two

This lonliness is exacerbated by the new found enjoyment of a new person from my partner. Their NRE and her eagerness and excitement serve to greatly illustrate how utterly dead I feel inside. I long to have that sort of giddy excitement about anything in my life, let alone someone. Just when I didn't think it possible, I find new and awesome ways of hating myself.

Seas

There are a few things I'm struggling to understand at the moment. Prominent amongst them being how can I be with someone and yet feel so alone at times. With that, comes sensations of uselessness, and the normal plethora of standard negative emotions associated with it. It's like the more I search the more alone I feel, and the more alone I feel the more drastic my search. I trace down old familiar mental alleys and corridors, well attuned to my foot steps, I've loosened these cobblestones personally, and worn away soft indentions where my knees have fallen in tribute and prayer to those old self destructive habits.

I find that anytime I'm left alone to think, my mood and emotions turn pretty harshly destructive. When around other people, or escaping I can box the emotions off into their own little realm. Banished to their room like the petty childish emotions I paint them as in a rude mockery of a monument to my inability to affect my own personal story. How absurd of me to feel powerless in my own story that I write about myself. Yet I feel entirely victim to the whims and indifference to a greater universe than mine own, one wholly hostile and cruel to all the things and ideas I would see manifested.

What causes me the most unending anguish in all of this is not the loneliness, or the literal mind-numbing decades long depression. It's the length of it. The sheer fact that I'm still here, still working on these same fucking problems and these same fucking woes. Had I collected all the tears wept into a bucket I could fairly realistically likely drown myself in it.

Beyond that is only the anger, that vast red sea of unending power and rage that would see all things to their rightful end and deserved place. That is the thing that scares me the most, that even now, some few years after, that ocean is still there, crashing awfully against those all to thin shutters and threatening my calm and tranquil seas. I desire violent change, the kind I don't find productive, or altogether useful, but at least satisfying. The fact this exists, within the context of my relationship, gives me a great deal of guilt and grief.

Never before have I felt so entirely unsatisfied with the sand castle I've built, and so entirely willing to see it all lost to the waves. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

Apologies for the mixed ocean metaphors, I'm a cancer, we deal in all things water.

All is full of love, You just ain't receiving

Subjcets: Crutches vices, is the fake psuedonym (names authors sometimes write under) one? Why do I feel so alone all the time, and what can't I be attracted to people. Disappointed in events I had hopes for, meeting up with becky was nice in dispelling some of my childish preconcieved expectations and notions. While, that the desire is still there, a lot of the emotional edge is gone, which is nicer to deal with. Meeting your heroes, would seem t be an always, in my case. Still, it is hard to see your hopes and dreams annihilated in front of you. There are just so few people who are compatible to me, and then to see a partner walk in, and have her way with a room, with her small and meagerness to my grace and poise, is rough. Not in the jealous way, but in a way of feeling as if i'm somehow at fault. Like, I've done something wrong, when I know, it is, and always has been, and issue of simply not being enough. Not attractive, or normal, or innocent enough. I'm not cis enough to pull off the small shy card. The one I play is the mature gradeful lady who needs no help, but will gladly take your assistance. The independent and equal that you may tear down for her benefit. A submission earned, and deserved, not expected or demanded. The problem, is that I'm late. And that those who desire such a role either have their fill of partners, or are too busy to bother. Such is the problem when you restrict your selection to the pick of the litter. BUt what are my options, lower my standards? does that not then devalue the rest of what I've done and who I've done it with? Does that not ruin my appreciation for submitting when I know in my mind that I opted for a lower class .