Posted 17th August 2014 1233

I don’t know anymore. This is going to be very long. I am fucking angry. I’m angry at you, at myself, at existence. At being. I don’t know why, exactly. I can’t pinpoint it. There are myriad tiny, trivial things. I feel like my life has surpassed simple hilarity and moved into the realm of the pathetic. It’s not that I’m overweight. It’s not that I’m ugly. It’s not that I lack confidence. It’s that none of these things matter.

I see people post things online who complain they are fat, or underweight, unhealthy, and as a result are suicidal and have no friends and no girlfriend, etc…I think, well, I was extremely, obnoxiously unhealthy. I was a polysubstance abusing alcoholic with nothing but a death wish and a desire to feel desired.

But then, circumstantially life allotted me yet another chance and I took it and I got healthy. I got lasik. I got the girlfriend back. I got a cool car. I got physically, ridiculously in good shape. I got sober. And what did I get? I left the girlfriend. I got kicked out of a sober living situation for being too “apathetic”. I still have no job. I still haven’t graduated college. I live at home with my family. I have zero friends. My family has recently started to think I’m drinking again. I’m not. It fucking angers me that they even ask or accuse, my fucking dad told me last night I “sounded like” I was drinking on the phone. WTF.

But sometimes I think, at least then I could go talk to people at a bar. At least then I felt some semblance of pleasure. At least then for whatever reason I was not only getting laid, but attracted to women. I couldn’t even get a fucking erection with the last girl I tried to hook up with. WHAT THE FUCK. Since that happened I lost all interest in putting forth effort into dating. It also made me miss my ex. Who I left.

I FUCKING HATE AA. I’ve tried. I’ve tried it time and again. I dislike the people. I dislike the lingo. I dislike the clicks. I dislike the competition on who is doing better. I dislike the gossip on who has relapsed or who is going to. I dislike that they all need to go to a fucking meeting every day to stay sober.

Know what? I haven’t been to more than 2 meetings in a year. And I’m still fucking sober.I hate that the fucking drug/alcohol counselor who owns the rehab I went to and is a millionaire has relapsed, again. I hate that it doesn’t matter because he has so much money. He can AFFORD to relapse.

I’m more angry than anything. Or bored. I thought I enjoyed women or sex or desired companionship, but now I don’t even know.

I thought getting sober would improve my life. If it has, it has in exceedingly small ways. I’m sure in the long run it will be beneficial. But every day this last year has been the same as the fucking previous day.

Every day is the same. Everywhere I go is the same.

I don’t know how to interact with people anymore because I don’t fucking have opportunities to.I gave up on trying to hang out with “friends”. And the one or two that would probably actually hang out with me, I simply don’t want to.

This is my life: a really dumb upper/middle class caucasian joke. A menial and mundane zombified existence. A bourgousie failure. The classic older brother fuck up who still lives at home.

I don’t even know what it means to be an adult anymore. I was more of an adult when I was 19 years old living in an apartment with a girlfriend a block away from the ocean with two jobs and attending school.

I’ve always thought the girls I were with were the problem. I am the problem.I have left/broken up with every girl I’ve been with. Or once I hooked up with them I lost respect or interest in the non-long-term ones.

But I still feel this heart-wrenching and aching love for my last girlfriend. I was with her for so long. I wanted to be. I thought about her every day I sobered up. I knew I would get her back. And I did. And I was happy I did. But she didn’t change much. I need to remind myself that she didn’t change or grow as I did.

Sure, financially she did. But emotionally, stunted. Little fucking child. Constantly reminding me that I wasn’t good enough for her. So why the fuck was she with me then? Eventually I couldn’t take it. I had to get out. But she was so fucking beautiful.

I am not suicidal but I fantasize about it. Like, I WISH I could be suicidal. I wish I could be in that dark of a space to where I didn’t give a fuck.I slightly give too much of a fuck about everything. But I don’t care enough for it to make any difference.

I’m sick of the bare minimum but I have no drive to persist with effort.

I want to have fun. I don’t even know what that means.

I had fun when I drank. I had fun when I drank and had friends who drank with me. That’s the only fun I’ve known.

It’s so dumb. All of this. I’m 26 & I’m eating carrots and that’s about as good as it gets.

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