Today is what I am going to call an "opium den" day.
When I lower the blinds to my window, I almost have total darkness.
I am on my bed, surrounded by pillows, I've got some slow tempo, bass heavy grooves playing, and, perhaps most importantly, I just upgraded to dabs and fuck...I am floating right now.
And this is what I am going to do today. Do drugs and be comfortable.
Which, sure, is pretty much what I do most days, but today I am committing to it.
I want brownies.
God, I am so high.
Why?
Because the world is too fucking much. Jesus. I can't take it.
I've stopped watching the news altogether. And I used to pretty much do nothing but read the news.
I am limiting myself on social media. I am going to have a heart attack if I see another crazy Christian cat lady compare Covid to the flu. Or whatever the current #trending misinformation is these days.
I don't trust the government. At all. This will be the textbook example of why one shouldn't have a businessman run the country. Though honestly, I don't feel it would be much better under either Clinton, Obama, or either Bush.
It would, for sure, be better. No doubt. But I still think it would be an excuse for corporate bailouts and stock buybacks no matter who was "in charge."
It sometimes feels like we live in a fiefdom, doesn't it? Fiefdom light, at least. All of us peasants at the mercy of wealthy landowners and big strong businessmen.
Didn't mean to turn this into a manifesto. Apologies.
My point is that my current mood would not be described as "optimistic."
Not just for my country (tis of thee), but for the world.
I mean, God, we started the year with the world literally on fire.
Things ain't looking great.
And then there's the little things.
Like I always feel I am in my roommates way. And never really have space myself.
How stir crazy I feel.
When I go to the grocery store, I choose one that's a thirty minute drive away instead of the one two blocks from my house, just so that I have a reason to be outside longer.
I don't feel comfortable anywhere.
Physically, because chronic pain and etc.
Emotionally, because I've got that thing where I always have to make myself small and quiet and unobtrusive.
Because I've got that thing where I am nervous I am making someone angry or hurting their feelings.
Sometimes I think I can really only relax and be myself when I am like this, in a dark room alone. But what kind of "self" is that? What does that make the me that is seen and interacts?
And I am lonely.
And horny.
And I hate the word horny.
But what's the better word?
Lustful?
That doesn't fit as well.
I want to have sex, but also can't have sex.
Not just because of the pandemic.
There is a woman that I have been hooking up with here in Tulsa.
I see her once or twice a week. We text a little here and there.
She's pretty great.
But I have recently realized is that it will soon be a year that we have been having sex. And neither of us are having sex with anyone else.
Which kind of makes her my girlfriend, in practice if not in title.
And that scares me. And it's stupid that it does.
And what I don't want to tell her, what I can't tell her, is that I have really started caring about her and that makes me really not want to have sex with her anymore.
I feel embarrassed even to write that.
It feels fucked up.
I feel fucked up.
But emotionally, I can't seem to connect right now. I can't seem to be open.
Everything feels so raw.
So I must keep my distance.
For safety.
And she's been kind of using me as a therapist.
She sits on the couch, tells me about her childhood.
I actively listen, repeat back a summary of what she said. Empathize.
It sounds like your mom taught you not to rely on her.
Exactly, she says, she goes on.
And I used a glib example there, but her trauma is real and long lasting.
And it's good to let people talk and feel.
I am glad to do it.
But that only increases the emotional connection.
And it also warps the power balance. I am not nearly as open as she is.
I don't really know why this is the case, maybe it is just a part of my sexual shame story.
Maybe it's because I've only known emotionally manipulative codependent relationships and am afraid of getting burned again.
But I don't want to fuck with feelings.
A sentence that works on several levels.
I feel guilty and ashamed by that.
And so now, even when I try to masturbate, I have these flashbacks.
Of all the wonderful women I have let get away.
Of all the times I felt too frozen to act or too oblivious to the idea that anyone could ever want me.
Of all the times I came too soon or was not attentive enough.
Anytime I was inadequate, selfish, scared.
And believe it or not, that kind of kills the mood.
Thanks, brain.
Thanks, brain, for all of this.
Sometimes I really hate being me.
Which is not to say that I hate me. I think I am alright most of the time.
But I hate being me.
I hate being in this body and seeing the world through this brain.
It feels exhausting.
I don't know how to stop.
So today I am turning off the lights and smoking a ton of weed and watching nature documentaries and reading Harry Potter.
Existence can wait another day or two.
9:46 a.m. - 2020-04-15
Recent entries:
Too Emotionally Soft for the Apocalypse - 2020-08-01
Finding my own voice in the wilderness - 2020-07-03
Looking Back - 2020-05-11
Pills, Pills, Pills - 2020-05-08
Anxiety is a real motherfucker - 2020-05-03
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