Part of the problem, I think, is that I am absolutely sure that I am one of those who doesn't deserve anything but scorn, especially from myself. I don't allow myself to rest because I am certain beyond all doubt that if I were to meet myself on the street without knowing who it is, I'd avoid that person like the plague. Yeah, things may improve in the short-term, but things are on the downward slope over the long term. I cannot reconcile myself to the life that I have found myself in through bad choices and bad luck, and therein is the beating heart of darkness.

When I think about something pleasant--seeing a pretty woman, for instance, the obsessive thought that always comes back is that I am really not relationship material, and worse, I feel it to be true on every level because of how far I've strayed from that median of normalcy. I am the prodigal son who can never return because the "home" has moved on, if that makes sense. I feel the certitude of truth in this whether I want to or not.

And the fact is, no woman is going to want to go out with someone who is this unstable and "needy" in terms of having to be watched and monitored to keep from self-harm, obsessive thoughts, et cetera. Women want a man. I am a broken boy inside the shell of a man, watching as the darkness approaches and not able to do a damned thing about it. I can barely keep myself held together; adding the emotional volatility of a relationship in which I am going to assign too much value is asking for a lot of trouble. Again. So instead, I have to content myself with watching the world pass by because I also have these wonderful borderline tendencies where things are very much black and white. This results in the ridiculous situation lacking only the friend to say, "You want a perfect woman, and she doesn't exist!" This is true only in part because I have OCPD, so there are certain traits I look for and to ignore them when they're lacking causes me to obsess over it. That sounds terribly, horribly shallow, and it's not meant to be because physicality is only a part of it. And again, we come back to the fact that NO woman is going to want to take on the responsibility of going out with someone who is completely bonkers and refuses to take meds.

And this is only the beginning of my descent into madness--so it's only going to grow worse and worse. Plus, there's Alzheimer's on the horizon. I do not trust psychologists, period. I cannot bring myself to divulge personal details because the ever-present thought in the back of my head will always be, "How are they going to use what I am telling them against me?" Comes from 13 years of brainwashing in prison, and yes, that is exactly what they do. Those programs are not designed for rehabilitation, however, when they're hiring people who've been banned from practicing in other states and when they use threats, coercion, and fear to implement their peculiar brand of "rehabilitation." And I will never put myself under someone's authority like that again. Try to Baker's Act me and there's going to be a 9 o'clock news bite on the tv.

Their programs are designed to be politically expedient--make it appear to the public that we're using all this money to "re-educate" convicts to make them functional members of society, when in reality, such programs are designed for failure because they provide "opportunities" to careers like janitors and HVAC--both of which you need to be in a union for around here and both of which whose unions will not hire felons. Catch-22, only not really, because by the time you're that far along in the logic chain, no one cares. After all, I put myself here, right? It was my choices, no one else's. I am the one to blame for this outcome, and blame I do. I love to blame myself. I love to find flaws that I can then attempt to beat out of myself, and there is no end to that sense of justification in self-harm. Don't worry--I deserve it, see? And I'll do it out of sight so you don't even have to think about it or hear it or be cognizant of it happening. I don't care; why should you? It's just some SO. Who cares? Haha, just saying that makes my fingers twitch with the urge to curl up into a fist to be used.

Ah, but there's still the icing on the cake! Don't leave yet! You haven't had the dessert! There's still that wonderful OCPD I have with it's good ol' intrusive thoughts and obsessive thinking! Yeah, I pretty much think about my ex all day every day, but not in the way you'd think. It's more me going over and over the breakup because that obsessive rat brain part of me is convinced I could have done things differently and still holds her on a pedestal...just like Esther. Just like Juliet. And round and around we go! The last ex was the final ex because for me, that was as close to heaven as I will ever come. I gave it my best; my best wasn't good enough. It's as simple as that. There's no going back, and there's nothing that can be done to change it. So, I just sit here at work all day, thinking about her and my other exes even as that causes me to grow more and more angry at myself. But it's okay, it's a slow burn. I'm still at the stage of waking up and throwing up in the middle of the night because of anxiety, but at least it's not regular...yet.

So, I just neglect myself. Deliberately. I don't really get appetites anymore. My stomach has two modes: burning, or silent, and right now, it's burning because I haven't eaten anything all day. When I think about the future and having to feed myself and clean a house and do all the "life" things, I get tired and bored and have absolutely no desire to bother because, really, why bother? What am I living for? Whom am I living for? Don't say "myself" because I don't want to live for myself. I've lived for myself all of my life and I vehemently reject the self now. That is not a purpose worthy of consideration. That leaves only externals, and all the externals are lacking. That in turn sort of ensures that my time here will be brief, no?

But again, I'm not asking for pity. I'm not asking for sympathy. I think I just want to be heard to prove to all those people who are ever-optimistic that life, like video games, sometimes get borked and there's no fixing it.