Journal Entry 9-22-16

Bonnie Tyler – He is The King.

I broke down and cried again today. A mixture of causes. When the Tranny broke up with me, I told him I would keep his Skype address, so that I could review our interactions – and that I’d always be waiting for him. I log in daily, in pathetic hopes that he’ll return to me. He changed his display picture today, from one which I had taken of him.

That was hard to accept. It was at the start of the day, though, and I had to go to work, so I pushed it into the back of my mind. I started working for a neighbor yesterday, working with him and his employees also added to my depression: The boss is some random mix of lunacy, the employees are drunks and druggies – people whom I have to pretend to be an idiot around, so as not to incur the usually savagery in response.

I spent the day, while working with them, thinking about the Tranny. I still love him, though I know I shouldn’t. Every time I reviewed our relationship in the past, it was clear that this was the eventual outcome. I know that, but it seems I have to review it all again – and make a habit of it until my love has died. I loved him so fiercely that thoughts of him ingrained themselves in every part of me; there is no section of my mind where he is absent.

I think about what I could have done differently to make the relationship succeed. I indulge momentarily blissful fantasies of our, then, life together. Then I’m reminded that I’m moving dirt for a lunatic, with his burnout employees that reek like stale sweat and piss. Then I think about killing myself, as my chances of finding companionship are slim-to-none.

When I got home, after work, I reviewed the Tranny and I’s final text conversation, in which we broke up [not my preferred medium], and broke down in tears. Even while seeing his usual irrationality within the crucial interaction, I am reminded of the times when he was reasonable. I’m reminded that he was one of the few people that could ever keep up with me in some regards. I remember how beautiful and innocent he was – things I can’t be anymore.

In my current mental state, I feel I can’t spend the rest of my life alone, surrounded by the billions of writhing half-lunatics that comprise humanity and stunt the world. I’m unmotivated by the prospect of tolerating their savagery. Life can be so magnificent, but these fuckups aren’t happy unless shitting on everything. If I but had the power to bitch-slap through time and space.

In the past, my many hobbies and interests distracted me from my discontent, but are becoming less effective. Cigarettes were extremely effective, but must be abandoned due to detrimental effects. I used to charm people in the method of the archetypal trickster, slowly teaching them the tenets of sanity so that I could have tolerable company – but I’ve lost the motivation, given that few possess the base traits necessary to become more than tolerable in a reasonable amount of time.

What I’m left with is avoidance of the masses, and a reliance on metacognition to motivate myself. If these methods fail to produce a tolerable emotional state, I’ll have to kill myself. I think they will work, but as I currently am, I can’t imagine tolerating 30+ years of babysitting every dipshit that staggers into me. I’ve tried that, over and over, and I’ve learned the limits of people’s capacity for change within my capacity of influence. Sadly, unproductive.

I have yet to fully explore a relationship involving a subservient mate, and may have to settle on it – but I would certainly prefer not to. Both because it wouldn’t make me happy, and because I would not be loyal to them: should their superior arrive, so may I depart. I’d be transparent and forthcoming about it, however. Thus, I don’t expect anyone would take the offer. Though I suppose a polygamous situation might work there. Bah.


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~ by Louis Naughtic on September 22, 2016.

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