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.

Hope is such a fleeting thing and every time I think it's dead, it just isn't. This weekend was filled with hope that by Monday morning was killed and is now just the dull ache of bitter disappointment in the corner of my soul. There is a long and boring explanation to all of this, along with feeling to go with all of it, but for now I'll give you the short:

Last week I thought for some reason that there might be something between me and a girl at work who happened to break up with her boyfriend. But I asked her out for a drink a couple of nights in a row, she seems to be busy most night. And if movies have taught me anything that when a girl is busy more than two nights in a row then they're not interested. So that ended civilly, not a big deal. I made it clear that I might be interested and she made it equally clear that she isn't without any embarrassing moments for either of us.

Then before that I had applied for a promotion, I didn't think I really had a chance, but I applied for it anyway trying desperately not to get my hopes up. But then get I get called into a meeting, I joked and asked if I was in trouble, they said no and that it's something positive. So for a few seconds I let myself believe that I got the job. And then, I didn't get the senior job. But as a compliment to Job Corps, my supervisor who has doing interviews for 15 years said that I had the best interview skills she's ever seen. Of course that doesn't make it any easier. They told me that it was "this close" *holds her fingers really close* between me and another person. But they said that to me last time. Who knows maybe in another 9 months, I can apply for another senior job and it'll be this close *holds fingers even closer*. So for now I just smile and accept the rejection yet again, and realize that life really doesn't have anything better in store for me.

So now we have two cases of hope, then rejection. And now the last, and maybe least bit of rejection. I jump online for a few minutes after work on Friday before loosing myself in a cloud of smoke and I see a girl from highschool online. I hadn't thought about her in months, but for some reason I was filled with more hope than I probably should have been, but maybe it's because I was still feeling a little rejected by the girl from work. Either way, I start thinking, maybe hanging out with her will be fun, I haven't been to Eugene for a couple of months etc. She even started talking about slightly less than professional stuff, i.e. smoking stuff and other adult activities. And then a boyfriend. Not a huge deal, but I always tend to think of the maybe, just maybies in life.

So there you have it, a weekend that was alternately the best weekend ever and the trip into despair and it all stems from that bitter seed hope.

Die hope. Die.