I used to think the world was doomed. Now I realize that it’s only me who is doomed. Others are able to struggle and find a way through life peacefully. Love seems to help. Not me—I’m not one of those people and I never have been.
Don’t worry. This isn’t a suicide note. I left a proper note at the scene of my death. And I’ll spare you that outpouring of sadness and grief here.
I just wanted to say thanks to my friends who may be reading this. I wish I could have done so intimately, one-on-one or whatever, but you do that kind of thing and people get suspicious. So thanks to my friends who put up with me and tried to help. To those who gave up on me: I don’t blame you. I only blame myself.
One last thing: If I could trouble someone out there to do me a small favor, I’d like you to contact the manager of my apartment building. Or I guess you could call the Seattle PD. It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to sit in here too long without being discovered and I’d like for my cats to be rescued.
I have this tooth, a molar, and it’s had a big cavity in it for a long time—since before I moved to Seattle. The hole has gotten bigger and deeper over the years. And now the tooth is falling out. It has cracked and pieces of it have fallen out. Now there’s just like a little third of it left. That’s loose and will soon fall out as well. Corny or not, it’s a pretty apt metaphor for my current state of being. Sure, it doesn’t begin describe this overwhelming sense of dread, but that’s not easily done.
I’ve been mostly miserable for the last 2o years of my life. There’s no denying it. When I was younger there was always hope that things would get better. I had my good days and my bad, but I thought I would figure things out and my life would improve. I thought I’d be happy one day. Now that I’m older and have reached middle age, I’ve been through plenty of ups and downs (mostly lots of downs). It seems like there isn’t going to be any progress made here. I think I’m stuck where I started out. I’m definitely stuck somewhere I don’t want to be.
I missed the boat, I guess. It’s sort of like the feeling of being late to the party, where everyone’s wasted and you feel completely disconnected from it all. I’ve found myself feeling that feeling throughout my life, like wherever I’ve arrived or whatever thing I’m doing is already past its peak. I just got here and it’s already over. That’s what my whole life is like. Constantly. That’s how it feels. “You should have been here back when…” or “Things were so much better before blah blah blah…” Well, that’s just great. Thanks for pointing out how over everything is.
Now I’m thinking that I might be over. There’s no joy in my life, no love. I haven’t had a meaningful relationship in years. I haven’t been in love in forever. Things I used to care about have faded out. All my friends are far away. And I’m stuck here—quite literally stuck—in a city that doesn’t give a damn about me. I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. And I’m sick from this overwhelming sense of dread.
Lately it’s like the world is telling me to go, and I don’t feel like putting up a fight anymore.
So. My life is unraveling into a heap of shredded shit. I’m not yet homeless, in jail, or dead, but I seem to be headed in the direction of one of those unsavory destinations. Maybe not. Maybe I’m being just melodramatic. But after these last few months it’s hard not to feel like some amount of intensity is called for or at least fairly well justified. It’s also quite hard not to feel like I’m once again feeling sorry for myself and acting like a lost little boy who can’t find his mommy at the shopping mall. Wah.
When he was 35 my father had a wife, three kids, a house, and a career in the military which allowed him to feed and cloth his family. He owned two cars. He watched the game on Sundays. He even went to church most of the time. He tried to do the right thing. Even in what was to become a very unhappy marriage he wanted us all to do well and he tried to make that happen.
Me, on the other hand? Soon I’ll be 35 and I haven’t even come close to achieving any of that. I haven’t even finished college. I live in a crappy studio apartment and have completely fallen off with my friends. I’m unemployed, broke, and depressed. And now, on top of all that, I have legal problems to deal with (which I can’t deal with very effectively because I’m broke) stemming from an apparent manic episode I experienced before the holidays. Yep, I am no longer just depressed. I guess I’m bi-polar. Apparently you got your chocolate in my peanut butter. I thought I was just coming out of a depression and starting to find some kind of happiness and getting more excited for the future, but no—it was a bi-polar mind trick.
You know, it’s not that I want all the things my dad had. I really don’t. There are plently of things I wouldn’t want to duplicate from his life story. I mentioned the unhappy marriage. And then there’s the alcoholism and his own fight with depression. Yeesh. No thanks. I’ve got my own issues there.
The thing of it is this: I just want something to fucking work.
Why can’t I…
hold a job?
meet a nice lady?
Try harder! Do more! Fake it ‘til you make it!
What’s that? Are you out of your mind? I need to sleep the days away here so I can just forget about this hole I’ve dug myself into. Please? Just 10 more minutes. This shit pile is still warm.
From Craigslist gigs:
Casting xtras for film in Seattle the week of the 12th -18th…..Needed ages 22-34 male and female….needed 5 blk male with dreads.. 4 blk women with bigg butts , 3 old Asian men ,and 8 pregnents looking chicks.. (dont want real pregnent woman just ones who look pregnent) this is a comedy…….