Out of the Wilderness.

Hello again.  I’ve been preoccupied and distracted.  Busy.  I wish I could tell you that my life was improving.  Well, on paper it is… I’m going back to college and I’m doing okay.  Alas, on the psychosocial front I am dissolving.  It has been a foray into the wilderness of humanity.  Dating unsuccessfully, meeting loads of new people and not making any friends.  I have been chemically prevented from anything like serious disdain or regret but lately… I’ve been more circumspect.  As I think about my experiences I am reminded of “As Good As It Gets” with Jack Nicholson.  Wherein his character, who has psychosocial issues comes to the realization that maybe “this is as good as it gets”.  The more I think about that, the less hopeful I become.

I feel lonely so I reach out.  It starts out fine.  Then a joke is told, usually followed by some confusion or misunderstanding and it all goes south rather quickly.  What was supposed to be funny becomes a serious discussion and then degenerates into an argument.  You can’t say anything nice about yourself without people getting extremely precious about it.  Whether it is true and you are simply stating a virtue or it is a joke and you don’t actually mean it at all.  It just turns into a tragedy and every bit of hope that you had for having a nice easy happy social life goes completely to shit.

I like people less and less.  I like myself less and less.  I become introspective about the entire thing and the suicidal ideation that hasn’t been a part of my life for so long starts creeping back in.  COmpletely welcomed like an old friend.  Why bother?  You try to be nice, it starts a fight, you try to be defensive and keep people at arm’s length and it becomes an argument.  Dating is a mixed bag of solipsistic and shallow women and meaningless encounters that range from indifference to casual sex.  Nothing lasting or progressive.  I’m an odd virus in a petri dish.  Nothing else can exist in this space without corruption by or with me.  I either devour it, or it is so hallow that I simply spread right through it, obliterate it completely.

So, without love… Without support or close ties, friendships or lovers, what exactly is the point?  If this is as good as it gets, why carry on?  I cannot be cured, I cannot live a healthy balanced and normal productive life, so why live?  I’m not feeling sorry for myself.  I genuinely want to know.  How can I find meaning in this wilderness.  What is my purpose?  To continually attempt to have a better life that I am utterly incapable of maintaining, only to fail repeatedly and simply be frustrated…?

I don’t want that.  Every single street has a one way sign…

Necessary Biological Transgression. 

You’ll be misunderstood and spend much of your time alone. It will be frustrating. You’ll second guess yourself. Thinking over things you’ve said  and done, knowing that some are definitely questionable. Therefore wondering if the rest are contributing brush strokes in painting a horrible picture. This is of course a waste of time and an exercise in vanity. 

You will never truly belong. No deep and lasting connections. Mostly obligatory social interactions. This is as much to do with your personality as it is your disorder. Though, from whence comes your personality? You were a sweet child and adolescent. Even very kind and sociable throughout your teens.

People who should know you, know about your disorder, still misunderstand you.  They are surprised and upset by your behaviours or impulse issues. Which hurts your feelings, creates distress and rifts between those who would be closest to you. Therefore your depression comes all the more easy, you are the most isolated and ostracized person in the world.  Totally alienated from everyone, nobody ever making the extra effort to include you. To reach out.  To let you know that you are loved and cared for.  Because you likely aren’t.  

Your sense of genuine attachment or connection to other people begins to atrophy.  You drift further away from humanity.  Your own sense of belonging to the species eroding.  Messages of decisiveness and hatred filtering in from social media and news outlets.  Misanthropy pervading your very being.  Nihilism becomes you.  Soulless.  Suspended in darkness, peering dispassionately out at the swan song that is the human pathogen as you prepare to egress.  Mutate.  Next evolution. 

Alive and Kicking 

I’m still living.  I’d like to tell you that I’m more stable but that just isn’t true.  My whole life is on hiatus.  I’ve been accepted to college where I’ll be taking fashion business.  I genuinely have a gift for such things.  Delilah has moved on.  Resuming a relationship with an abusive jackass who doesn’t deserve her.

I recently heard some laughable news that Kali is marrying  the man she was cheating on to be with me.  I pity them both.  Neither have the strength of character or independence to address the fact that they couldn’t suit one another less.  At least they look good together.  They’ll carry on being miserable.  Marriage only compresses and condenses that.  I want to be happy for her.  I really do.  I’ll always love those I have loved.  So, I always prefer to feel the best about the future of those I’ve loved.  But I genuinely do not feel as though this is the best for her.  There is a part of my heart that knows that I was better for her.  I feel ashamed that I failed her.

He isn’t a bad man.  They aren’t bad people.  They just have nothing to offer each other.  It’s a sad little world.  No future.  Bleak.  None of my business.

I’m be gone forever soon.  There will be so many women like her where I’m going.  Some of them might even be sane.  I’m still going to be there.  Still alive.  Still kicking.

So Long and Goodnight

I’ve left Kali behind and immediately my life got immensely better.  It’s so wild to think that the pheromones of that woman had me so twisted up I believed that she was actually in love with me.  She is Poison Ivy from Batman.  She uses her pheromones to make men go crazy and do her bidding.

Now Delilah is back in my life.  Slowly working her way back in.  I am not jumping into a relationship.  Yet she and I are talking and getting physical.  It’s comforting.  She is such a sweet woman.  I’ve also gone visiting with other women, some new and some from my past.  My friend Crazy is having similar issues with a man with whom she is sleeping.  She and I are getting close and considering physical options.  She is an ex of mine from 20 years ago.

Sure, there is a part of me that recognizes that I am filling a void.  However, there is also a part of me that is merely making up for lost time.  I don’t like spending long periods of time out of service.  So this entire clusterfuck with Kali represented a gross loss of time that I need to recuperate.

I will always love the women that I have loved.  I still love Kali.  But I also still love Crazy, Delilah and Kimberly, whom I visited in the big city recently.  Then there was Sylvie whom I did finally manage a session with.  Though now she has started dating another guy.  Truthfully without the bonds and restrictions of a relationship I always find something new to get up to.  Or something old to get up to.

I can’t rightly complain about my life.  Things are improving.  Spring is coming and I’ve left another controlling, manipulative woman in the dust.  I pity her.  I pity the shortsightedness of women.  Their total incapability to work through such tiny issues to gain the big prize and all the little beautiful things along the way.  I am super considerate, so being a woman in my life is rewarding.  I will always be there for you and thoughtfully doing sweet and useful things for you.  So to just discard that is the paramount of insanity.  I have recently had a run of bad experiences with woman incapable of moving up and onward with their lives.  Improving and expanding.

There will come the one someday.  Until then I am actually very blessed with feminine presence in my life.  I am just going to go on safari and enjoy the majesty and beauty of the natural wildlife all around me and let it move me.  The goal in my life is to be a better person than I was in a better place than I was and I am achieving that.  Leaving behind those who have no interest in these things doesn’t hurt me in the slightest.  In fact, it is a huge benefit to me.  I have taken a massive step up.  So long and goodnight!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dead Inside

My emotions have taken a beating in the last little while.  The woman I love has become an uncertainty in my life and this simply destroys me.  I genuinely love her.  More than anything.  I want nothing else in this world than to be with her always.  Yet, after months of receding texts and pictures, no visits nor phone calls of any kind… she seems to have turtled completely.

I’m not saying that it’s over, but it doesn’t look good and I am distraught.  I don’t have what it takes right now to deal with something like this.  I don’t know if I will recover from this.  I don’t know if after all of this neglect I will be able to see her the same.  I feel like you can’t care about someone and treat them this way.  So, this is causing me harm.  It is doing damage.  Damage from which I’m afraid there is no healing.

I don’t want the woman of my dreams to become something I resent because she has totally failed to provide me with any kind of relationship.  I don’t want to look at her as selfish and cruel.  I don’t want these to be the surviving traits that come through this storm.  Because if they are then there was no sense in weathering it to begin with.  I want to girl who genuinely thought about me.  I want the girl who loves my everything.  Who sends me cute pictures.  Who doesn’t withhold things from me or flat out lie to me.  Alas, this woman is slowly disappearing and I am left with nothing but the dream of her.

I have been very depressed and I think she has been as well.  Yet this is no excuse to treat one another poorly.  I am always kind to her, I always think of her.  She never thinks of me, never texts unless I have first.  I feel more and more that this relationship is one sided and as I do despite the love that I feel I am angry.  Not so much with her but myself because I know I deserve better.  She wanted me because I was so considerate, yet totally fails to earn that.  She takes me for granted and neglects me completely.

So.  I guess I have to pull the trigger on another one.  My heart really can’t take it.  I can’t help but feel like this was the goal all along.  I just wish she had been a better person about it and had simply let me go rather than waste my time, my hopes and emotions.  Now I’m going to be hurt for a good long while and I won’t be able to be with anyone.  At this point even if it could get better, if an improved version was offered I don’t know that I could take it… I love her more than anything but I doubt that it will get better and even if it was it will always go back to shitty.  Now that I know she genuinely doesn’t give a shit I will always know that.  It will always end up right back here.  So why fucking bother?

I don’t know why I do this to myself.  I meet women who seem so great and then they just abuse the shit out of my good nature.  Which is why I’m a total asshole most of the time because I don’t want anyone to get close like this and do shit like this to me.  To exploit my empathy and care and then just fucking ditch me.  I’ve gotten nothing from this relationship.  Nothing.  I can’t even get her to call me!!!  If you love someone this isn’t even a thought.  This isn’t something that you ever consider NOT doing.  So yeah, the more I write about how so totally fucking horribly shitty this whole fucked up deal has been for me, the more angry I get.  I don’t want to hate her completely so I have to stop writing.

The question is, when I go do I fucking torch the shit out of the bridge or not…?

 

Dark Side of the Moon.

I’ve made references to being on the “dark side of the moon” in the past.  It comes full circle.  For me it almost always does.  It is a place only the mentally infirm will know.  I know many do not view bipolar as “insanity” in the traditional sense.  Talking to ourselves, being paranoid or distrustful.  Making delusion assertions or hysteria.  No, for the most part we bipolar types fly under the radar.  We are primarily acceptable.  Until we aren’t.  In those moments when we are not it isn’t evident that we are suffering from an illness.  I’ve said things of this nature in the past but I will reiterate: our mood disorder and the behaviours that accompany it are attributed by onlookers as personality traits.  Even when they are aware of your disorder.  Sometimes they become hostile especially because of it.  Like, don’t you know any better?  As though mid-episode you can snap out of it merely by focusing on the fact that it is happening…

Human beings are small.  Despite having the largest brains and being the most intelligent species we are on average super-stupid.  My estimated IQ is half again what is considered average.  This is no boast, it is actually a curse.  Things that are mundane to me are super challenging or do not even register for the average person.  Even in attempting to explain it to them in very carefully chosen, simplified language I still think that most of the time I am misunderstood.  People who believe that in marching for equality that property damage is in some way acceptable or will not in any way hinder or override their cause…  Protesting in general.  Pointless.  A show of force is only good for one thing.  War.  If you are not prepared to fight, the side that is will win.  People still do not get this.  I digress.

Between ignorance, emotions and plain stupidity I find myself in a very unique place.  A kind of loneliness that few will ever comprehend.  For unless you have a mood disorder or have dealt with one long enough to truly understand it, are of above average intelligence and will not take anything I say as an immediate affront, you and I will probably not get along.  I know, it seems like I pity myself.  There are times where I do.  There are times where I miss being the center of attention.  I used to have hypomanic episodes that placed me in party mode and made me indispensable.  Now there is a part of me that no longer really tries because I recognize the value in my separation from everyone else.  Social media is still an issue…

Back to the Dark Side of the Moon.  This is the place that I reside.  Like many of my ilk.  I knew the song “Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd off of the album “Dark Side of the Moon” since before I could talk.  Only recently did it enter my thoughts due to my current mind state.  I went over the lyrics as I recalled them.  Sure enough it struck me… the song was about Syd Barrett.  It has themes of loss of sanity, well clearly the word “lunatic” is used frequently.  Moreover however is the lyric: “I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon” which is Roger Waters essentially admitting that he feels that sooner or later he is bound to join Barrett in his psychological state.

There we are, standing off the path, on the grass.  When everyone else is happily strolling along on the path as intended.  You find yourself playing music, yet the people in the band are all playing a different song than you are.  You are the odd one out, you don’t know the melody and no matter how you try to play along your song isn’t the same.  Like Syd Barrett you stand on stage with a band you’ve been playing with for years and mid song you find yourself launching into a completely different one.  Eventually you simply wander away.  You are no longer a member of any band.  You fade away and you find yourself alone.  On the dark side of the moon, as nobody hears from you in years.  Moreover, nobody is really looking for you all that hard.  You do not get invitations.  Christmas cards are a laughable concept.

So you dig a well.  You sit at the bottom.  You die inside.  The few voices that break through into this void you have created tell you not to give up.  You have no clue why.  If there was any need of you the phone would ring.  Isn’t it simply easier in the long run?  Just to fill the well with water?  Or concrete?

February is the worst thing that can possibly happen to me.

Triptych Pastiche.

The title will support the theme of this article and were I half the writer I believe myself to be I would actually make of it as such.  Though I am a finely crafted mimic, a recurrent undertone in the homily that is my life’s tale, I am only that and nothing more.  However… As a pastiche one can be renewed as unique, sublime, original and divine, for this is upon which I have been mired for so long.  It is possible to pay homage to multiple things and thus be set apart as something wholly individual.  To be defined, whilst still tipping ones hat at those from which it draws its characteristics.

Contrary to what I had originally believed to be true, I am really rather well defined in three parts:

There is Jack McBastard, the interloper.  The unwelcome rogue.  An agent of chaos, he brings to the table a litany of useful tricks and characteristics.  Even though the result may invariably be ruin and carnage he is an agent nonetheless.  An agent provocateur.  The mad keeper of the gates to Mania.

Dysphorian Alpha, the future self that I strive for always.  A partially built, megalithic construct assembled from the parts of great men that I admire.  He is found in my visage as it is the simplest part of myself to shape.  The finest shave, a collection of eau de toilette, finery and positive charms.  Socially acceptable at my best behaviours and always upbeat.  I find him in my genuine confidence, my lack of fear or need for competition as these things suggest loss of control or rivalry.  Alpha is peerless, yet humble, his confidence dictates that he has no need of displays.  He is rarer than the other two as he is the final stage of my metamorphosis.

Then there is Dysphorian the curator.  My present and evolving regular self.  The glue and stitches holding together the poorly grafted frankenpersonality.  The man who plays between these two diametric titans and is torn asunder from the fray.  When they clash, he is crushed between them.  When they dash in opposite directions, he is drawn and quartered.  This is the character that everyone sees.

As I have stated in the past, there used to be confusion with regards to bipolars and whether or not they were multiple personality.  It is easy to understand, we aren’t multiple personalities, we are several personalities attempting to be one.  He is the curator, the keeper of the characteristics and traits.  Perpetually under the weight of the opposite poles and far behind schedule.  Always playing catch-up.

With regards to Kali… I have been the ass.  I have been playing catch-up between these two and finding myself much needier than I should.  I have been impatient and moody and there has been no need of it.  Things aren’t going to be like a newlywed’s honeymoon everyday.  That is the matter of going through life without being in control of our own circumstances as of yet… That can be expected.  I am merely going to do my best to keep the romance alive and not worry so much if she isn’t always available at every moment.  I knew, and know, that this is an unrealistic expectation.  I should know better than to push so hard when there is nowhere to push to, that is exactly how pressure is made and nobody likes pressure.

I love her.  I can never lose her.