So another trip to Eugene and I realize that I'm not 19 any more. Maybe I was never 19, that year was sacrificed to Job Corps in search of maturity and acceptance. The point being, I don't have to be wild and drink 'till I puke every night, I don't have to go on wild adventures across unfamiliar terrain in search of herbal sustenance. So maybe I never had the wild years of partying that most people enjoy between 18 and 21 when everything is new. You're not quite an adult, but you can do whatever you want. But I don't think I'm going to mourn for something I've never had, I like feeling like I'm 30 even though I'm only 21. I love being an adult, with bills to pay, taxes, a job, health insurance. I even love the responsibility of being a Senior Rep. in my personal corner of Hell. So goodbye to those years that were never really mine, good bye to parties and mindless wandering. I'd love to say I'll miss you, but you were never really mine.

I always wake up feeling so lonely, and not really lonely as much as guilty. Oh I don't know any more, but fuck it all to hell, I don't care any more. All I want to do is express myself and not have to put on a happy face like I have to do all day at work and, since moving in with a roommate, all night at home too. Maybe I will call my family, but even with them I have to make up happy stories and tell them how great I'm doing when inside I'm screaming for somebody to notice my pain. I know part of being an adult is hiding your pain and not expressing dissatisfaction with anything, but all I really want is for somebody, anybody to hear my pain so I don't fell quite so alone.

Some days you wake up and just feel like writing. After a night of weird dreams that made me realize how truly disturbed I really am, I woke up and I realized that I am loosing myself. Not loosing control, but loosing who I used to be. I don't want to be a cog in a big corporate machine, I don't want to be numb to other's suffering. I look at myself now and I realize that I don't like who I am. I don't know what I want to be, but I know it isn't this. This facade of happiness that I project to the world is slowly taking over, while inside I'm still screaming for release. And the worst part about it, I'm loosing my ability to spill my soul onto a computer screen.

God! I fell so alone in the world, not just sexually, that's just something that I need to accept, but emotionally alone, like even if I let myself go and be who I really am (or think I am) nobody would care. Do I really need validation from somebody else to tell me that I am good or bad or evil even? I know I shouldn't, but I really do. So here is my weakness for all to see, if somebody stumbles upon this in pursuit of acceptance or merely something to read on a lonely night, drop me a response.

No explanation (sorry) just a poem, by somebody who (obviously) does not write poetry:

Oh sweet Rejection
Rantings of a lonely mind
Lost not today, soon

When isolation ends
When loneliness is comfort
All that's left if me

I know I haven't been posting too much lately, I've just been too busy to sit down and write. Just a quick overview before I get onto what I really want to write about. I finally got that damned senior position about a month ago and things are going good but not great. I think I expected the job to fill a void in me that it just couldn't. I know there's something missing in my life, but I can't seem to find what I'm long for. It's that old undefined sense of longing. Could it simply be a biological urge to reproduce, or maybe I'm craving a relationship, but I've never had one so I know it's not that, or maybe I'm simply feeling my mortality. Which brings me to the real reason I'm writing today.

Anna Nicole Smith died. I know I shouldn't be affected by this, I'm rarely affected by celebrity deaths and never like this. There's just something about her struggle to make something of her life, and ultimately failing that hits something deep in me. What if no matter how hard I try, I don't make it? For all the limited financial success I've achieved, I still haven't found love or anything to fill that void. Now this is getting redundant to me, so I'll end with this note. I'm going to see that cheerleader from high school this weekend that had a crush on me at one time, so everybody wish me luck!

Ah, a good mood is such a fleeting thing. Last night my soul was filled with optimism, I actually did something nice for someone without expecting anything in return. Maybe I've become a heartless automaton, but yesterday for no good reason everything seemed okay. I was optimistic about my new job, but this bitter, bitter old spinster insists on making this job hell for me. I desperately want to be optimistic about this job, but God it is SO hard sometimes. It's not that I can't do the work, but right now it's this old hag next to be that insists on killing my spirit, what a complete bitch. And she doesn't really try to hide it. You know what this is, it's passive aggressiveness.

A distant tugging at my soul and here I am alone for all the world to see. Fine that was just random word strung together to make something. But this is my blog and I can write what I want, though slowly this is starting to mean nothing to me since all of this is the same that it was a week ago, a month ago, a year ago. Nothing ever changes. For example, yet another senior rep. possistion opened and just like a month ago and eight months ago and ten months ago I'm going to apply for it. And just like happened last time, and the time before and the time before that, I'll come this close *hold fingers* but not quite there. How many times does this have to happen before I finally give up? And what do I mean by give up? I don't know anymore, all I know is that something got to give soon. Either I get the job and my routine is broken, or I don't get the job and my routine isn't broken, in which case I'll probably do something drastic that I'll regret, or maybe I won't. Maybe I really am a bi-polar schizophrenic sociopath. Maybe I'm just a product of mental illness, and if this were true, I cannot be held responsible for any actions. Imagine the possibilities.

So my mother calls me last night freaked out over me being potentially bi-polar, since when does that bitch have a right to give a fuck about me? Wow, where did that come from? I don't know, but let's go with it. Actually let's not, I'm just so tired of being so stressed, so angry and depressed, and now this will take an extraordinary amount of effort to fix, not to mention money. My mom acted really strange last night, like she was talking down to me and pretending to care now that she realizes that something real might be wrong with me, even though she's always treated me like shit. I repeat, what gives her the right to give a fuck about me now after all that she's put me through. She was never there for me growing up, we were always so fucking poor. I didn't even ask for graduation picture, or year books, I was embarrassed asking for graduation ware. What am I doing here, I'm at the very edge of tears right now just because mommy didn't love me. Goddamn her for putting me through this. This is all her fault, just like every fucked up thing in my life, it's all her fault. I was fine with being bi-polar, my thought was I've always been like this, so now my life can finally start to get better. I've always been one to wallow in self pity, but I would never let people feel for me. I don't really want anybody to care. It's weird, I want people not to care, I say that all I want is for somebody to care, but when they do I get nervous and try to push them away. Like it's un-manly to need somebody to say it's going to be okay.

So my shrink tells me I may be bi-polar, manic depressive, or something like that. Which makes a lot of sense, every bad thing in my life can be categorized into manic or depressed. What I'm concerned about in this post is that if I'm always in some state of mania or depression, where is the real me? Does the real me actually exist or am I a merely a culmination of mental distress?

Do you ever wake up too depressed to get out of bed, do you still get out of bed or do you role over and spend the day crying, wallowing in self pity? Well I rolled out of bed this morning and 5:15 (Before dawn!) and even though I've been at work for almost two hours, I'm still fighting to keep back the tears for no good reason. Maybe it's just that last week was a week of constant rejection. I put myself out there no less than three times last week and nothing was successful, no promotion, A doesn't hate me but can never think of me as anything other than some guy from work, I mentioned interest in Cassie and she ignores me. There you go, the hat trick of rejection, I think this is a record even for me. But finally, one small, minute thing goes right for me. There was too much availability on the phones, and they picked me to take a half hour off (paid!). I know it isn't much, but when you're feeling as down as me, there's nowhere to go but up. On the bright side, well there really is no bright side, but 6 shots of espresso later and everything is tainted by caffeine. So smile the first day of the weekend is almost 1/4 over.