chapter XVIXIXV

I've been putting this off for about a year now. I kept lying to myself, hoping things would change, hoping it didn't really happen, hoping I'm not as much of a bad person as she told me I was, hoping it was all a mistake... a misunderstanding. A quick recap: I met this girl when I was single last year, at a party. I had a date with her and fell in love nearly instantly. She was probably one of the best women I've ever met in my life. And I kept it all to myself. You'll notice there are some huge gaps in my bloggery last year. My life hit a ridiculous high point, then spiraled down into depths of emotional shit.

So. I met this girl. This girl, this woman, this savior. Maybe you remember the 'first date' at the Chinese restaurant. Everything started better than I could ever imagine. For a while, I actually considered that this girl was an angel from heaven, sent down to save me from the world (and myself). We were inseparable for nearly two months. We'd talk on the phone every weeknight for about two hours. We'd spend every weekend together. We'd watch movies, play videogames, go on walks, go shopping, go out to eat, try cooking together (we were both terrible), go to the city, do everything. It seemed like those two months lasted a year. We crammed so many good memories (I can barely remember any of them, except for what I captured with my digital camera and camcorder) into such a short amount of time. Oh how I loved my angel. I knew that it was all moving very quickly, and that I'd never felt like this about anyone before (maybe I just finally allowed myself to?) and that there was so much about myself that I was afraid she'd find out and hate and she'd realize what a jerk I was and realize that I'm just a husk of a man, no soul, no real care for anyone in the world, just for myself and my possessions, and .... I tried so hard to change all that. Change for her. And I was changing. I could feel myself becoming a better person. More sensitive, a better listener, more in-touch with myself and with others. But it all turned to shit, and deep deep down, I knew it would all along.

Things started to fall apart after week 7. I can't remember what exactly set it off. I think it was a number of things. I frantically tried to put everything back together, but ultimately failed. I do remember being stressed out about something at work (ironic, because the "old me" usually didn't care enough to get stressed out, but I was trying to care more), and I might have snapped at her, or been rude, or just been distant. We had a couple of fights. We made up, but I feel like I can remember telling her a lot of things that she probably wanted to hear (that might not have really been true). Things about my feelings. I knew that I cared for her a lot, but maybe I could just never be the person she needed me to be, no matter how hard I tried to change myself...no matter how hard I tried to allow her to change me and save me. Things finally came to a head one Friday night, where she told me over the phone that she didn't think we should see each other anymore, that things were becoming too hard, we moved too fast, she didn't know what she was doing and she made a mistake by being with me. I begged her to just let me take her to dinner one last time. She reluctantly accepted after I pleaded to her for a good while, telling her I just wanted a proper goodbye. I know she didn't really want to, but she was such a sweetheart that she decided to do it for me. But I had every intention of saving that relationship. I told her I'd pick her up Saturday evening. I plotted all night and all day, preparing myself for a difficult confrontation, for an argument that I must absolutely win if I was to remain happy. She was too amazing to not fight for. I had to let her know it.

I picked her up the following night, and we sat in an awkard silence as I drove us to the location of our first magical date: my favorite Chinese restaurant. "B, I'm not really in the mood for Chinese food. I have a bit of a stomach ache and I'd rather not eat here." But I somehow convinced her that we should eat there, as I was desperately trying to connect with her and make her remember all the things that she liked about me. The food was excellent, but dinner was horrible. We barely spoke. She didn't eat anything. Just pushed expensive food (that I ordered for her) around her plate with her chopsticks. It looked as if she was witholding tears and didn't know what to say to me. I didn't know what to say either. I kept trying to make jokes and failing. I kept trying to remind her of instances from the previous seven weeks when we had such wonderful times. She would just say "Yeah, I know B...it's just...it's just..." and I'd try to get her to really tell me what was wrong so I could fix it, so I could fix myself and repair our relationship and be perfect for her and save everything and be happy with her and with myself together forever. It wasn't working. It was so painful for both of us. Suddenly, as the waiter brought me the check and a few fortune cookies, I thought I had a brilliant idea. I thought I could surely make her laugh, just as I had on our very first date, at that very same restaurant at the same table (which I requested and made us wait for fifteen minutes for them to clear it). I smiled as I opened the fortune cookies, quietly reading the fortunes in a thick Chinese accent, flipping them over and reading the little "Learn Chinese" translations on the back.

"Haha! Look at this one! Ah, your ah preenceeples mean ah more to youuu than any mahney or ah successs! Hmm. No. Let's learn Chinese! 'Delicious:' Hao-chi. Howwww cheeee! Here's another. You have ah the rayyre abeelity to recognize abeelity in ah othas! What? More translations! 'Chicken:' Ji. Jeeee! Oh my god. This one is 'airplane' and it is Fei-ji. Airplane Chicken? Hahaha! 'Spinach:' Bo-cai. Booow kaaaaaiiiiuh!

I grew panicky as I could see how uncomfortable she was. My voice grew louder and I laughed nervously. I ran out of cookies. "Ahem. Um excuse me? Sir?" I asked, loudly. "B! Stop it!" she begged me, but I just motioned her away, as if to say "Don't worry, I've got it under control baby, I'll get you more cookies and I'll make you laugh and you'll forgive me for whatever it was I did, and everthing will be okay." "Can we have some more fortune cookies please?" I ask. "Ah yes, ahh of course!" He said, bringing me another handful. I continued to open cookie after cookie, reading the fortunes to her, trying too hard to be funny and to make her laugh. God, why wasn't she laughing? Tears started trickling down her cheeks. I opened the last cookie, my hand shaking, slowly reading the Chinese translation in my horrible Chinese accent, and then she interupted me, exploding: "-STOP IT B! Just please fucking STOP IT!" I stared at her, feeling like I'd just been punched in the chest. "What?? I was just trying to make you laugh? What's wrong?" Everyone in the restaurant knew that there was some drama at our table, but pretended to ignore it.

She finally told me what was wrong. With me. She told me I was a selfish jerk, only concerned with myself. Never placing others before me. She told me I was rude. I was cheap. I was stupid and easily confused and sometimes she was suprised that I even went to college. I wasn't nearly as funny as I thought I was. I was out of shape. I was bad in bed. I had problems with intimacy. (This was true. I preferred sex over a computer interface rather than a human one. I was so used to seeing sex on a computer monitor when viewing my horrendous internet porno collection, that I didn't know what to do when I was actually with a real woman. I was actually somewhat terrified of physical intimacy.) I was overly critical and my standards and expectations were too high. I was greedy. I didn't work hard at all for the success that I have had. I didn't appreciate anything. I cared about material things more than I cared about people. And she went on, until we were both sitting there, staring at each other, tears streaming down our faces. She said she's never met anyone like me. She said I needed help, badly. She said she tried to help me, to save me, but she couldn't. She said there's nothing inside me. That I'm not there.

I stared at her, trying so hard not to cry. Trying to hold it all in. It hurt so bad. She hurt me so badly. I felt like my heart had completely stopped beating. There was just this big empty space in my chest, but it was filled with hurt. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. God, it hurt so bad. How could she? I loved her. I tried so hard for her. Slowly, I forced some words out to her. The only words I could speak. "...Fuck you." I said, glaring, "You're not my fucking soulmate." She was gasping quietly as she cried. I looked at the angel once last time. Looked at my missed chance for salvation. I wanted to get on my knees. Beg her to love me. To fix me. But she couldn't help me. There was nothing more that could be done. Nothing could be saved. It didn't matter if we had dated for two months or for ten years. It was over. "I hate you. You're dead to me," I told her. I then stood up, wiped my eyes, threw all of the cash in my wallet onto the table (I'm not sure if it was even enough) and walked away, as she sobbed behind me.

That was a year ago.

some confessions:

I've been really busy lately with new experiences (new job in NYC, etc), so I've been a bit behind on transcribing every major and minor event in my life for you during the past few months. Next-up, I'll tell you about my horrible heart break. Absolutely brutal for me and hilarious for you. But first, there are a couple of details I left out regarding the events leading up to the firing from my job.

About two months before I completely doomed myself at work, I became completely obsessed with Robocop. This had always been one of my favorite movies as a child, but for some reason while watching it when I was all messed up on percocets and cough syrup (I'm not really that much of a drug user - except for the chronic, son, but I was really depressed that night and decided to whip up some kind of horrible cocktail to numb the pain. Or was it to numb the feeling of numbness...to make myself feel something?), the film seemed EXTRA magical (and comical) to me. For almost three weeks at work, I became obnoxiously enamored with Robocop. I constantly invited people at the office (especially girls) to come back to my apartment and watch Robocop I or II with me (Robocop III was pure, PG-13 rated garbage. Stupid fucking Japanese robot ninja). I made a Robocop wallpaper for my work computer's desktop. I bought a bunch of old Robocop action figures off of ebay and decorated my cube with them. I think people started get really frustrated with me at work, as I started to talk like Robocop a lot (and think it was funny) and even behave like him at inappropriate times (one time when new clients were touring the office). I'd interrupt people when they were mingling in the kitchen in the morning: "COME QUIETLY OR THERE WILL BE TROUBLE" and then they'd look at me blankly, as I made robo-motions, all slow and with sound effects, and I'd list to them my prime directives: "SERVE THE PUBLIC TRUST, PROTECT THE INNOCENT, UPHOLD THE LAW." Once I saw my creative director in the bathroom, about to use the urinal, and I walked slowly and loudly up behind him, and then announced "YOUR MOVE, CREEP." In my best Robocop voice. He laughed nervously, but I'm pretty sure he couldn't pee with me standing there, so after staring at the back of his head and making whirring noises for like twenty more seconds, I left the bathroom so he could piss.

I started slacking on my responsibilities more than ever, and others had to work twice as hard to make up for the work I wasn't doing. More than once, I'd get fed up with a project (after finally settling down to work on it for about fifteen minutes) in the early afternoon, and I'd just get up, walk out the front door, and go home and play videogames for the rest of the day. When people would ask me where I went and how much work did I get done on those layouts, I'd just say I had a horrible stomachache but couldn't find any of my superiors to tell them I had to go home, or that I sent an email but I don't know why they didn't get it, or that I had a family emergency. One time I almost slipped up and told one of the project managers, "Look, those Nazis hiding in my Xbox aren't going to kill themselves, now are they?" But I just apologized and said I'd stay late to make up for the work I didn't get done. But more often than not, one of my coworkers had already done that to cover my ass.

People started avoiding me, not even making small-talk in the kitchen in the morning. I'd go in there to get some coffee and have to listen to them talk about last night's episode of "Lost" or talk about some new restaurant or "Will and Grace" or FOOTBALL or SPORTS CARS or computer technology, new ipods, who's engaged, who's pregnant, who's buying a house, who left which company, who's the new VP of some fucking stupid ad agency we work with, talk talk talk talk talk about NOTHING. I'd get so sick to my stomach. The only way to remedy the situation was to pull out some more Robocop talk, loudly interrupting them: "SOMEWHERE THERE IS A CRIME HAPPENING," and leave the kitchen slowly, leaving them quiet and confused. Oh, also one day when I had a cold I spit a mouthful of my saliva into the water cooler when I was changing the bottles.

Like I said earlier, most of this year was spent in a weird emotional haze, and it took a huge toll on both my social life and my professional life (ultimately resulting in me losing my job of nearly four years). This haze continued well into my unemployed period, or as I like to refer to it, my "blue period." Overall, the blue period was pretty awesome. Finding myself with zero responsibilitites, I quickly delved into a world of schedule-less decadence. Staying up all night playing video games, sleeping in all day, playing more video games, smoking a bunch of pot that I bought off this awesome fat Puerto Rican dude that I always see at the little bodega I sometimes buy groceries at. I know I should have spent that time absorbed in self-reflection and trying to get my resume and portfolio together so I could get a new job. I mean, that's what all my family and friends told me to do. But I bought a bunch of playstation games and a couple bottles of really good tequila instead. Sometimes I wonder if it's even possible to "find myself," because I'm not even so sure that there's anything to find.

The blue period turned sour fairly quickly. I lost track of time, and day and night slipped into each other without me noticing. I slept as I pleased, and barely ever left the house. I ordered pizza probably every other day, and I managed to gain almost ten pounds in a month. I became utterly disgusting. Any physical progress I had made at the gym this year disappeared pretty quickly. I also began to hate myself a lot. I'd look at myself in the mirror while drunk on tequila and tell my reflection how hideous and useless he was. Then I'd start laughing, and roll a joint or something. The haze continued, as did my depression. I didn't answer my phone (ironic because I had just purchased the best phone my wireless provider offered: the new Motorola E815 with Jabra BT250 bluetooth wireless headset), or check my email, or anything. I think paying my rent, ordering pizza online, and occasionally going to Blockbuster Video if I couldn't wait for my Netflix movies to arrive were my only interactions with other people during that month. I found myself looking at a lot of internet pornography. I noticed that I had the "Speed Channel" playing on my television during a lot of the time too. At times I'd find myself masturbating to the Speed Channel and not even realizing what I was doing. It all became pornography to me. Speed Channel, the Food Network, G4tv, etc. I was more of a mindless, emotionless monster than ever. The only things I felt were hunger, my natural gross human sex drive, and the desire to race cars and shoot people on a video game console.

How did I snap out of it, you ask? I think it was a combination of things. First of all, I came to the realization that my savings account was dwindling rapidly and wouldn't be able to support me at my current disgusting pace for more than another two weeks. Secondly, I thought of a whole bunch of stuff that I really wanted to buy, and to do that, I would need a job. Thirdly, dfjlal;ksdhtal;hdkf;ha dl;khtealkhe hfdnadgj;yepauh3nadn adgashdfasddaken

I assume you want something meaty by now. Huh? Do you?

There are some things I need to go over. These things being:

a) why I was fired
b) what happened after said firing
c) what i'm doing now
d) and finally what happened to that amazing girl I was dating briefly (the one that almost made me feel alive again)

I'm going to try to get this started now.

Towards the end of my time at "Company X," I became very uninterested with my job, and wasn't putting any effort into whatever it was I should've been doing. I spent my last month there slacking off as much as possible. People were always waiting for me to finish things...I had trouble meeting deadlines...I couldn't pay attention in meetings. All I did all day was browse myspace, buy things on ebay, and play games. Oh, and slowly walk around the office for like the first forty five minutes each morning, shooting the shit with a bunch of people I can't stand, before I even pretended to do any work at my desk. There were a few things that I got caught doing that I really think pushed things over the edge. For instance, printing out tons of gross, ridiculous pictures out on the company color laserjet printer. I'm talking at least five pages a day. Just of stupid stuff. Once I printed out like fifteen copies of a picture of the guy from the show "Airwolf" and left it on all these peoples' keyboards. I can't even remember why I did this. Looking back, I can barely remember anything about the nearly four years I spent at this company. I have almost nothing to show for it. But I think what really sealed my fate at the company was the day where we had a bunch of important clients visiting one afternoon(one of which was African American) and I was at my desk (which is pretty close to the lobby, where they were all waiting), playing with my little "Homies" toys that I had lined up on my computer monitor. I was making a lot of noise and crashing them into each other and saying stuff like "I'ma fuck you up like in a car crash, son! ::BANG! BANG!:: Ow! You shot me nigga! - Oh shit! Check Yo self! Check Yo self! - Leeroy! Break out ya box cutta! Slice off his nosey, G! - Yeeeah! What! What!! BLAUW!! BLAUW!!!! What's up NOW? - Oh mah Godddd! He cut he nose off!"

I think I had reverted to some kind of horrible child-like state for a moment, yelling these things out in a completely inappropriate location (the irony is, I was still supposed to be putting the finishing touches on the presentation for these clients, but I had spent all day chatting with people online, walking to Dunkin Donuts to get coffee (twice), and playing with my Homies toys), especially in front of important clients. Well. I snapped out of it when a project manager came over to me and whispered (really loudly and angrily) "STOP it B! What the FUCK is wrong with you? We have CLIENTS here!" And I just stared at her, straight-faced, dropped the toys in my hand loudly on my desk, and said slowly "It takes a company of hundreds to hold me back! AWWW SHIT!" And I got up and took a third trip to Dunkin Donuts that afternoon. When I got back, I obviously was in big big trouble, and was told by my boss that I was to leave immediately and not come back. I had nothing to say in my defense. My man told me that he "knew I was troubled and was struggling with a lot of personal issues this summer," but that there was no way he could keep me employed with my escalating weirdo behavior. There was no denying this, and I'm pretty sure I've been subconciously sabotaging myself at my job (and just about every other aspect of my life as well) for the better part of the year. Anyway, they gave me a decent package (completely suprising and awesome) and sent me on my way. Not too many people wrote me to say goodbye. I think most people were scared of me by the time I left. Or just found me to be completely revolting as a human being. There's always that.

Anyway, that's how I got fired. I'll be back soon.

A few admissions:

1) I never got a pet cat. There is no "shakie wilcox" and I'm not quite sure why I made all that up. I do wish I had something to love though, be it kitty or person.

2) I am still a complete monster, without remorse or purpose.

3) I am unemployed and have never felt freer. I spent all day today playing playstation in my underpants and eating Lucky Charms. On Friday I spent the day at the beach with a cooler full of pre-made margaritas in empty Poland Spring water bottles. I know that this wonderful feeling is a high that cannot sustain itself for long, but somehow the anxiety of being jobless hasn't kicked in yet. I'll worry about all that later. Right now my plans involve ordering pizza and renting a bunch of Tom Cruise movies. I love that guy.

4) Tomorrow is my 25th birthday and I feel more childlike than ever.

I'll tell you how it all went down another time. Oh, also I'll finally tell you how I blew my chance at true love and destined myself to be emotionally desolate for the rest of my life.

I got fired today.

Last week, I went to go see the new Star Wars movie with a couple of buddies. I wouldn't agree to seeing it in anything less than full digital projection. Seeing this movie was one of the only things I've looked forward to in the past few months. It was ultimately fulfilling, but predictably disappointing at the same time. Nothing's ever as good as I hope it's going to be.

When the movie was about the start, and we were greeted by the THX intro with the insane crescendo of weird fake-orchestral noise, something moved inside of me. Emotionally. I felt something rise up, and my eyes started to water. And I didn't understand it. I haven't felt anything in the past month. And all it took was the stupid intro sequence for a movie theater's sound system to finally make me feel something? I obsessed over this for the first half hour of the movie, wondering if I was somehow moved by this epic noise itself, or by the fact that it was completely synthetic and created by human beings. Like some surreal aural monument to humanity's genius. In any case, I tried to stop obsessing about it and focus on the shitty dialogue and acting in star wars, but I just couldn't shake the feeling I had inside me. I wanted to cry. I looked around and watched all these gross beasts surrounding me, stuffing their faces with raisinets, icees, and nacho chips covered in plastic-like cheese. This vision quickly sobered me up, and I got back into the movie, trying to escape and regain that feeling I had as a child when I'd watch my favorite movies or play with my favorite action figures. By the end of the night I was back to my regular numb self, and slept a good night's sleep, my dreams filled with wookies and hero-destroying romances.

Next time, I'll tell you a better story. I promise.

serotonin bleeding internal band-aid fix never understood sparkling dead inside fixed bag of new blood new feelings fixed head better smile new person better man more bandages dirty water dark black feelings romance talk vitamins exercise health diet carrot protein cannot undo fix regret tears funny vomit escape booze never again fix unreal good dreams not letting go better lover fulfill personality scraped knee more accidents rebirth coccoon blooming new leaves new smell rotting roots dead pet new soil insects not escapable whole new man razor slowly idiot again abort escape regret decision needing comfort possessions no people work job responsibility empty produce nothing exist consume buy retreat hide isolate

I know I said that everything was better, and that everything was funny again (oh, it is), but I still feel unfulfilled in so many aspects of my life. Particularly the working aspect. I mean, I have a good job, and I'm comfortable. But I just...feel nothing while I'm at work. No motivation, no sense that I'm really going anywhere or producing anything of value. I don't work very hard, and I'm still rewarded well and overly-appreciated. I don't get it. Sometimes I try to do a bad job on purpose, and my manager is like "great work, B! go with it!" and I'm thinking to myself, "ZUH? I spent way more time chatting with my friends on instant messenger than working on this pile of shit, and they still like it?" I guess I'll never understand our industry. And our clients are miserable bastards. Indecisive automatons that drive luxury SUVs, porsches, and eat lots of red meat. The male ones anyway, I think. The female ones, I despise even more. It's so hard to make them understand anything. They're almost as stupid as the sorority girls who's houses I used to vandalize all the time in college. I just...I can't explain why I feel this way. I almost think I'm supposed to, if television and movies have taught me anything. So if this is how it's gotta be, then I'ma do this up right.

I could feel myself slipping away again in the early winter. Deep depression and a total lack of interest in any of the work I was doing took a hold of me. It started around the time we were handed out pieces of paper with our secret santa gift recipients written on them. The receptionist held out a coffee can with a bunch of pieces of paper in it, and I immediately groaned loudly when I saw who I had picked. "Gawwwwwd" I said, "I mean. No. Fuck. Okay thanks!" Then she scurried away to deliver the next horrible suprise unto an unexpecting employee. Secret santa. I didn't want to deal with this at all. I walked over to the desk of the woman who's name I had picked. "I got you for secret santa. What do you want?" This was the beginning of it all.

Lately I've been fantasizing a lot during work...almost losing myself in my fantasies. Sometimes when I interact with people I forget that these were just fantasies, and I have to correct my behavior. Or were they fantasies? My psychiatrist had me on a number of anti-depressants during the winter. It's all kind of murky, looking back on it. I may or may not have yanked off the hood ornament from a Mercedes S500 that was in the parking garage, and worn the ornament around my neck for the rest of the day. I may or may not told one of the account manager girls that if they didn't get me the documentation I needed for our afternoon status meeting I was going to "get miss piggy on them," and then stamp my feet and scream "KERRRMYYYYY" in a high-pitched shriek. I may or may not have snapped at one of the project managers who was asking me about deliverables. "What? Get your fat ass out of my cubbie-cube! Can't you see I'm trying to play tetris here?" I haven't been fired yet, and I haven't had a 'talking to' in a while either. So maybe none of those things ever happened. I'm just going to keep rolling, and reap the benefits of a world that doesn't pay attention.

PART TWO:

i can't really explain it to you that well.

and i remembered earlier in the day when i was stuck in traffic on the highway and i looked around and felt trapped, surrounded by massive vehicles...yellow ribbons, american flags, bumper stickers reducing my country's ideals into a marketable slogan...the flag i saluted as a child...becoming a brand icon (which made me think of rubbing bbq sauce from my face all over napkins printed with american flags at last year's company picnic and laughing loudly about it). and i thought to myself "wait, i still live in the best country in the world, right?" but if that's true, and i do, why is everyone around me so completely fucked up? so completely sad and empty? i feel nothing these days. all my friends from college...they email me and tell me what they're doing and what they're buying and who they're listening to and what they're seeing...but occasionally i get a window into what really goes on inside them, and it's fucking scary. they don't know what they want. they hate their jobs. they're lonely. they grow bored of the stuff they buy. the novelty wears off so quickly to them. we - ugh..i can't even write this without distracting myself with a bunch of stupid internet bullshit every two seconds... i wish i still had an attention span - we are obsessed with these commodities...and we have to adorn ourselves with them. cover up the ugly skeletons inside. and those...the ones that have all the things they need and don't go hungry but are still sad and don't want to get out of bed in the morning...i am still one of these people.

i woke up and i hated what i saw in myself. i know i've been gone a long time. to everyone. i promise i'll tell you everything. i know i've said it before. but i'm a different person now, i swear. i think. people can change. my heart got broken, i got sick, i tried to get myself fired, then i returned to the gym and started exercising again - tried to do something positive for myself. i feel so much better, and everything's funny again. EVERYTHING is. i'll tell you so much more...

PART ONE:

i finally awoke, as i looked at myself in the mirror, crying pathetically. i stared into my own eyes, tears running into my mouth. i could taste salt and vomit. i could taste remnants of an overpriced meal at a subpar restaurant, packed with well-dressed hideous people. as i looked at myself in the mirror i realized i wasn't as ugly as i'd always believed. and i wasn't as vacuous as i had feared. i saw something in my own eyes. i'm a real person. there is something there after all. and i don't think it's ugly, like i'd been told so many times before. i never told you all about my old relationship. with the girl who i took for granted. the girl who tried her best to see something good in me, even though there was only shit inside. when she talked about politics and world affairs, i'd just nod and think about sports cars and HDTVs. i always thought love was just something in movies and in books...a romanticized idea created by french poets a few centuries ago. or something. when i looked into my own eyes and actually saw love for myself, i understood her love for me. maybe that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. i've never thought about it that much. i just thought love and relationships were something that you had to do...something that was socially acceptable and all my friends were doing. so i did it. i went through the motions but rarely did i feel ANYTHING, through no fault of her's. i just accepted the fact that i was a cold monster and feeling nothing is how we live now. all we can feel is cheap, superficial pleasure. orgasm, good food, alcohol, cigarette, drugs, sitcom laughter. not genuine, deep contentment. i don't think i'll ever feel it again (i know i felt it as a child). but at least i had a moment of clarity...i could see inside myself for once. there is something there.

and i understood why i'll be alone forever.

I've fallen into the deepest depression I can remember in the past ten years. I tried to do something positive and go back to the gym to pull myself out of this horrible slump. I've been there every night this week. I hate how the guys that work there pretend to be my friend. I told a guy I work with about the gym I go to, and he seemed interested, so I brought him the other night, after work. The kid that signed me up and showed me the place when I first joined was there, and he says to the guy I brought in: "Yo man...you want a membership? I'll hook you up. Yeah, I hooked up your man B over here!" and I just stared at him, and said as deadpan as I could, "Yeah man...you totally 'hooked me up'...by giving me the exact same rate and privileges any other fat fuck who walks through that door gets. Thanks bro!" He just tried to smile back at me, slightly confused and definately trying to hide his irritation. The good thing is, he hasn't said a word to me the past two nights I've gone. Lately my ultimate fantasy has been to just die instantly on the treadmill (my heart always palpitates and I feel like I'm about to die about 20% of the day), and make everyone at the health club deal with my death and be forever haunted by it.