacant, I was devastated. My other 'best friend' gone had hurt, but with time I grew closer to my new friend. After the "oath" was made, I triumphantly named her my best friend.

Now, I find myself living that nightmare. The precursor to the reality, but this time it is not just a dream. Like the "best friend" before, a strong bond like we have been seeking, has potentially revealed itself to her. There is the chance, although not the guarantee, that the process could happen once again. Once again, I could find that my best friend is having to move on because something so valuable came to be that I, while not irrelevant, have become a smaller consideration (thinking of time as a limited resource). So, it is now a dire situation for me. I feel as though I am in a dark tunnel, and at the end of it is a light so brilliant, I cannot see what is inside it. I have met two other travellers in the tunnel, and they have agreed to accompany me. One of them is doing it because I asked him to. The other because she is headed the same direction as I am. Then someone came along, and the person along only because I asked (otherwise, he would have been content to sit and relax) took his hand, and started walking toward the light at the other end. I tried to catch up, but it was no use. Now, it is as if the one who walked with me, because we were both headed to the light, has also come across another person and started walking with them. I find myself running as fast as I can to reach the light, and to catch up to the ever-retreating backs of my friends... and yet the speed with which I sprint has no meaning, because I travel no distance. Yet the figures in front of me still grow smaller and more obscured by the very light I seek.

I am finding myself... left alone again. Not abandoned, merely surpassed. I don't want any of my friends who may read this to think that I am angry at them. I don't want any of them thinking that I would rather they forgo the happiness they may be able to grasp, for my sake. Those ideas could not be farther from the truth, but naturally I do feel concern that it may sound as if this is what I want.

On the contrary, what I desire is that I may come to experience the happiness that they have (and may have) found. Yet I am still here in the darkness of the tunnel. As I said before, the true events that play out after the nightmare have yet to begin... but the anticipation itself may as well be the events should they occur, for the amount of distress I find myself in.

I often find myself wondering if there has been something I have done wrong. Some reason I have been stuck in the darkness of this tunnel. I have asked myself if perhaps one day when I was not paying attention, I signed a waiver of happiness. Something like "I, Zack, hereby relinquish all rights to my happiness, both present and future, and reserve no right to reclaim said happiness at any time."

I have this great weight that sits inside my chest. A deep longing and sadness, that seems to fill my lungs with each breath I take. My heart feels like stone, unmoving, and heavy. Not stone naturally, but scarred from the hurts of my past and my present. Each scar healing over a wound which caused it to bleed and hurt. Each scar made of stone, yet leaving my heart still just as vulnerable. Until the weight of the heaviness becomes all-consuming, I cannot relieve it. I seek desperately to cry, and cry aloud. To let out tears of anguish and feel the rush of endorphins that comes with it. To finally remove the stress from my shoulders, if only for a moment. Yet, this too, I cannot do. The tears refuse to come for me, no matter how I beckon them, until at last I am crushed beneath the weight of my own sadness, loneliness, and fear. Then, and only then, in that moment, the tears I cry revitalize me, and lift just enough weight that I can once again stand. And then, for a time, I can continue my desperate pleas that the darkness engulfing me would dissipate. But the weight returns, and it does so frequently.

The thoughts that come to mind are surely unhealthy. They are surely all lies. But these lies, when reinforced by my experiences, feel as if they are unwaveringly true. "I am not good enough. I am not worthy of being loved. I am a terrible person. Nobody will love me, and nobody should. I am disgusting, and my body is something of which I should be ashamed. Nobody will ever be able to see past my physical body to see me. I will be alone forever, never knowing romance, never knowing love. The people who say they love me only do so because they have to or because they pity me. My worth is negligible. It would not matter greatly whether I am alive or dead. If I were to die, it would ultimately have no impact upon the world. If I were dead, the only people who would show up at my funeral would be those obligated to do so. Life is not terribly important. Life is so painful, it makes little sense to cling to it. There is no chance that things will improve. I must be the best at everything I do to make up for the fact that I am a failure anyway. The only reason anyone wants to be around me is because I can do something for them. I only have value living if someone is using me for something. Nothing I think or feels matters to anyone else. I may never experience any joy or happiness beyond meaningless transient pleasures that come and go. If I were to lose my usefulness to the people around me, it would be better if I were dead instead of a burden to them."

These are the thoughts that consume my waking moments. I try to ignore that these thoughts arise. By pretending they do not exist, I am able to live a relatively normal life. For all accounts, some would even say that the life I live is supremely blessed. I am on track to be debt free only a few years out of college, I have a job with wonderful benefits, and I have all my needs met (physically) and even some of my wants (like entertainment).

But in truth, all of the darkness lies beneath the surface. I am a pool of water, seeming to be clear and glistening and shallow. Filled with light, and calm. But I am actually a cave just beneath the pool, completely obscured from the light reflecting off my surface, and torn apart inside by turbulent torrents, as currents swirl about, breaking me apart, gradually.

So, what I am trying to say here, is that I am once again scared. I do not want to be alone. I want to be desired, loved, important. Sadly, this is not how I feel. I am so happy for my friends, I want them to be happy. I want them to experience joy.

I just don't want to miss out on happiness myself, even though I feel that is my only option.

Some music

So, I thought I would compose a small piece of music based upon how I feel on an average day.

I'm going to leave a link to it here, so please have a bit of a listen, and let me know if you feel the same sometimes.

-Zack

Daily Life

In times of darkness

So, there has been a lot of terrible news happening lately.

Which, I suppose, is not really a new thing. Bad things are always happening somewhere, but whether a spotlight is used to bring attention to it or not depends.

As always, when tidings of war and disease spread through media outlets, people come from the woodwork to discuss and commentate, like busy little termites finding new trees to feast upon and grow.

So, I feel fortunate that for the most part, these terrible happenings, these pitiable phenomena, are things that at this point do not appear to impact my life significantly.

Yet, there are comments that have been made recently by the same people who always have to turn the bad into worse, in the name of defending something they feel good.

Yes, indeed, the people who claim that hurricanes wiping out the residences of thousands of people, or diseases killing hundreds upon hundreds, are good things. Recently, one of those comments hit close to home. Of course, it is only natural that it would, because it was a comment that intersects part of my personal background.

Although I do not care to draw attention to the individual, there was someone who had been claiming that the outbreak of Ebola was a good thing, that it was a 'divine retribution' that would be used as a plague to wipe out all those not chosen by god. (No capitalization because the God I believe in does not share the same dark sentiments about specific classes of people.)

The irony, that in a time of some of the most enlightened people, where technological and scientific understanding is booming, people would still believe that praying alone would cause a disease to target only a specific portion of the population, and furthermore, to protect others from the disease.

Listen, guys, we are all adults here. We all have the capacity to look up how Ebola spreads. Surprise, surprise, it is just like any other virus or disease: opportunistic. It doesn't care who it infects. Its sole goal is to survive, populate, grow, spread, and adapt. Basic survival operations, inherent to life as we know it regardless of organism.

So, then, why are there still those who would choose to ignore the facts in favor of hoping to damn a portion of the population with personality characteristics or physical appearances that are 'undesirable' with something that is deadly, difficult to control, and indiscriminate?

The answer is clear, because in times of darkness, there are always going to be those who fall into several distinct (and also occasionally overlapping categories):

• The candle-bearers- these are the people who hope for the light, and try to bring it to their own situation and those around them, but have little reach beyond themselves
• The floodlights- these are the people who shine brightly, reaching great distances, but ultimately still can't reach everyone
• The shadow hoarders- these are the people who covet the shade, they call darkness light, and shy away from the true light when others bring it around.
• The glow worms- these are the people who are unaffected by the darkness regardless of how deep it is, because it never touches them, but they seek nothing to keep it from others

So, if I want to put people in these categories, and even worse, to chastise the shadow hoarders for saying that disease, suffering, and war are good things, would it not be fair to categorize myself?

Sure, and I will admit, I am no floodlight. I am quite the glow worm, or perhaps somewhere between that and a candle-bearer. I have a limit to what I can do to help others, but I am disappointed that there are people who would wish disease, death, and all manner of terrible things on people who they do not understand.

It is, in my opinion, admonishable, as having those values can only lead to disaster. No person should have the right to ordain that another group should be wrought destruction in ways that cause unbelievable pain and suffering, just because of differences that are (in truth) only surface-level. Though I will say that the fact remains that choosing to have beliefs that others' lives are worthless because of a few fundamental differences that have no impact, is one difference that is not only on the surface. That is a difference that goes to the very core of who a person is.

The uncomfortable truth

So, I was sitting here, looking at a picture of a friend.

I know that any idea of something happening romantically with that friend is completely out of the question. For that very reason, looking at pictures of this friend hurt. It hurt a lot.

I've been honest with this friend before about how I had a crush on him, and I can only say it was a strange feeling that he appreciated the honesty, but did not feel the same. I was given the opportunity to continue to build that friendship, but was clearly reminded that there was no chance that I would ever have the opportunity to make anything more of it than friendship.

I'd love to say how, after realizing he was off the market, I promptly moved on.
I'd love to say how, after he turned me down, which is entirely appropriate for him, I did not sweat the details, and decided to look for somebody else to go out with, never thinking romantically about this friend again.

I'd love to say all that, but that wouldn't be the truth.
The real truth is that I still have a crush on this friend.
He is a wholesome guy, and handsome.
He has just about everything I've ever wanted, but the one thing he doesn't have is a romantic interest in me.

I won't say that I've wasted my time pursuing him, even knowing that it was futile. I'm not stupid. I realize that I cannot ask for something from him which he cannot give. But I'll be damned if I say I don't have feelings for him, because I do.

I don't really have many friends I spend time with. Sure, I have friends, but I am a busy guy.
Also, I don't really like socializing with anyone. It's exhausting.
On the other hand, I don't really want friends, if I'm being honest.
Ok, that's a bit vague and broad. I'll hone in for a second: I don't want acquaintances, if I can avoid it.

A friend will stay by you regardless of (most) decisions, and care... about you, about your feelings, wanting what is best for you and for the friendship. But this is not what I have in abundance. I have acquaintances.

These are people that it feels normal to hang around, but ultimately the influence or benefits they bring to my life are minimal. The time spent together may be great, but the quality of it never goes much beyond that of a casual relationship where it would not matter much if I saw them or if I did not.

So, what has brought on all this discussion (or rather, I suppose, a monologue shared with a world through my blog)? An event, one that should be (and it certainly is, in a matter of speaking) happy. Another friend of mine is getting married. I was invited. It is quite sweet. And yet, I almost wonder if it would have been better if I had not been invited.

I've been doing what I can to get my life together. Working hard to pay off my bills so I can move out, become a bit more independent, and live a life in a world that isn't easy for anyone.

I told myself that I've given up on the idea of getting into a relationship right now. "I'm too busy to be in a relationship", "relationships take money that I can't afford", and "I'm fine the way I am right now" have been platitudes I have repeated so that I can avoid how I truly feel.

But in honest introspection, now shared with you, I am not really okay with this.
Do I feel good about my position in life? Well, I won't say "no", because that would also be a lie.
Just, not in all the areas I would like.

I feel I'm doing rather well financially, given my age and the difficulty of the work I'm doing.
I feel I'm alright when it comes to some of the other aspects of my life, too...
but matters of the heart are still something which weigh heavily upon me.

In fact, I've been attempting to blind myself to these very truths because of how powerless I feel I am to change any of this. Relationships are two-way agreements. I'm not ready to make that agreement with anyone who I don't find desirable... and even more than that, I find that most people don't find me desirable enough to make that agreement with me. So, I sit alone at my computer, enjoying my youtube and video games. Distractions, to try to keep the darkness at bay.

I don't really feel much, although I have been trying.
The difficulty of trying to feel my emotions is that I haven't felt the less negative emotions strongly in a while, and whenever I search my soul to find those emotions, the strong negativity I feel about myself and my situation are the first to show up.

So, why did I look at my friend's picture when I knew it would hurt?
Because somewhere inside me, I'm still hoping that he will be my prince charming, saving me from what is truly little more than myself, made manifest as a monster out to kill, like the Hyde my emotions have made of me. I still long for the opportunity to fall back into the daydream where that friend is still an option.
Or perhaps I just want to feel depressed again, just to feel... something.

I have coworkers that have suggested that if I truly want a relationship, I have to work for it.
I have to go out and meet people, be social, and interact. I have a hard time with that.
Ideally, I'd be able to go out and be direct with people.
Ideally, I'd go out, and walk up to a guy I want to get to know better who I find attractive and be able to say "I find you attractive, let's talk for a while, because I think there may be a chance that we have things in common and may choose to be in a relationship."

Realistically, if I did that, it would be super awkward for the person I was talking to, and moreover, they would almost guaranteed say "sorry, I'm not into dudes". (I speak from experience here.)

I'm frustrated. I want to feel loved, important, and special.
Instead, I feel like the chances I have to find any of that are gradually fading away.
I understand that I'm young, but I feel terribly inexperienced with love.
I worry that I won't find anyone to be with until I'm in my 40s, 50s, later.
That worry doesn't bother me much on its own, but I feel concerned that if that does happen, I will have so little experience at the time, that everyone else will have already had in their teens and twenties, I will be terribly awkward and it may ruin everything.

Yeah, worrying about the future always makes things worse than they actually are.
I mean, come on! My 40s or 50s!? We're talking that's no less than 15 years from now!
But that's my point. Sure, that's 15 years from now at the earliest, but 15 years is not very long.

Ultimately, coming across people like the friend I was admiring (who is admittedly one of only a handful of people I have had crushes on in a decade), and finding out that I have no chance with them is pretty depressing to me.

I suppose this wouldn't be so bad if he were actually a jerk, but I know him, and he's one of the nicest guys I know. It wouldn't be so bad if I never got to know him, either. But I do, and he is a nice guy, and quite attractive to me.

I don't know who would find me attractive (although I'm not putting it past someone to do so), but I just cannot help but feel as if I don't have a chance in the world of ending up with an attractive, nice guy with a good sense of humor who loves me back. I feel that in most cases, I'm lucky if I can find a guy who meets two of those criteria.

It's lonely here, in my head. I don't want to be alone, and I don't like being alone.
I need my space sometimes, but there is a difference between needing my space and feeling alone.

Right now, I can count all the people who love me.
Right now, I don't even need one hand to count all the people who romantically love me.
I'm not saying romance and that kind of love are more important than that of a close friend or family member... but what I am saying is that those are different. They feel different, look different.

And maybe it's just my negativity talking, but I cannot help but wonder if, perhaps, I don't have what it takes to be loved romantically by anyone. Maybe I will never find someone who I will love and who will love me back. It is a distinct possibility. After all, my dating pool is not very large to start with... and what I am looking for is flexible, but still rather specific.

Not everyone gets to have a happy ending. Some people are lucky just to have a boring ending.
I can try as I might, but it may end up that all I will have is a sad ending.
It pains me to think that it could happen, but stranger things have occurred.

I don't want to die before I've at least been able to experience that small pleasure in life.
Yet, I cannot and do not foresee any chance that I will ever experience that.
And maybe that's just me being pessimistic...
but then again, maybe it's the uncomfortable truth.

There once was a boy

There once was a boy.

Growing up wasn't easy for him, but then again, it's not easy for anyone.
Many times, this boy went through all sorts of abuse (verbal, mental, emotional, and spiritual).

At first, things looked pretty normal. As he got older, he seemed to disappoint the people he cared about.
This boy couldn't help but feel that he was a disappointment, over and over.

In an effort to make other people happy, he sacrificed his identity.
He became whomever others wanted him to be. He did what made other people happy.
But this left the boy feeling empty inside.
Over time, he forgot who HE was, and so he decided to make an attempt to figure it out again.

But the more he discovered about himself, the more he felt the stinging, burning lash
of disappointment and anger like a cat 'o nine tails upon his spirit.

Every turn he made seemed to garner either disappointment or anger,
and in other cases, this boy just blended into the scenery, invisible.

Soon, prolonged exposure to these feelings left the boy hopeless.
He was certain that he was unimportant. He had been invisible too many times.
He was certain that he was a waste of time and space. He had been a disappointment too many times.
He was certain that people would be happier without him. He had been the subject of anger too often.

Clinging onto the crisp, freezing weather of winter, he felt sad. A sadness like a deep, dark, inescapable hole.
He kept trying to pour meaning into the hole. Tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but every time he tried, it just came back to the same conclusions. The problem was him. There was no way the problem was everyone else. Surely, if so many people thought he wasn't important, they must be right. Surely, if so many people thought he was a disappointment, they couldn't be wrong. And surely being a disappointment was as bad as being useless. It was practically the same thing, in his book.

The boy wanted to feel love, but when he turned to face the ones he needed it from the most, he was met with opposition. He reached for the people he cared about, doing what he could to show that he was worthwhile in some way. But in return, he was corrected. Shown how little his efforts were worth.

Then, one day, the boy gave up. And he decided that it would be better to just die.
He didn't want to be a burden to people anymore, and all his efforts were bringing back results the opposite of his intent. But, when the time came, the boy was such a failure, he couldn't even die properly.

Screaming out in anguish and despair deep in his mind, the boy did the one thing he had yet to try.
He was certain that he was going to fail, but he tried. He spoke frankly about it to a classmate.
It was only in passing, and he thought, being invisible as he was, surely it wouldn't work.
But somehow, it did. Just this one time, something he said made sense to the people around him.
Like a breeze, normally ignored, suddenly receiving attention because it howls through a crack, his words were heard.

At first, the boy was happy that someone had heard him, but then as the situation developed, he realized that speaking that one time had only brought more disappointment in the people who he cared about.
They said they were worried about him. What he heard was "how could you say something so stupid?"

In an attempt to fix the boy, who was clearly broken, a man tried to teach him about other people from thousands of years in the past who had felt sad, or angry. The mad said "look at these people. They were sad, and they were angry, but they didn't kill themselves."

But the boy didn't buy it. It wasn't that the boy felt sad or angry. The boy felt like there was no hope for him. He was far beyond sad. And if he was angry at anyone, it was himself, for being such a miserable failure. The boy also felt that the examples were too detached. These were guys in a book from thousands of years ago.
For all the boy knew (and he admitted to himself, things could go either way), the people may not have even been real. But even if they didn't kill themselves (once again, the boy thought that it was possible they might have, anyway. "I mean, it *was* thousands of years ago. Maybe that story was just lost or not recorded.") their issues were much different than his. They were leaders of large groups of people. The boy wasn't even a leader of himself, much less anyone else. They were inspirational, grand figures who started out as humble but capable people. The boy wasn't even capable, he was just a disappointment.

But as time went on, the man refused to stop telling the stories of the bygone people, of questionable existence, and dead regardless. The boy grew tired of hearing these stories. They made his problems seem small. His problems seemed small, and the fact that he felt their weight so heavily just was more proof to him that he was worthless.

In an effort to end the suffering, in a manner of speaking, he came up with a brilliant solution. Probably the first thing he ever did right, he figured. Simply, don't feel anything, and you can't feel bad, he thought. So, he decided to become like stone. Unmoving, unbreakable, and unfeeling. And when he had taken up this charade enough that he began to feel nothing, the suffering at the hands of the man trying to help ended.

But this solution was no true solution at all. The deepest feelings seeped out, and once again, became a disappointment to others.As the years went on, the boy began to realize who he was.
His role in the world was to be alone, misunderstood, and hated by some of those whom he cared about the most. And this did little to help the boy move forward. So he sought some good. He tried to make friends with people who would care about him, and not be disappointed with him even if he was a disappointment to everyone else.

That backfired, though. And soon, he found himself isolated. Some confused ladies in his isolation asked him why he had been set aside as he had. When he explained, they were shocked.
"That's not right! You're such a polite, nice boy! You follow the rules, and you're so kind. You don't belong here." they said. And here, the boy felt like maybe he wasn't such a disappointment, because he was being compared with people who were just as much a disappointment, but they hated everything else, instead of themselves. The boy concluded that he was less of a total failure than the other people were, because he knew how to accept responsibility for being a total failure and giant disappointment to the people in his life.

Soon, the boy was allowed to re-join the group, but it wasn't too long before he had been enough of a disappointment to get placed back into relative isolation. But this time, situations got worse. The boy made some bad decisions, and became one of the biggest disappointments ever. Not only were people yelling, screaming, and crying because of his actions, but his latest mistake had cost the people he cared for a large sum of money too.

So, trying to make up for everything, the boy poured all his energy into becoming stoic, and unchanging. He figured if he could get to the point of just being invisible again, and then never change, it would be better than costing everyone is his life everything. And this time, it worked. Or, so he thought.

Several years passed by, and by being invisible and trying to not be himself, the boy somehow became liked. He was still a cowardly disappointment down deep in his heart, but it wasn't hurting anyone, so the boy was satisfied with being stoic, even though it meant he felt nothing.

But people kept coming into his life, and leaving. And the people he kept meeting started wearing down his careful stone defence. And soon, he found himself back where he started. Several years older, but just as much of a disappointment as ever. If not worse for all the time he spent deceiving people into believing he wasn't worthless and disappointing.

And soon, the boy fell back into that pit of despair and hopelessness that he had painted with bright colours to pretend it wasn't there. Sitting at the bottom of the cavernous expanse of hopelessness, he reached out to some people across the world who were in the same place. But, one evening, he was discovered participating in actions that caused him not only to be embarrassed, but also to disappoint some of the few people who he hadn't hurt yet. And, in an attempt to stop him from making that mistake again, those people cut him off from the only connection he had to anyone who know what it was like being where he was.

They didn't know, but it dealt a heavy blow to his spirit. So, he spoke to a man who was supposed to be a spiritual guide. And that man told him to stop being a disappointment, and things would be ok. When the boy asked how, the man had responded that he needed to show respect to the people whom he cared about.

And when he tried, the boy ended up back in a place where there was no light. The deepest section of the pit. The part so far down, he hadn't bothered with painting. He couldn't even wake up after that, because he was too tired of being a disappointment. And when he missed meetings and classes, he knew that even doing those things was an act which was causing disappointment and anger.

Eventually, this boy managed to make it through college, but it meant very little. It was a hollow victory.
In many ways, the boy was still a disappointment. All his history reminded him of what a failure he was.
His looks were undesirable, and his skills were diverse, but pointless.
His knowledge was plentiful, but of no use.

And so the boy found himself still alone, less than a handful of people who saw him as he was, and loved him regardless. Less than half of them not disappointed or angered by him at some time.

And the boy was sad. He was very sad.
He felt so alone. It felt like there was no hope for him.
He knew he could accomplish the bare minimum, but that was it.
He could tell: nobody would want to be with him.
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was such a disappointment?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who looked like he did?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who had messed up so badly?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was so unworthy of the love that he desired?

The boy thought about these things, and he was certain that the time would never come.
He knew. His chances of finding the love he wanted were like the chances that he would live to be 300.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were the chances he had to win the lottery's grand prize.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were like his chances of being anything more than a disappointment to the people he wanted to love, but had lost the ability to care about.

The boy, hurt as he was, couldn't bear to look at himself honestly anymore.
Doing so hurt. Doing so reminded him of how he had failed so badly.
But sometimes, the boy couldn't help but think about who he was.
And he realized, the person who he had disappointed the most, was himself.
He had become exactly what he had wished he wouldn't have to be.
And if he couldn't love himself, he didn't know how anyone else could love a failure like him.

He felt convinced that love would never happen for him.
And it was a relief. Because he could finally stop shouldering the burden of hope.
Hope, which had been the only thing keeping him going.
It was a heavy burden. It was supposed to be the thing that lifted him up, but hope had become the one thing that always weighed him down. Because every time his hopes were dashed, he was forced to look at himself.

And every glance at himself was filled with despair, disgust, and anger.
Why should anyone love him? He didn't deserve it.
And so the boy was free to let go of hope, but he had become attached.
So, he couldn't even let go of hope anymore. And he knew what it meant.
It meant that he was doomed to forever be further and further let down.
That a rock-bottom would likely never come. Only a bottomless abyss.

And this boy was me.

The state of affairs

So, I realize that I have been relatively silent about my life recently.

So, here is a quick update about what is happening:


Life is never easy, but trying to balance the most upper level classes required for graduation with all the other obligations I have in my life has been madness. I am glad it's only undergrad classes.

I'm working two jobs, only one of which actually pays me right now.

I am still single, too. This is a highly confusing and frustrating phenomenon to me.
I am often told that my physical appearance has no bearing on it, but I find that difficult to believe at best.

On the other hand, I have recently been fortunate enough to forge a new friendship which has already greatly assisted me in being able to cope with, what I feel has been, a rather mediocre hand dealt to me by life.

As usual, the relationship I have with my step-father is tenuous at best. The fact is, he has repeatedly and maliciously hurt me (emotionally) in the past. While I am quick to forgive (and I have forgiven him), I also do not respect him, and I only trust him to a very limited extent.

He lost my trust when, as a parent, he shirked his responsibilities multiple times and then attempted to place the blame on me.

He lost my respect when, in addition to the above, he has treated me with an occasionally subtle disdain, and passive-aggressive attitude that clearly indicates that he cares more about being "right" than he cares about me.

Since he has not earned any more trust or respect, any interactions between us have been (on my end) a grinding, painful, unpleasant experience.

In other areas, I am quite upset. I can't seem to find a good balance of my time expenditure.
I have heard little from my closest friend, and it has been a turbulent time of late.

Were I asked to choose a word (a single word) to effectively communicate the feelings I have been experiencing lately, it would be impatience.

I am losing patience in many areas. I am having a harder time holding my tongue against my pet peeves. I am becoming increasingly irate at the level of stress that I have been cornered into. Most of all, I am tired of both directly and indirectly being told that I am not worthy of having a romantic interest/life.

What is just so wrong with me that I am not good enough for that?
Why am I left sitting on the sidelines?

Life is hard. Everyone knows it. It's already hard enough for the average person... and I am left here with such a heavy additional burden. It just doesn't feel fair. I'd be angry, if I weren't so sad that I wish I could just abandon it all. Wish that someone would look at me and really SEE ME for once. Wish that the days could pass just a little faster so that this suffering would end sooner.

Ok, so it gets better, they say. But they often fail to mention how every STUPID DAY until then is a complete nightmare, and total disaster. But this is *my* burden, so I really shouldn't complain about it. So, somewhere inside me, it gets bottled up. Locked away so deep inside me that even I cannot reach it most of the time. And why? Not because it doesn't bother me. Not because I don't realize what a joke I seem to be to the world, the people around me, whatever. Not even because I am gradually thinking things are getting better, or because I remind myself that chances are that things won't always be this bad. No, the reason I do it is because I am expected to be okay. I am required (as if part of some sick cosmic joke) to keep going on.

So, that's life. I'm dealing with it because it has been foisted upon me like an unwanted present being regifted.

The truth about trust

"Now I will tell you what I've done for you. 50,000 tears I've cried..."

-Evanescence (Going Under)

So, trust is a difficult topic for me.
When I think about who I trust, and with what, I realize that I don't really
know what to think most of the time.

Most of the time, I play with trust on the safe side. If I don't know with certainty
that I can trust someone with something, I simply won't do it. It's possible that
not trusting people has, in a way, been a defense I've developed.

As I think about the many times I've trusted people, though, I realize that there
is a good reason why I have difficulty trusting people. There are many people
who are unreliable, and many people who are showing a facade to the ones
around them.

I am one of those people, for that matter. I'm not really unreliable, but I hide
who I am under the mask of obscurity many times. I'm not really 'hiding', I tell
myself. I'm just not revealing all there is to show. But isn't that just like hiding?

The thing is, I've been hurt in the past, and many times I would rather deal with
the pain of hiding stuff about myself than deal with the bothersome problems that
occasionally come from the honesty about revealing details about myself.

It's so stupid, and it's so strange. The people that I have been told my whole life
that I should be able to trust have often been the ones I could trust the least.

Parents? Well, my mom I could trust, but for a while I wasn't sure.
My step-dad... HA! I still can't trust him. I've been hurt too many times.
He isn't worth my trust. He doesn't deserve my trust, and I won't apologize
for that position. He lost it, and every time I gave him the benefit of the doubt,
he wasn't on my side when it mattered most.

Friends? Well, I have a few which I trust implicitly. The problem with friends
was always that I couldn't trust that they would stay around. I don't want to be
negative where it isn't really a big deal, but... let's just say that in my personal
experiences, "best friend" was the best title to give to someone if I wanted them
to leave. Even now, my "best friend" isn't around anymore. And I'll admit right
here that I am very sad, and even a bit angry (somewhere) that he left. As my
friend, though, I would like him to be happy... and he is now. It's the kind of
happiness that I couldn't ever give him. No matter how hard I tried. So I try not
to be angry about it. However, it still leaves me alone when sometimes I need
that physical person that I can hold and be honest with. And maybe even cry
as I talk to them.

Christians? See, as a Christian, I've always been told that honesty was the best
idea. That I should be transparent about my good and my bad. That I should
trust the people around me that also claim to be Christian. The sad thing is,
I've had better experiences with many of my non-Christian friends than with
most of the Christian people I have known. How often have I, in the past,
against my better judgment, spoken candidly to my Christian friends? Many
times, when I have, I've received a mixed bag. Everything from the realization
that they're not really interested in what I'm going through, to them actively
hating who I am. Very few times has it resulted in a pleasant exchange of the
truths about each of us.

So, naturally, I should have expected the reactions I have gotten recently.
When I put my guns down, lowered my defenses, and opened my heart to
some Christians who I felt could be friends, in spite of known differences of
opinion.

Yet, the wind was totally knocked out of me with the suggestion that the
life I live is fundamentally messed up in a way that for these 'friends' is not an
issue. Like love is an addiction that should be viewed with contempt if it
doesn't fit into their mold for how it should look.

I lost sight of myself for a while, but eventually got back. (Honestly, it was
thanks to my best friend, physically absent as he was, and my "protector" by
the name of Zack.)

Zack has asked me, "why do you keep letting them do this to you?"
and I realized that I volunteer myself to to be slapped around like this far more
often than is healthy. I felt really bad for Zack when he said he felt that he
had "failed to protect [me] from the pain that [I] went through". He thought
he should have stepped in... but he was trying to give me a chance. I just
wasn't strong enough.

Honesty may be the best policy, but apparently trust is something that I can't
just pass out to the people around me, even if they are the ones I've been
assured I can trust.

Is it any surprise that my relationships tend to be lightweight?
I can't just trust people with things that could be used to hurt me... but it's the
private and painful things I share with others that helps be grow closer to them.

Part of it is that I don't want to get close to people, because people I get closer
to hurt me. Sometimes right away, sometimes down the line. There are people
I'm only acquainted with, too. These people, I don't want to trust with my life.
Sad news is that sometimes, my acquaintances I don't want to trust are the most
trustworthy of them all. Just, not the type of people I want to spend much time
around.

I would love to simplify my life. But I'm not sure what all would be needed.
Should I keep the people I trust? What if I trust them, but don't want to be
around them anymore? Should I get rid of the people that I can't trust, or those
who bring me down or cause me to feel confused?

I just don't see a place where I can clearly cut ties to the people I know.
Likewise, I'm not sure I want to stay in a relationship with people.

So, the truth about trust is that it's a double-edged sword.
I can't get close to someone without it, and I can't risk using it because
it can cause me more pain than if I don't. I feel trapped, and I know why...
but the explanation is so unsatisfying.

"Here in the darkness, I know myself. Can't break free until I let it go. Let me go! Darling I forgive you after all. Anything is better than to be alone. And in the end, I guess I had to fall- always find my place among the ashes. I can't hold on to me, wonder what's wrong with me?"

-Evanescence (Lithium)

So, I'm thinking that perhaps, I'm going to write a short story soon.
Fiction finds itself based upon the truths that cannot be hidden.
Pain, love, and life. Everything is ubiquitous. So I will write, and share in the best
way I know how. Safely wrapped up in the security of the loss of details... while
still bearing for the world to see the feelings I have within me.

 

A disastrous day

Yesterday was a disaster for me on a personal level. I awoke (early, thanks to my stepdad) for work to find that it had snowed, meaning that the drive to work (5-10 minutes at the most) was much slower and bothersome than usual (it took 20 minutes for me to arrive). Once I got there, I tried booting up the computer (required for all the transactions at my job), but the computer decided to give me a physical memory dump (Windows' famous blue screen).

Last week, my co-worker had been having difficulty trying to get the computer (and printers, et al) to turn on because the UPS (uninterrupted power supply - basically a surge protector with a built in battery just in case the power goes out, to give you time to shut down) had run out of battery and had no AC (the power went out). His solution was simple, and a bad idea: take all the equipment out of the UPS and plug it into a regular power strip. (With no surge protection.)

At the end of Saturday, I shut down the computer, and turned it off, moving all the electronics' plugs back to the UPS (now fully charged) to avoid potential problems should the weather (it had been snowy and rainy recently, off and on) cause the power to go out during the workday.

Apparently, this was the worst idea I could have had. It seems that the computer was unplugged (I did it, so this makes it my fault) at the wrong time (it never shut down normally, but it would get to a point where it was reasonably safe, but without any indication of such). So the system registry (specifically the part for all programs on the computer) became corrupted, or was possibly erased. This is what caused the blue screen of death.

So, I was placed in the awkward and uncomfortable position of calling the owner, and informing him that the computer died. He shut down his other store (he was the only one who could work it at that time) to bring us a replacement computer.

An hour later, I was in the even more awkward position of informing him that all the backup of our system data (which he had thought was going to an external hard drive), was in fact located on the hard drive of the dead computer. My co-worker (the one who had decided to remove all the plugs from the UPS the previous week) had apparently told him it was so. It wasn't; the external hard drive that they thought was being used wasn't even recognized by the computer, and so since it was wasting power and a USB port, I had simply removed it.

I then spent the rest of the workday (although I was only supposed to be working the first half, not the entire day) turning customers away because of all the problems associated with making the new computer work. Namely, getting drivers for printers, installing required software, and finding out, to my chagrin, that the new computer will not allow us the use of our USB hub (meaning printers, scanners, and other devices can't be attached because the computer then pretends they don't exist).

It was an exhausting day at work, made only slightly better by having a very caring coworker (a different one than the one mentioned above) decide to donate her half of the day to me (in hours on the timesheet), but stay around to assist in helping customers while I solved (seemingly) all the problems that could possibly go wrong (which all seemed to happen) short of a total system meltdown.

After such a terrible day at work, I arrived home. Less than 4 minutes through the door, I got a call from another co-worker/boss (we're trying to start a business). He was trying to get me scheduled for a meeting today (wednesday, the 16th). However, he informed me that he didn't have a room reserved for us to meet in, nor did he have any idea of the business expert on our team would be there, and furthermore, he had mistakenly thought I would be available during the time I have class. (This was vitally important, so I informed him that my class schedule was prohibitive of the time he *thought* I was available.)

I woke up this morning feeling quite tired (even after 9 hours of rest), because of the stress I dealt with yesterday.

For some reason, life has recently been trying my patience and attempting to stress me out. I'm normally quite patient, and I handle stress fairly well (most of the time being able to brush it off completely). This type of stuff, however, has been happening frequently, and has pushed me to the limits of my mental endurance.

I keep on being surprised by how far I can be pushed without falling apart, but I'd rather not have to find out this way. I'm curious if other people feel the same way. Needless to say, returning to school (instead of work) today will be quite relaxing in comparison. Perhaps it will do me some good.