My last entry, and the suffering that caused it, was, I think and hope, the last bit of my old life dying.
The days of obsessively living out fantasies in my brain while actually hiding out at home doing nothing, those days are gone now whether I like it or not.
What I felt for Alysson was not love. It was merely the most comfortable pattern of events.
I feel deeply undeserving of love
therefore
I am attracted to people willing to confirm that idea to me.
And I remain in pursuit of them, believing that someday I will be made worthy.
Alysson is just like almost every other woman I've dated:
Psychologically troubled and emotionally unavailable, which I hate to confess does make the sex great, but leaves me desperately grateful for the little bit of affection that she occasionally throws my way.
And mark my words, dear diary, that's the last time I fall for that shit.
And I know I have said that before. Unable to sleep last night, I read through every entry that I made on here in 2017. I was stuck in a cruel and severe loop. I imagine that if I looked back further, I'd see that seem cycle played out over and over again.
But I can say that I will change with confidence this time because everything is shifting.
This is my opportunity to break free from all of the holding patterns and cycles of suffering that I find myself in.
Why the fuck would I pack those things into the car with me?
Queen's "I Want to Break Free" is playing in my head as I write this.
I know my new life will have new sufferings, but I am ready for them simply because they will be a change of fucking pace.
And though I spent most of yesterday feeling glum and unattractive and unsexy and whatever else,
Last night, I noticed some beautiful red haired woman liking some older posts of mine on Instagram, so I struck up a conversation with her and now have a date for whenever I'm in Portland.
And through the lens of that very enthusiastic yes that she gave me, I realized that there are a lot of women hanging around my social media presence, so I asked one of them out and now have a date for sometime next week with one of them.
My mental illness has, for years, left me under the table begging for scraps while there is a feast happening around me.
I still have a lot of work on myself to do, but I am at least getting out from under the table and will start to enjoy all of the free food that has long been offered to me.
It's time for a new everything.
Onward. Upward.
6:45 a.m. - 2018-01-04
Recent entries:
Everything You Feel is Important - 2018-01-15
A Not So Brief Attempt at Brevity - 2018-01-13
Don't Bother Reading My Last Post. It Was Just a Bunch of Whining. - 2018-01-10
Don't Bother Reading My Last Post. It Was Just a Bunch of Whining. - 2018-01-10
Fuck me in the fucking face - 2018-01-09
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