(no subject)
You are mine...but now I have no roommate, no hope of finding one, and have no idea how I will pay for you through next March...
http://bjbpartners.com/site/property/general/23
I've become increasingly convinced that a year from now I will be either dead, homeless, or insane as a result of social isolation and (no reason to think this might happen, but it's possible) my band breaking up. More than ever, the band I'm in is the only thing keeping me going, the only goal I'll have for the rest of my life. For the last two years I've had roommates all around me in the dorms but now they're all going to go away and I'll have no one. I'll have no way to meet anyone. The only conversations I'll have will be with the voices in my head. Our main friend outside the dorm just became the girlfriend of the guy I share a room with. They're always sleeping together next to me. I woke up today and there they were, and all I could feel was rage and disgust. I tried to bury myself in Persian literature that decries romance as a source only of pain, as something that blocks our ascension to the ultimate peace: annihilation of the soul within God. I instinctively turned my head at the rustle of bedsheets and saw a flash of legs and panties, and the static clenched my brain in its talons once again, forcing shivers and twitches, filling me with the urge to slice into my oily, pulsating flesh...or to blind the women I find with hot coals, to get my revenge for all their laughter and their snide comments and their deception and their looks of disgust and pity, worst of the worst, pity. I pushed two of my fingers into my brain stem to calm myself, but as soon as I removed them the thoughts of impending doom returned. Do I sound like a drooling psychopath? Well then don't doubt me when I tell you I'll die out on the streets, too proud to crawl home with my tail between my legs, losing my teeth, hallucinating from lack of food and shrieking about government and TV-mind-control and whateverthefuck else. All this delivered as horrible truths so often are: by the closest of friends and confidants. I don't know if they felt something was troubling me today, but the fact is that their peaceful cooing has become a monument to everything I've never had and never will have: love, stability, acceptance, unity, contentment. Women are like heroin: you try not wanting it, you hate it with all the fiber of your being but still you need it very fucking little second of the day. The time of friendship is over and soon the aimless, hopeless, hideous bachelors like me will freeze like mastodons and disappear. It's as cruel as the rest of evolution: I can't adapt, so I will perish. And don't fuckin' tell me I'm overreacting: would you want a college graduate who's never had a girlfriend? Would you really be so forgiving of that learning curve? And don't say I can be happy without it (as if I'm talking to anybody anyway...the only people who still read this bullshit are Maddie and Miguel, who's said all he has to say about it already): what's a forty year old man to do without a wife and kids? He can't fill his life with the people of his youth. The only thing left in his future is death. I hope nobody feels sad when I go, because there's really no point in getting all upset over it. Nobody can help me. No use crying over a lost cause.
http://bjbpartners.com/site/property/general/23
I've become increasingly convinced that a year from now I will be either dead, homeless, or insane as a result of social isolation and (no reason to think this might happen, but it's possible) my band breaking up. More than ever, the band I'm in is the only thing keeping me going, the only goal I'll have for the rest of my life. For the last two years I've had roommates all around me in the dorms but now they're all going to go away and I'll have no one. I'll have no way to meet anyone. The only conversations I'll have will be with the voices in my head. Our main friend outside the dorm just became the girlfriend of the guy I share a room with. They're always sleeping together next to me. I woke up today and there they were, and all I could feel was rage and disgust. I tried to bury myself in Persian literature that decries romance as a source only of pain, as something that blocks our ascension to the ultimate peace: annihilation of the soul within God. I instinctively turned my head at the rustle of bedsheets and saw a flash of legs and panties, and the static clenched my brain in its talons once again, forcing shivers and twitches, filling me with the urge to slice into my oily, pulsating flesh...or to blind the women I find with hot coals, to get my revenge for all their laughter and their snide comments and their deception and their looks of disgust and pity, worst of the worst, pity. I pushed two of my fingers into my brain stem to calm myself, but as soon as I removed them the thoughts of impending doom returned. Do I sound like a drooling psychopath? Well then don't doubt me when I tell you I'll die out on the streets, too proud to crawl home with my tail between my legs, losing my teeth, hallucinating from lack of food and shrieking about government and TV-mind-control and whateverthefuck else. All this delivered as horrible truths so often are: by the closest of friends and confidants. I don't know if they felt something was troubling me today, but the fact is that their peaceful cooing has become a monument to everything I've never had and never will have: love, stability, acceptance, unity, contentment. Women are like heroin: you try not wanting it, you hate it with all the fiber of your being but still you need it very fucking little second of the day. The time of friendship is over and soon the aimless, hopeless, hideous bachelors like me will freeze like mastodons and disappear. It's as cruel as the rest of evolution: I can't adapt, so I will perish. And don't fuckin' tell me I'm overreacting: would you want a college graduate who's never had a girlfriend? Would you really be so forgiving of that learning curve? And don't say I can be happy without it (as if I'm talking to anybody anyway...the only people who still read this bullshit are Maddie and Miguel, who's said all he has to say about it already): what's a forty year old man to do without a wife and kids? He can't fill his life with the people of his youth. The only thing left in his future is death. I hope nobody feels sad when I go, because there's really no point in getting all upset over it. Nobody can help me. No use crying over a lost cause.