S Pink Premium Pointer Anyway, moving on ...: Regression Pt.XII-8a,Triangle.Zebra/Turquoise
People used to remind me that "not everything's either black or white", but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
Because, where is all that grey coming from?

Dienstag, 10. Juni 2014

Regression Pt.XII-8a,Triangle.Zebra/Turquoise

Life has become an exhausting pain in the ass ... again.
I even have to force myself to write these lines in order to do at least something and not sit around and do nothing at all.

I stopped taking my meds about 2 weeks ago, because I didn't feel like they would have any effect on me anymore whatsoever. So why didn't I just go see the doctor to adjust the dosage?
Because then what?
My alcohol intake has increased over the past few days. I don't know why I'm drinking again. Somehow I'm just trying to get myself back into "I don't care"-mode. Ridiculous huh? I turn my back on the meds which would help me keep moving, and grab a beer instead in order to make it easier to stay on the ever same spot.
But the way went back to being a chore. I just  don't know what should be the purpose of me being on my way. It doesn't satisfy me, fulfill me. Most of the time it doesn't make me happy or even just lighten my mood a bit. It doesn't stop to feel hollow, like a waste of time, nothing more than a mere distraction. Even my music playlist, which has grown from 77 to 194 hours over the past months, starts to bore me anew.

What am I supposed to think about all the shit that happened lately? (Well >>this<<, then >>this<<, and then there was a pen pal who also couldn't handle certain aspects of my damaged mentality ... or I was too careless handling hers  ... anyway, she broke off contact last week. ... and I'm still checking my mails more frequently than usual to see if she might have changed her mind, which basically "just" means that I am actually checking my mails.)
How am I supposed to take it, deal with it, convert it into something positive and move on?
The saloon door that swung open to the outside a few months back has now swung back in again, and it hit me in the face because I wasn't fast enough to walk through it on time.
Once again it's begun to get darker and darker around me.


About every-fucking-thing.




As for my Queen, I think I can/should bury the hope that I'm ever gonna talk to her again. Still haven't heard a single word from her. Not even after I broke the silence one time a few weeks back to write her an email asking how Ch. is doing, because at the time I just found out about the thing with E. and M.. Not a single word came back. I have no clue what's going on. I don't even know if she still uses that same email adress.
I shouldn't know.
From her perspective it's probably the best thing for her to do to just ignore me. I mean, what good has ever come from talking to me?

But if I let go of that one particular little hope, what would I have left?
There simply is nothing else in the world that would get me going. There's nothing else that would mean enough to me to set me into motion. Yes, there're a lot of small things I like or would like to do. Still, they just don't add up to be sufficient.

I couldn't care less about friends.
I couldn't care less about thousands of them.
I just want one.
THE one.
And what's so wrong about that?
Yet apparently you can't have one without the other.
But I have enough of those countless numbers of shallow what's-wrongs and the occasional not-nows. I can't suffer through this shit for much longer. Every little thing, even the tiniest rejection hurts. Additionally there's always the question about what they're not telling me. I know how those things can make you feel, and that's why don't want contribute to this dishonest, if not pointless back and forth of human interaction and diminish its value any further.
But I also don't want to be alone.
I don't want to feel unappreciated all the time.
Thing is that I'm that big a piece of hard work that maybe no one will ever consider me worth the effort. And I'm so self-absorbed that I am simply not able to ...

I'm thinking about putting it all to an end, again.
Just to make it stop.
This is no life at all.
Then why does it have to be mine?
Why does it have to be like this?
What did I do to deserve this?
Am I really such a bad person?
How is this going to turn out?
For how much longer would I have to endure?
Do I really want to know?
Would I feel better if I'd know?
Most certainly not.
Then why can't I stop asking?

I. Just. Don't. Know.
... and I hate it.
I'm a mess.

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