I miss my friends, I admit it.  I want to go back to Albany and have a fun day, but I know I can't go back without falling.  I don't want to fall but I'm sick of spending all my time in my room playing video games and getting fatter.  It's a lot less stressful, but the loneliness is finally starting to kick in.  Oh, and Kandi and Thor, I still hate you.  Again, no threats of violence implied or otherwise, but you cost me my job and for that I still hate you.  Every day that I go without another career I hate you a little more.  That is all.

I can't stop thinking about death and dying.  I can't lay down without thinking that I'm going to die someday and maybe someday soon, and even if it isn't some day soon it will be eventually.  What have I done with my life so that people will remember me in 20 years?  I want to be remembered forever, like Plato, Homer, Julius Caesar, Jesus (who may or may not have existed). 

Go All Blacks!

New Zealand won the Rugby World Cup, best game of rugby I've ever seen. . . of course it's the only game of rugby I've ever seen.  Anyway, just wanted to say congrats to the All Blacks and hi to my own Kiwi Angel.

I understand that when I've spent my entire life attempting to buy friends that it's my fault when I find friends that use me, but family?  Come on.  I spend so much money on these people, I don't buy anything for myself without sharing, and nothing.  No small acts of kindness from anyone, and they still spend all their money on their fucking girls.  I'm so sick of doing them favors and expecting random acts of kindness in return.  At least when people were using me in Albany, they would occasionally burst out with something small but thoughtful that would make me smile inside and out, these people just make me feel like shit.  This is my family, and they don't even try to be nice to me.  Sad, frustrating, disheartening.

Constant Anxiety

I've been in a continuous anxiety attack for the past four or five days and I don't know why.  It's really bad too.  It started a few nights ago when I was watching History Channel and I thought about death, death always leads me to an anxiety attack, I closed my eyes and I calmed myself down from it.  It never really went away.  Each night as I tried to finish watching The History of Us on Netflix, I realize that every one of the people that they're talking about is dead and I have to turn it off in favor of more mundane fare such as Family Guy.  I can sleep, but just barely.  I read a blip in Time about a new book that said something like every night we plunge ourselves into oblivion and it's terrifying.  I've always felt that way, but seeing it put into words scared me.  Since the night of the near panic attack (and I differentiate between anxiety and panic) I've had to use the strategy that never fails to alleviate my fear of sleep.  I set my phone alarm for 2-5 minutes from when I lay my head down, and I close my eyes.  I know that the alarm will wake me up in a couple of minutes, so it doesn't seem as scary just to close my eyes, knowing that I'm going to wake up in a couple minutes.  By the time the alarm wakes me up, I'm too close to sleep to be afraid of it.  Sometimes the very act of laying my head to the pillow, knowing that I'm going to be unconscious for the next 4-6 hours is terrifying.  It's the closet we ever get to death and we do it ever night.  So yeah, I'm done. 

So it's three weeks and one day, I was told yesterday that three weeks is a notorious hump for what I'm going through.  Last time, three weeks to the day was as far as I lasted, this time it's just as hard, but I don't want to fail.  I could fail easily, it would be as easy as making a phone call and I could have it delivered faster than a pizza.  No.  I can't.  I won't.  Not this time.  It's hard, harder than it should be.  I'm sick of sobriety.  I just want an escape from myself.  I mean, I'm happy with what I've become.  I'm less controlled by my emotions, my anxiety is way less than it was, but worse than I remember it.  I'm a nice guy right now.  I'm not a slave to my desires.  I'm not broke anymore.  I'm making a possibly unwise investment today when I buy a PS3 instead of what I would normally spend my money on.  I don't know.  I'm rambling.  I'm scared.  I want it so bad.  It's horrible to want something this bad that I know will be nothing but bad for me.  I can't give in.  Well I can give in.  That's the hard part, I could give in if I wanted to, but I WILL NOT GIVE IN!  This is my time to say NO!  It was actually offered to me today and I said no.  I was proud of myself, but I'm not sure if I should be making such a big deal out of it.  It's just that.  Plenty of people control it, but I can't.  I can't control it once I start.  Does it make me weak, maybe, maybe it makes me stronger to know that I can't control it.  I don't know.  But I will not fail.

I come home after a hard day at work and I take it out on the easiest target.  In this case, Him.  I don't like him, he's a horrible, manipulative person that doesn't deserve what limited happiness he has.  He's turned my little sisters against me, and I've already mentioned that he ended up in jail for hitting my mother (which they both still deny, those lying pieces of shit) and he tried to kiss my then 19 year old cousin when she was most vulnerable, again he denies this.  I hate that son of a bitch and I've always hated him.  So after a long day at work when he's being the piece of shit, passive aggressive asshole that he normally is, I almost, finally go off on him.  I bruised his rib once when I was a teenager, now 150 lbs heavier, I'm afraid that I would hurt him a lot worse and end up in jail.  I don't know why everybody doesn't see him as the horrible person he is.  It's entirely possible that this may all be in my head.  My experiences with That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named has left me questioning my perception of reality.  Who do you think the oft mention Manny is?  Manny is simply: The External Manifestation of Internal Strife.  The point being, I don't know he's actually a piece of shit, or if it's all in my head.  I can never trust my own perception when Manny is still a part of my life.  I've read that extended and excessive use of That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named will cause Manny to pop his ugly head up for up to a year after once ceases.  So I'm at 2 weeks now, only 50 to go.  But because He is storming around like the asshole that he is, I must stop this mid rant without ever getting to my reason for starting this post.

The point was: I'm afraid that if I come home from a long day at work and take out my frustrations with life on the easiest target, doesn't that make me potentially emotionally abusive to my future wife and children?  Of course, that's exactly what Asshole does, so maybe it's simply a product of being related to Him.

Or maybe he's actually an asshole and the maybe being out in public and realizing that I am not in fact a piece of shit, of having momentary glimpses of how the world actually sees me, I realize that I'm not the problem.

I feel like I'm on the verge of a huge emotional explosion.  I've been hiding my emotions behind distractions for so long, that now that I no longer have those distractions I feel like I'm gonna blow any second.  Still, time for work :(

The Cold War

I am stuck in a cold war.  There is no overt fighting, but it seems like we're always trying to get a leg up on the other.  It could erupt into a huge fight at any moment.  All it will take is a few insensitive words and the other will react.  I know that if they offend me one too many times, then I could drop a few words and this entire household will be fighting.  All I'd have to say is something insensitive about any of the many family "secrets".  I could point out the time he hit on my cousin (and his step-niece) when she was most vulnerable.  I could bring up the time he went to jail for hitting my mother.  I could remind him how his family thinks he drove his own mother to overdose on morphine. Any of those would do the trick.  I know he resents my presence here, and I still resent his.  I still hate him.

I never realized how much hate is pent up in my heart.  I hate Him, I hate Thor, and I hate myself most of all.

You're right.  They do distrust me, they've distrusted me since day one and as far as the actual disdain for me being in their home, it's obvious.  I've been so wrapped up in trying to get their approval that I couldn't see it.  How naive does that make me?  I thought that by moving in here when they needed me, I might actually, finally get their approval. I can't.  I won't.  No matter how much I try, and I've been trying for the better part of three decades now, I will never, ever get their approval.  So I fulfill my original obligation, because I am a man of my word and I'll give them six months of my life.  I'll use these six months to clean up and get a job, and I will try not to dwell on the fact that my deepest, most secret, life's ambition will never be accomplished.

I would never tell anyone, least of all myself, that everything that I have done in life up to this point has been to gain my parents; approval. It has.  The worst part of every failure in life has been how I was going to explain it to them.  I have never grown up.  It's ironic that it would take moving back home to make me realize that I've never grown up.  I will never get their approval.  They don't trust me.  They don't want me in their home. 

I will never get their approval.  They don't trust me.  They don't want me in their home.
I will never get their approval.  They don't trust me.  They don't want me in their home.
I will never get their approval.  They don't trust me.  They don't want me in their home.

I feel a big fight coming.  Too many little frustrations building up.  It's going to be a knock out, blow out fight that will be talked about in the family for years to come.  It will come down to me failing as a son yet again.  I couldn't cooperate and live like an adult.  It sucks because it's a lot of little things frustrating me right now.  Like the little sisters.  They're both too lazy for words.  Alien actually has her dinner served to her in front of her lap top that her mommy and daddy bought for her and when I was taking out the trash and realized that it was raining and I left my shoes up stairs, I asked her to walk twenty feet to take it out for me, and she refused.  What a stuck-up, lazy, little, moody, bitch.  The glares I get when I use the computer, it's as if I'm doing something wrong just being down here.

Really I need to decided exactly what I'm entitled to as a renter.  I'm certainly getting less than what I was getting in any other rental situation.  I mean, in other situations, I actually get access to public areas.  God forbid I actually wanted to have some friends over to have a few beers, or *gasp* smoke a bowl!  What if I wanted to use the public areas, can't really do that.  If I'm going to be honest with myself, I'm really disliking it here right now.  Of course, in all my past living situations, I've had times where I disliked it.  I really don't want roommates again, if I'm going to move out, it's going to be on my own.  Whatever, fuck these people.