Antitrust

Women are intolerable ! Actually need them and they are nowhere to be found, but decide to go through your personal shit yourself without anyone's aid and suddenly they all care and worry and insist and push... aaaaagh !

In all that I've been writing here lately, note that I'm sincere and yet, well, not. I'm writing down some of what's coarsing through me, because I need to vent some of it and also want to keep a record of all these feelings. But it's all feelings coming from the mess I'm working through, and not how I actually feel about things. It's like there's a 'front side' emotion which is now almost completely clogged up with all the mess, and there's a 'back side' emotion which keeps me in touch with the bigger picture of things, so to speak. With the way I feel about people and things in my life, in the broader scheme of things. But I do occasionally need to vent. God, do I ever.

The Bigger Picture Me knows what the Front Side Me is doing, whereas the latter in itself really doesn't. It's like trees in the forest - each tree knows it's a tree but only a distant observer can see the bunch of them together as a forest. If that makes sense. To people less familiar with Dutch sayings.
I know, in that broader sense, what most of the more angry, frustrated, even violent thoughts and feelings of late, especially about women who show care right now, is about. It's about trust. I am currently unable to trust. The stuff I've sunk my teeth in is currently pretty damn rough and leaves a whole array of soft underbellies exposed, and I don't want anyone butting in at this vulnerable time. Or, well, part of me does want someone to take advantage of the hard shell having fallen off for a moment, but it's all fear and self protection. And the additional fear of what my self protection mechanisms might do to the friendships with the people who are butting in on my mess. Because I'm very, very liable to lash out, and with my father's side of the family's insight into people's personality, I'll be lashing out with a very sharp blade and will definately do some real damage to intruders. I don't want to. I want to come out of this with my world as I know it mostly still intact, and people I like and care about still around to 'come home to'.

So this is *my* mess. I'm getting through it. Bit by bit I'm processing all this. I can feel I'm making progress, and I am also slowly much more aware of the patterns in these feelings and the sources of them. In other words, I'm dealing ok, even though the venting I do here might make me appear like a raving lunatic sometimes. I'll deal, I'll get through this. I don't need anyone, and it's better for everyone AND myself if no one thinks otherwise. So don't butt in. *My* mess. Not yours. I don't trust you, and I don't trust myself. Not right now. In an attempt to further explain the previous post.
It's not just a warning. The fact that it bothers me so much that a few still *do* butt in, is part of all this. So I'm also recording it here. Writing down what I feel. And writing down what sense I can make of it. What further insight I've gained since last post. Because once this is all over, I'll likely be in a very good place again. And, if not for personal reasons, then for creative ones, I will want to be able to tap back into what I've experienced here.

A Thought On Identity.

On a regular day, I'll get up, get out of the house. I'm carrying around my passport because we have an identification law since a while back, which means I'll have to show it if I'm found possibly involved in something that goes against the law. I'll show my buspass with photograph and name to the bus driver so he'll allow me on board. I'll get to the station and use my bank pass and PIN ID so the ATM knows it's me and will give me some of my money. I'll get to work and get out my work security pass - again, with photo - which tells the building I'm allowed inside. I'll log into my PC with a username and a password. Almost all my software requires passwords. The servers I connect to require my password and also check if my PC's IP address is allowed. Some of the sites I visit in and outside my home check my IP and/or cookies. Then there's of course the various sites I maintain, and the various forums I visit - they all require a username and password as well. If I want to get cigarettes in a bar or something, I need a coin that verifies I'm old enough to purchase them. If I have bills to pay, I sign cheques with a signature that says it's me. My cats sniff my hands, clothes, and verify it's me, everytime I go home. And that's just everything I see directly - there's of course countless administrative and other processes behind the screens that pass information about me along, like my social security number, etc.

All day long people, animals and machines all over this country are checking my identity. Nice to know that they at least seem to know who I am, since as of late I'm clearly less sure than they are.

Although I'm not exactly sure where I end and other stuff, other roles, and the rest of the world starts, I know one thing. It kind of bothers me that there's a few people butting in on my problems. They mostly mean well (although at least one I'm suspecting is more meddlesome out of a need to feel good about herself - no one that's currently reading this, though, because she's much too concerned with herself to digitally-stalk me by reading my personal blog posts I think), and it's kind of ungrateful of me, but I know one thing. I'm only writing and talking about my trouble to make a bit more sense of them - for myself. Because it's MY PROBLEMS. MINE. I may not be sure who I am, but I know that *I* own these problems. Don't make them yours. You're not allowed to. I have to go through this myself, and I don't actually require help. Never required it and never will. The pathos and angst and whatnot, that's most likely part of either the emotions on backorder, or of the process of working through them. Back off, get your own emotional mess.

Sweet Bliss of Escapism

Things are still not too easy. And I guess what makes it harder is that it's all a big battle that I don't even want to fight. This reality and myself ? Never been real good friends with it, so to speak. I was always more of an escapist kind of kid, the kind that would draydream in safe little worlds and crazy ideas just to avoid having to exist in reality in any other than the biological sense.
And escapism is just.. so easy. So close, within reach. All the time. The kind of temptation you just can't cold turkey away, because there's no way to distance yourself from it. All I require is a nice, stiff drink, or a few seconds to myself in a not too noisy environment, or a book, a DVD, a comic, a piece of paper and a pen.. it all works.

Over the past week I've come to realise something that I think I've known for a while. That someone who I've been madly, deeply, and impossibly in love with for a very, very long time, has moved out of the picture. Grown in different directions, or perhaps I'm the one that has. In any case, she's the last one that still had a foot in the door. Door's shut now. Closed. Locked. Growing stuck in its hinges, to boot. So why on earth do I even try anymore ? I know this - with every attempt to approach someone, in hope of chasing away the loneliness for a bit, I also know it's really no use. The other person in these situations has no hope of reaching ME. This is just more escapism. Just a little break, a tiny vacation, from being lonely. And it's so damn difficult, because I know that's also why I screw it up. Time and time again. Because I just don't really care. It's too much work. And it won't lead anywhere anyway. And I'll possibly end up hurting someone in the process, which'll be bad for her AND me. So why bother ?
The only answer I can offer myself to this is that I still tend to meet some amazing women from time to time. Recently there's one who manages to surprise me. Again and again. With small things that I just don't see coming. But it's just interest. Wanting to figure it all out a bit better, get to know her. I don't think - despite the girl in question being very attractive - that I want more. Deep down inside I think all I want is that she and others not unlike her will be willing to be around me for a while before they figure out I don't fit. It's a selfish want that takes more work than it could reward, that might end in awkward or even bad stuff, and that I therefor don't even really want. Yet I try. And try again. Semi-sincere attempts that at the same time are halfassed failures. It's all just so hopeless.

I'm unsure if this is how I really feel right now. The figuring out myself part ? Yeah, still working on it. This might very well be another strand of despair that I still had on backorder, so to speak. But it feels very real right now. And it's a bit rough to bear. So I 'm drinking. As I type this. And not doing too many productive things. I'm taking me-time and wasting it. Hoping to either sleep well or get a good buzz on. Because escapism and me, we go way back. Probably the only worthwhile relationship I've ever had. We understand each other and give each other comfort. That's why I'm such a good storyteller, I think. Because I also like to share it. Offer others a bit of escapism. A small break from reality. It's all I want. Just.. a break. Because I can't even look ahead, the way things are going. Not beyond a few months. I have no idea what's going to go down, and I'm living day to day. Because it's all just too much. And what would probably be good for me is if I'd have someone by my side for a bit. Even if she could only offer some moral support. But there's no one. No white knight riding in on her horse and saving the day.
It's all me. I have to do it. But no one is telling me to do it rightaway. So I'm taking every break I can right now. It's about all I can do to not drown in an overwhelming world of future.
Escapism.. keep me company for a while. Pour me another glass. I'll share.