New Year, Old Angst

Well 2011’s had a bit of a shaky start for me thus far. It’s my own fault, just like I always seem to have bad days after I cock up important things like going to bed the day before. I don’t know why, but things completely beyond my control often go awry on top of the things that are consequences of my own actions. Karma perhaps?

Part of my woes I can squarely put down to my poor handling of Christmas. I have 12,000 words of essays to write and I planned to get them started during the first week of the Christmas break. Instead, I made a mess and got behind on my preparations for Christmas, leaving me with a rushed 23rd and no reading done. So now I’m panicking just a little. And procrastinating by writing blog posts rather than getting any real work done.

Beyond my direct control, however, is a sudden rattled feeling tied in to the depressive loneliness I’ve felt for the last decade. A friend of mine has had some love troubles recently, and they’re pretty bad. But the stuff that came up in conversation with this friend has dredged up some of my own demons relating to a girl I threw out of my life eighteen months ago. I thought I was over the worst of my feelings for her, but it turns out I have some stuff left unresolved in this fuzzy old head of mine.

My chief problem, I think, is the lack of a distraction. I’ve tried throwing myself into my work as a coping method before, but it just isn’t a help to me. I’ve only really gotten over previous women in my life through having romantic distractions. The obvious answer would be to just go out and meet people, but I have to admit to being rather short on the time and money front. It’s also not the biggest boost to your confidence when girls who are supposedly your friends tell you you’re a pervert, have no charm, and are intimidating to women. Add to this a tendency to be attracted to girls who treat me like shit, and I begin to wonder if I might be as well just fucking off to the mountains with a horse and a yurt.

My deepest wish, really, is for the libidinous part of my nature just to disappear. If I could cut it out like a tumour, I would. Before I discovered the opposite sex I was mostly happy, directed most of my waking thoughts to flights of useful creativity, and didn’t feel a permanent sense of near worthlessness. I can’t say I see any benefits to a set of desires that mostly seem to end with me having the literary equivalent of an undignified tantrum in the early hours of the morning. Can you?


~ by Scary Rob on 5 January, 2011.

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