I'll be quirky

I drew this last week. It's of no significance, but it does look nifty.

So I finally got my letters of no contact. They're the university's equivalent of a restraining order, but since I have class with one of them there's no distance limit. It was the university's way of peacefully ending this and placating me. If there is any further contact or if this limited act is no longer adequate I will be going above their heads to the New Haven cops to file for Slander, harassment, filing a false police report, and also for full distance restraining orders. I don't care how it may inconvenience them, it's the last resort I have if this small gesture fails. but, for now, it will do.

As for this entry's title....

I have green nails and shaven arms. I feel sexy as hell. I think now I'll dance naked in front of a mirror.

Hope

With any luck everything will proceed like this: Letters of no contact, the university equivalent of a restraining order, will be given to Robin, Stephanie, and myself. I have to go in for class in the morning which I am now allowed to do, and even am allowed to spend a little bit of time in the Student Center on Friday which is AWESOME, because I miss all my friends who supported me while I was the victim of this farce. And if these things all work out I can come to school on Monday as if nothing ever happened. I lost two friends, but I'm closer with the ones I have. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have, my latest blog entry.

"You don't need to be here"

That's what Dr. Remington of Yale psychiatric said to me today.

In your fucking face, life, especially to those who have been doubting me. I'm taking care of it, I'm doing better than ever both physically, psychologically, and I'm doing even pretty well scholastically. I'm living the high life, bitches.

Here's my message to you my ex friend who tried to get me committed. In relation to you from now on:



Read it, learn it, know it. Steph, I know you weren't alone, and I know you have the best intentions so I will forgive you this. In fact it serves as a testament to how well I'm progressing that I'm laughing about all this. I may be a ways off center but I'm not that bad right now. Part of doing the SSI is to prevent me from ever getting that bad. Get it? Got it? Good.

Note to cops who apparently read my blog. The 1st amendment permits me this blog just like it permits me a journal which I also keep. The picture you were so concerned about was for a COSTUME. There are more pictures of it on the damn page had you just looked. I know, doing your job, I respect that, but this was an unnecessary hassle, guys.

And now, here's a funny picture to bring up everyone's spirits.

Troll Harder

Fuck you life, I'm actually going to do this, and do it right.

Robin issue: finally resolved. God, that took way too long.

Stephanie: Concerned and perhaps rightfully so. I'm apparently worse than ever. I think it's just the pieces she's seeing. Regardless, we're best friends and I love you Steph. You drive me nuts and we have to be mean to each other to do what's right I know. I forgive you. You may be right so I'm going to try harder specifically on the issues you mentioned. But not for you, for me. Ok?

My girlfriend: I fucking love you. I've been emotionally numb this week and you brought me back. I was able to feel guilt today. That's a breakthrough. And I'm feeling love for you again. I missed it. A lot.

Friends/Family/My doctor who reads this: I need honest feedback here people. And for fuck's sake yell at me to do stuff! I don't take hints. I do take direct criticism and commands. Show me my flaws, show me what's right. I can take pain, but i can't take pity. Be mad, not sad.

Look everyone, it's the mental health fairy! .......slash cat. Ok. Sure.



I want to go home to Kansas! Wait, no. Kansas is flat, dry, and populated by tornadoes. How about we fix my issues, deliver my beautiful girl into my arms perhaps even permanently by the end of the week, and get me that SSI I've been needing so badly. I can only mooch off my family and friends for so long. And I feel bad doing it.

Riddle me this...

Question: What is the number one trait people look for when sizing up a prospective mate?

Answer: Kindness.



Am I kind? I know at the very core of my being, when you strip away every layer of bastard, I'm nice. I'm a "good person." But what about the rest of it? My behavior and my attitude and how I act the other 75% of the time. After all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I don't know what the point of being good is when you squander it so often. I know I'm basically good. I don't know if that's true of my species. I don't have the faith it takes to believe something like that. I imagine it would be nice to feel something like that. And while I've been an atheist a long time, it's not like I don't see the appeal of religion. All full of puppy dog tails and star shine. Kidding, no offense my religious friends. I just don't see human nature as good. Does anyone truly believe that? It's fun to dream. So moving right along to tie this in with current events...

Why does Jess stay with me? Absolute freak of nature I swear. Those I try to keep close always leave me, so why hasn't she? Those I am a bastard to somehow always stay right with me. Robin, Steph, I've damaged them both, and still they stay. Steph and I are best friends, but the wench? I don't get her. Why do those I treat well often go and those I do not stay? Is that the test of friendship, of relationships? Then why wont the parts of me I hate remove themselves? I'm running again. Woke up early today and did a few laps around the block. My weight is 190. I can't believe I let it get this bad. I want to carve off the extra flesh with a motorized carving knife. Crash diets wreak hell upon one's body so I can't do it, can't commit to starvation, because I know it's so bad. But I do so badly want to. I was once at 183, at my very, very lowest. I'll settle for dropping to 185. Or at least I'll try to.

Jess is going to make an attempt at dieting. I'm not sure if she has the will for it like I did and do. Eating less, exercising more, etc. It's hard to get started on. Once you're committed you just fall into it, like sinking into a too soft couch cushion.

God, I'm losing it again over 5 lbs and an itty bitty tiny speck of stress? Fucking pathetic. I get even more depressed by how depressed being a little depressed makes me. Life is one huge vicious ouroboros on which we run forever chasing down our head and shoulders as they drop out of sight in the distance like the last bit of sails proving to us unequivocally that the whole of existence is cyclical, and nothing drops away into a magical world at the end. We all just keep running. And on that note...



End of Toonami last night made me a bit sad. Not just for me but for my youngest sister, for her generation. We're raising her well, I know, but the world is not growing into what I want for her, what I want for my own children. Where are the young ones going to go for entertainment, and after that, what about moral guidance? We live in an increasingly secular world, which is a logical progression, but why is moral decay not dropping right along with the march into the future?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ut8kZZwV3Eo

I wanted to write a lot more but I'm suddenly so tired. I'm drifting while I'm watching Eternal Sunshine and I'm gonna lay down now.

A god damn fucking update.

Today bred new life in my room, but no epiphanies. I've rearranged my furniture to suit...whatever it is my subconscious wants, I guess. Does anyone know? None of my doctors seem to. Getting a little government funding is currently on the top of my to-do list, but even that seems like it would be an empty gesture made at the summation of my life. My therapist and my girl have told me more or less the same things: Don't worry about money, you're supposed to be in debt. After all, you're an American student. It would appear the judgment of my ability to qualify for SSI is split about 50/50. About half my friends want me to go for it. At the moment my headshrinkers are split. I don't think Dr. Horwitz realizes how very suicidal I am. Maybe it's because I don't do the "cry for help" attempts like most do. If and when I decide to end my life it won't be refutable. It will be direct and quick. A combination of methods, as I've always known. First I slit one wrist deep. Then I take a bunch of pills. Then the other wrist. Then I jump off of a medium height building. The SCSU student center or library would be preferable.

I promised Jessica that I wouldn't cut, and I've been 99% true to this. When shaving my hands my knuckles opened up, but I didn't slice or anything. I just shaved a bit too hard. Pain has never stopped me from accomplishing a goal before. It hurt, but I needed to shave them, just like the rest of my hands. I guess it still kinda counts, but it wasn't my original intent with the razors. At least I don't think it was.

Still, I want so very much to open up an arm today. My right arm, yes.Right on the bicep muscle. It would allow me to feel something. This week my emotions have been rather understated or even shut off. It's frustrating. Only certain people have gotten anything from me. For the most part I've been humorously getting by but without any inclination as to how or why. Certain people have evoked...things in me, though.

The wench for one. I'm still always looking out for her, and I hate myself for doing it. And I find myself upset with her for allowing it, and then for being around me. Then, here's the kicker, despite all the pain from both of us and the fact that I am no longer a calculating monstrous man, she won't acknowledge that I'm trying to help. It's as insulting as what motivated me to torture her in the first place: the lack of consideration; the acknowledgment of my feelings and my intent.

I know nothing will ever happen, I knew that back when she dumped Kukla. And furthermore, I'm with Jess, and if there's one thing I'm not, it's unfaithful. Whether for good or ill I am loyal to a fault. But now that I've given up on my quest of removing her entirely, an endeavor which ultimately failed when I succumbed to guilt, of all things, I'm left with this: I care deeply like a sibling for her and only want her to be happy.

She should have figured that out when I threatened Dante back at the start of their relationship. Out of chivalry, out of honor, out of responsibility like I would make the same gesture toward either of my own sister's suitors.

But today, like she always has, she ran off and left me to my own devices.

And speaking of girl problems, Stephanie made the rather unsettling accusation today that I've no desire to be cured of either my mental disease or my eating disorder. One of which I am working on, the other which I cannot say. I try to count calories but without Xanax or obsessive exercise to lean on the hunger is harder to ignore with bottled water and sheer will. Do I want to lose weight? Of course I do, I hate myself. No metaphor or hyperbole needed, it's what it is. I hate myself. Always have. I enjoy the time I'm spending here on earth and i try to have fun, but if I back up and look at myself from a Saint Peter perspective I absolutely crave the flame.

I didn't feel anger at Steph for the accusation or guilt toward myself for it being true. I don't really know either way. I did feel distress, anxiety, panic, and I took a Seroquel as soon as I got home.

Jess must be suffering because I'm such a wreck. I know she loves me, and I'm still under the understanding that I love her, according to the last time I was able to even remotely understand my head and what it's trying to say to me. God, I feel dyslexic when I contemplate my own thoughts. If I'm hurting you somehow babe, I'm really sorry. I'm trying my best to not be a bastard anymore. To anyone, but especially not to the people who care about me. And that list just keeps shrinking so I ought to make an effort to at least maintain the status quo.
I don't know what more to say right now, but there'll probably be more soon.

The melancholy of the man whose words you've chose to read

I'm seemingly myself, yet not. It's unsettling. Every day I wait for my appointment to see my therapist stretches on like silly puddy; each moment seemingly malleable in my grasp of reality. I am for the first time in, well, let's be honest, months that only seemed like years, I am depressed as all hell with no reason behind it. If I have to do some extrapolation I'd say I'm a bit sad about my car, but sadder still about the way I handled it, or rather how I neglected to. I have all of these things I'm supposed to do to help me deal with my fear and panic and anxiety and sadness and the omnipresent urge to hurt both others and myself, but I did not think. I did not stop and count to ten. My car broke down on Saturday and it took my mother showing up and giving me a direct order for me to come to the realization that I would not die there on the pavement; that I do have AAA and it's not a difficult thing to get a tow, even if coming up with cash for the repair is. I'm coming to the recognition that dealing with my real exes is not going to get easier with them hanging around my social group or area. And it;s only going to get worse from here. My old squeeze, Sarah, the bipolar witch who said she loved me and then ended it over the phone and didn't even have the decency to return the knife she borrowed so that I could kill myself. Don't give her too much credit. She's just a forgetful bitch. No forethought went into that. It's only getting worse now that she's seeing a friend of mine. I took her from another friend and I now have full appreciation for just how awkward and uncomfortable all of this is, but the friend just slept with her.

He didn't love her.

Then again, I wasn't medicated while I was with her. so who knows what I really felt? I know I loathe her now. I take comfort in the fact that Lindsay, who is fast becoming one of my closer friends, hates both her and her friend I was forced to tolerate months back. So here's a personal note: Sarah and Corrine, stay the fuck away from me. Corrine's now ex, I pity you, and as I helped you move in with her back when, you are welcome in my home and in my company at any time.

It's amazing how strong a bond men who've been burned by similar women can have. Like the bond soldiers feel, I think.

That's why today was terrible. I've realized that I've gotten my distance from Valerie. It took a year, but I'm there. I realized today was her birthday as kind of a nonchalant off the cuff thing to say. I said it to whoever I was with, robin I think, as an aside. It's my ex's birthday. And that's ok. But seeing Sarah hurts. especially seeing her kiss Sebastian. Just a peck on the cheek and I was, I was boiling, to be honest. Tristan was sitting across the table from me and gave me a concerned look. apparently I was twitching. My lips curl into snarls sometimes.

Tashi came up to compliment my new hair color today. I'm still angry at her, I think. I brushed her off.

Amanda and I ended up sharing an elevator the other day. Not just any elevator; Our elevator. The elevator we had our first secret kiss in. I think she's still with her fiance'. I heard from a friend that she hates me now. I guess I would too.

I've seen Heather around. I feel nothing for her. I don't think I ever did. We share occasional uncomfortable hugs, and she waves at me warmly.

Jess was with me when I had my car breakdown. Get it? It's a double entendre! Awesome. So my car is in the shop and I myself am...patched up. I just can't deal with things. I had a bit of a relapse. When I got home I calmly and methodically sliced open my skin with my card-knives. They're sharper than I thought. It didn't take much effort. These will be a few small nice scars, to match my left leg. Jess said if I ever do it again she'll leave me. I can't say I blame her, and I hope my desire to be with her outweighs my desire to hurt myself. It's tough to not even play with blood so close to a relapse. I want to taste it, to paint with it, but all I can do is lick my wounds.

My family doesn't know about these ones. Nor will they, if I can help it for a while at least.

So everywhere I walk now I've been praying for a car to sideswipe me. As I was driven home today I closed my eyes and leaned back in the seat and just prayed silently for a fatal accident. Or even just a bad accident. Hurt me. Maim me. Cripple me. A coma would be a blessing.

This added stress that I don't know how to deal with makes me concerned about finding work, as if it wasn't hard enough to find already. I can't find a job, and when I do, they make me suicidal. Stephanie wants me to look into SSDI for mental disease or disorder and I do qualify. I guess I just thought I wasn't that bad before. But I think if I had a job with all this I would lose everything. I'd cut, I'd lose Jess, I'd lose money, go in to more debt, and just take the easy way out like people have been doing since time began. I guess that would leave Steph alone though, so I can't until I know she's ok. Jess is tough enough to go on without me. Steph...I'm not so sure.

My depression is manifesting itself in physical symptoms a bit. I'm getting nausea and constant vertigo. And I'm cold. I hope my shrink gives me more meds. I hope my therapist thinks I can get on SSDI. Not having to worry about money so much would be a load off my shoulders.

I don't know how to explain really so I'm going to just type out a few words, like poetry, to try and explain a bit. Few if any who do read this will understand anyway.

Bleak and terrified and chilly.

My hands tremble while I type.

My head hurts and my world spins.

I'm waking up alone again, more alone than I was yesterday, but not in a physical sense.

I'm doubled over in bed.