Because there’s too much to cover. I don’t know where to begin. Do I cover past, present or future? There’s so much shit going on in my life right now, to try and right some half-funny half-asspained blog post covering it all would be impossible. Continue reading
So I get back from NY. I land Wednesday night; it’s 6-hour time zone change. Two weeks of unprotected sex, drug use, neuropsychoanalysis lectures and trying to figure out how the fuck the subway works. It was spectacular. Considering I nearly attempted suicide three days before I left, this kind of experience is supposed to turn my life around. Give me a new perspective. Show me what’s out there. And it did.
Well, kind of.
Friday afternoon I’m opening the door to the IT lab I always go to. I used to go there to fuck around: mindless internet surfing, video game binges. The electronic numbness before I’d drive home and get high and eat shittons of McDonalds. Not this time, though. I’m a changed man. I’m going to work.
This door has this little sensor where you have to hold your student card so it authenticates you and briefly unlocks the door. I pull out my wallet and hold it against it. Blue light, flashes, flashes, flashes, green light. I grab the handle and look up. Robyn is standing right in front of me, looking me in the eye. Out of fucking nowhere. She’s kind of smiling, gives me this half expectant look of ‘are you going to take out your earphones and say hi’. My knee-jerk reaction is to briefly plaster on a fake smile and open the door for her. She enters, walks to her desk, I walk to mine. I’m stuck thinking of her for the next hour.
What the fuck, I think. Continue reading
So I stopped masturbating just over a week ago.
I wanted to cut out one of my escapes. You know, so I can get back to real life. I sit with screens and play video games or fuck around on the internet or watch porn so I can forget just how empty my days are. The despair peaks right at the end of the day when I get back to my flat. I’m tired. My adrenal glands are pumped dry by stimulants. I guilt-trip myself for having done nothing productive that day, that I effectively extended my stay in hell for another twenty-four hours. So I let my sober-self press the eject button. I roll a joint and get into bed. I watch a DotA cast while chowing down on a shitload of McDonalds I picked up on the way home. I feel like masturbating, so I do. I keep watching videos until I pass out.
What’s great about this routine is that, for the most part, there’s no pain. I breathe in the smoke and let the cannabinoids punch through my alveolar walls into my bloodstream. A few seconds later, bam, I’m gone. No more angst, no more despair, no more hopelessness. Just a space where I feel no guilt indulging in impulsive gratification. On the other hand, it’s a sad fucking way to live. Continue reading
So I see she unfriended me. She did it recently, too. Somewhere in the last week, perhaps. I know because every time I went on Facebook I did my best to ever hide or disable the chat pane, which is the only place (besides the fucking group pane) where her name would show up. Now, when I used Tinder, I recognized a friend of hers, and the mutual friend counter sat at zero. I searched for my ex in my friends list, she wasn’t there. With growing trepidation I visited her profile. ‘Add Friend’. She did unfriend me.
The first thing that I felt was the familiar pain of rejection. It blossomed behind my sternum and radiated waves of despair. Then, the rational defense mechanisms kicked in. She doesn’t matter, she’s not special, you neither want nor need anything to do with her, seriously who gives a shit etc etc. It didn’t help much.
I was outside when it happened. It was already dark. I was on campus, smoking on a cement bench under the trees where there’s wifi, having left the rest of my things inside on the desk. I was about halfway through my rolley when I realized what had transpired. I stood up and started walking. I took longer drags, sucked it in deeper, and held it in longer. High levels of nicotine have a sedative effect. I finished it quickly, threw it on the ground, snuffed it, and kept walking. I could feel the numbing sensation kicking in, but it couldn’t come soon enough. I had to stop and put my hands on my knees to steady myself. When I feel things, I feel them. For better or worse. Or perhaps I’m so far in the deep end of social isolation that my psyche has no choice but to kick my ass for every social loss I accrue. Humans are herd animals, and my evolutionary instincts are going apeshit to compel me to just fucking find someone.
After I came back inside and sat my desk I tried my best to stem the tide of pain and angst. I urgently needed to think up a way out.
I could message her asking what prompted the unfriending. No, moron, it doesn’t work that way. She did it because she doesn’t want to have contact with you. Or has she got a new, jealous, paranoid boyfriend who demands that she erase any connections to past lovers? Who knows. Does it matter? Fuck no. Continue reading
I haven’t posted anything in weeks because I’ve felt there’s nothing new to write about.
I’m still struggling to care enough about my academics to actually study. I replace study time with DotA 2.
Approaching and engaging with women has become exceedingly easy. When I recall the shit I’ve pulled off over the course of approximately the last year I’m hit by the sudden realization that chicks like me and they want to fuck me. Continue reading