04/24/21: Mommy Issues

Last night I had a dream that I ran into an old friend from my first high school. We were never really close, we just played the new call of duty together. In the dream he was homeless and I found him in a lineup of shady characters. I took him to a library that lived above a parking garage. It was open twenty four hours and had no doors, but there was always someone there. Not a worker, just one patron at a time

Today I got a call from my ex. She was sobbing and asked me how I could be doing okay. I have been felling really good lately. I’ve been drawing and writing more than usual and my mental state is at it’s best when I do these things. I play videogames when I’m sad. She says the way I deal with things is unhealthy. So does my dad. I know they’re right but I know no other way. Books make great distractions.

Everything I do is a distraction from my inevitable death

I can’t sleep. This NASCAR left turn race track with new opponents on each lap requires too much of my attention to allow it

This cocktail of melatonin and a swig of NyQuil is my new best friend

I’m not sad like I should be. A year and a half of my life gone and I got over it in one cry. Me thinks me stunt me growth by getting comfortable. Depression kitty speaks slowly and her voice is smooth like glass. I do however feel immense guilt. I have a track record in the heartbreak department. Most of my relationships end the same. I slowly screwball into a deep depression because at some point weeks before I break up with with -whoever- I know things will come to an end. That’s my mourning period, but I am weak so rather than ripping the band-aid off I slow brew that shit. It’s unfair to these people I’ve hurt. My only defense is that this period of depression is spent in constant conflict because I don’t see flaws in these people I’m with, I just don’t love them.

Sometimes I think I haven’t ever loved anyone

Sometimes I think I can’t love. I feel like a robot zeep-zorp. This is a trait consistent with narcissists, but I loathe myself too much for that so the only other option is sociopathy

I want to pop depresso-pills but everyone I’ve mentioned it to says that they take more than they give

Today I delivered a package to a woman who was old enough to be a grandmother to a teen-mon’s child. She had the prettiest eyes I had ever seen. A bright piercing blue that saw no wrongs in the world. In Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” there’s a drug called soma. You’ve read it so I think you know what it does

It seemed like she was on that. She was as light and happy as Abbey Crowe

Another woman called me sweetheart and honey when I gave per the package

She looked like a mom

I got back to my van and melted in my seat

I think I have mommy issues. Eric says I need to find a cougar. Maybe he’s right. I get bored with people easily but I will marry anyone willing be the big spoon/willing to call me honey/willing to hold me and tell me things are fine

Every time you text me it feels like a sick joke. I’ve hurt you and hurt you and you let me fall right back into your arms. The optimist in me thinks you really do love me, and you’re willing to deal with these growing pains because of it

The other thinks this is the pettiest way anyone has ever tried to hurt me

You’ve told me time and time again

snake bites snake bites snake bites

I still haven’t figured out why I never listen

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