1:06 a.m. - March 17, 2003
One of those thoughts, meandering, repetitious, thoroughly unimpressive
I wonder what happens to men like me later on in life. I think loners shrivel up and dessicate, become the eccentric loonies down the street children avoid and dogs chase, become the bitter and lonely.
I'm already bitter and lonely and I'm 27. I've always been an overachiever.
I tell myself to take chances and I make a pretense of opening up replete with hollow fanfare and little substance to accompany the hoopla and I'd like to think the masses are fooled but that's unlikely. I do want to open up - I feel it is less a desire than an abject need - yet when I reveal the most innocuous of things the alarms peal and it's time to call it a day. Offending remarks are What do you do for a living? and I quit the game immediately if somebody brings up sex and in this online world, that seems to be a fairly standard protocol. I'd like to not give a fuck but you know, as much as I disdain people and shrug it off, every contact leaves a dent and my armor is falling apart. I feel like I'm falling apart and can I confess, when I read about schizophrenic or other psychotic breaks I worry because the typical scenarios are over-achieving perfectionists with tons o' baggage who simply cave in; I'm neither a hypocondriac or histrionic, but I worry. I worry because I feel like the boy with the thumb in the dike, needing to run around and save what I can, shore up the weak spots. And it's not working. My schema is failing me and I'm terrified. I sense the craving for a new diversion and this time, it's law school. I know, I know. But as with all standardized tests, I aced the LSATs before and could reprise the score without doubt. It is a hollow thought, no more substantial than anything else I've done to date.
I've been chatting online with a guy who seemed geunine - see already, that ever-present suspicion? - and I liked and looked forward to our conversations. Then one night he said I'm quite good at pushing people away and poof! he was gone and it isn't the fact that he had the last word that bothers me. I let someone in a step or two, then don't stop pushing until he or she is a half mile away. How to get a grip on this? I'm floundering and I feel everything is slipping through my fingers.
And Spec and these emotions best kept ignored that roil and burn. I know I am a fool and I also know I'm caught up in his manipulative schemes, I know why and how I yielded to him and I'm paying the consequences. He broke down all my defenses and can do as he pleases and I stand by and watch it all happen. You know, he didn't ask about the weekend; he said I arrive in San Jose on Friday, pick me up. I leave Sunday and I said Okay. And I said okay knowing we will fight, knowing he will hit me again and it is maddening. The last time he was here he hit me but I didn't want to write about it, didn't want to acknowledge my poor judgment and entertain a thousand I told you so's. I ruminate and wonder how my life has come to this point instead of seeking ways to reverse the fall and frankly, I'm too tired to run. And if I can't run, I'm shell-shocked and that's me under the moss.
To be honest, I want Spec with me this weekend. I want him to give me a boost and I realize how needy this is, how unhealthy, how misguided. I want to cuddle and for him to hug me; that's what I want most. I want a hug from somebody who really knows me - and there aren't many out there. And at the same time I'm worried, very worried, because he's angry with me and I know this. Just don't let him in, right? I would rather have all this hurt than not, because at least I hurt and it is a relief to know at least one person made it inside.
It is one of those nights.
