3. Reading Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin, and FUCK ME. I took notes about things that I wanted to think about. They mostly dealt with time and the relationships people have with it. Age, memory, emotions. Like I was shaking at one point because this is such an incredibly written story. I’ll finish it before I sleep tonight. Then I’ll read a short play by Kerouac called The Beat Generation because Giovanni’s Room is such a short read. I don’t think I’ll get to A Clockwork Orange this month, but I’m glad I got these three books from the library. Reading makes me feel so much better about everything.
2. I got some sense snapped into me on Thursday and I feel better. I learned that I’m not going to get hurt like that again. I will not let it happen. I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing but I will not let it destroy me again. The thing I’ve wanted doesn’t matter. I have everything I will ever need. And it is enough. FUCK. No I don’t believe that. I lied. Okay here’s what I mean: I’m not going to chase after something that will not happen for me. I’m an idealist. I know that, but in this case, my idealism is straight up hurting me. I have to stop. So what if all of my thoughts get stuck inside of me? So what if no one cares? It doesn’t matter. I’m going to be fine. If I never find anyone who cares, so what? Right? At the end of every day, it’s just me. It’s always just going to be me, alone. That’s not a bad thing. I might be tired of being alone, but that doesn’t mean that being alone is wrong. Right? You know I’m obviously trying to convince myself that it’s better to be alone, but I’m such a bad liar. The truth is that I feel like shit. I feel worthless on my own. I can’t connect with anyone, and I need to connect in order to be okay. That’s how I work. That’s how I have ALWAYS worked. It’s so much a part of me, and as much as this need destroys me, I still keep trying because I know I need it. It does matter. The thing I want matters to me. I’m afraid that I’ll go my entire life never knowing. I have books, music, all the stories in the world, but I have no one to share them with. No one reads my posts on here. No one listens to me talk about the things that are important to me and ALSO engages in a conversation about these things with me. It’s all so personal, so I have to build a connection with someone, but if it can’t even start off okay, how is it supposed to build up? I’m not impatient. I just go very quickly because time is limited. I’m running out of it. I have to find what I want soon or I’m going to wither away and rot. I need this. I need to feel like I’m worth something to someone. No one wants to know me the way I would like them to know me. That has to be okay with me, but it isn’t. It’s pathetic of me - I know! I’ve always known, but I think it’s very easy for someone to say “oh you’ll find it” when they’ve already found it or had it. It’s simple for someone to tell me to wait or to say “you’re great, a guy would be lucky to have you.” Oh yeah, then explain some things to me please. Why isn’t there anyone out there who is on my level? Tell me what’s wrong with me because the less I connect with people, the less I feel connected to this universe. The fiction I consume, the realities of others that I absorb, are things that I want. Not every aspect of it, but something. Anything. I have some of it. I think my narrative is worth speaking about but I want it to move forward. I want something else. Look I’m not saying I’m great and that I should already be in a relationship, I’m asking if I’m that much of a freak. If I’m that different from everyone else because it’s killing me. I would never tell anyone that something is wrong with them just because they’ve never been in a relationship no matter how old they are. When it comes to me, I have to take a very critical look at myself and wonder what I’m supposed to do about this. I would rather have what I want and what feels right or nothing at all. I’m not taking the easy way to this, but no one else is either! And they can all find someone to connect with. So what exactly is wrong with me? I’ll answer that. It’s everything. Yes, I’m back at square one with this issue. Yes I’m feeling sorry for myself. I don’t expect anyone else to do it. It’s pathetic. It’s annoying. Shut the fuck up about this bullshit that I have to like myself before anyone else can or before I can be in a relationship with someone. I’m not asking for someone to fix me! Don’t you get it? NO ONE CAN. I AM BROKEN. But who is there while I fix myself? No one. I can’t count on anyone. My friends all have their own shit going on! They all have their own pain. Or they are all happy with their lives. Why would they care about me? While this problem goes much deeper than “oh look at me I’m so lonely because I’m not in a relationship”, it’s shallow of me to think that this problem is even remotely important compared to the real shit people go through. I’m not being dramatic when I say that it’s killing me though. Okay dramatic but sincere. Always. I don’t operate on levels of the insincere. But really who cares? I do, and it hurts. But there’s only so many ways I can express how hurt I am by the universe. It’s annoying for other people. Since no one reads my posts anyway, I’m just going to put it here. At least it’s released somewhere into the world. I’m going to hope that one day I become numb to this particular type of pain - the heartbreak that comes from possibility, watching possibility turn into reality, and then having it snatched away from you because you are fucked up and delusional. So yeah it’s not because I want something I know nothing about. Don’t you get it? It’s obviously because I know how good this could be and I’m not good enough for it. That’s what kills me. I know what this is. I know how powerful it is. I know that I’m right. You can’t tell me it’s not worth it because I know it is. I can’t find it and I probably never will again.
