Nearly Giving In.

I'm just not quite sure what do with myself right now. I feel incredibly uncomfortable all the time, my stomach in knots, mostly unhappy. There's bright spots for sure, but they seem to few and far between anymore, and mostly fleeting. Small things just aren't filling the gaps.

I guess I just kind of give up. Or maybe give in. I've tried and it's just not happening. This trickles down to many things going on right now. I just feel defeated all the time, I can't explain why, and the daily pep talks I give myself just aren't doing the trick any longer. Optimism is on vacation for now. I just can't do it any longer, I can't talk myself into looking past facts. Truth is, they are getting harder and harder to look past.

I'm at a crossroads in many things. Frankly, I'm just fucking worn out, period. I'm so tired of trying with nothing in return. I feel pretty miserable about it most of the time. I have put myself out there enough that by now, if things aren't coming up for me, it's time to give up and let external forces take course. I'm just too tired for this shit anymore.

I've tried repeatedly to meet people and it's just not happening. I refuse to do it anymore. It makes me feel pathetic and it makes me sad. On the two occasions it appeared to work out, one group suddenly decided that I was something of a creep and another person told me (in more terms, but basically) that I was boring. Am I boring? Maybe. Now. It shook me though. I never thought of myself as boring, but then again, I'm suddenly different than I once was. I remain pretty quiet in most situations. The commentary in my head screams for me to be more outgoing, but when it comes to doing it, my mind suddenly blanks out. So I guess I am. It's pretty hard to face.

But what did I really expect? At the age of 25 I uproot myself and plant somewhere else, was I expecting Portland to break out the good china and the nice silver? Maybe, foolishly. I definitely was expecting something else than what I have. It was this hasty and selfish decision that I'm paying for now. I hurt a lot of feelings in the process, feelings that I wish I could repair now because of a change of heart. But even that's not happening.

I feel cursed. I live in my head way too much. The mind has a funny way of creating tragedies where they don't exist. And yet, I feed into them for some reason, the cause of a lot of my anxiety and panic attacks of late. I hate it. I feel utterly helpless in this situation and completely pathetic, clingy and shitty. But once again, what do I expect? I have an uncanny tendency to be a complete fuck up. This is rooted deeply in being scared to do anything real in my life or a fear of being tied down, rejected or failing. Funny that when I finally confront this fear and do something about it, spill my guts to her, I'm just too late.

And what about that? Anytime you place your future or happiness in the hands of another you run a pretty high risk and it's crushing when the decision you want doesn't happen. I asked her to move here, I promised stability, happiness, understanding. I wanted to turn over a new leaf, abandon my selfishness, my old baggage, my old lifestyle. I considered moving to where she would be, or even making distance work until I'm finished with school, but she still wasn't on board. I was seeking redemption for past mistakes. It's just not going to happen. And I don't blame her. She took the brunt of a lot of my bullshit, enough to make anyone shy away from trying again. And she has a new life, one with new things, new projects, new guys; one that doesn't quite work with me in the partner role because I fucked up and I would probably get in the way.

So here I sit, a little confused on where to go now. When she delivered the death blow (or blows) I could feel myself harden, close up and get cold. I tried to remain persistent, shedding more layers and providing deeper revelations. I'm just too late. We still talk about it, so I guess nothing is completely over yet, but I can feel myself weakening through all of this. The peaks and valleys of my emotions are taking a toll. Normally at this time I would go on to drink and fuck my way into oblivion, but I just can't do it anymore. I have enough self-respect to stay away from it, it's never done anything but bring me more grief.

So what then? I don't know. The compound effect of everything is dragging me down. My mom thinks I could be depressed, or suffering from season affective disorder, or both. Even offering to get me one of those lights for my apartment that is supposed to replicate the sun. I don't know about all of that. Even if I was/am depressed, it doesn't make my matters any less true, but maybe the affect that much greater. And by now
I've nearly resigned myself to remaining a hermit, in my messy apartment, and focus solely on my design work and school. It's all I really have anymore. My spirit may be broken in other areas, but I still have the drive to do that. For now, I guess this is all that remains. I'm somewhat okay with this and will learn to live with it. It's certainly not ideal, but what can I do? I can't magically make a girlfriend and potential wife appear out of nowhere. Plus by now, I feel pretty unavailable and undesirable. So I guess the plan for now is: finish school and figure things out from there hoping to shake this funk I'm in in the process. I'm leaving most everything else up to fate and other people.

I hate to read shit like this, but I'm far too self aware to not admit it. I'm sick of phonies and I'm sick of being one myself. Yes, I'm cynical, I'm bitter and I'm beaten. But I'm not dead, just residing in some fucked up limbo waiting for something to change; waiting for the time I can open myself up again and restart, stretch my legs and go for it again.

Any day now.

m