Lonely

I closed my dating profile again… It’s just too depressing to deal with. The people that talk to me are poor conversationalists at best, and no one is attractive. I would literally kill another human being if it meant I could find someone attractive. It’s been so long since I found anyone except like Rihanna attractive. That is problematic because she’s not a real person… Celebrity crushes mean nothing.

I don’t usually put a lot stock into whether I find someone attractive, because it’s at the bottom of my requirements list. I can list unattractive people for all kinds of reasons, but after my most recent sexual encounter (which you can read about here if you’re interested) I’d really like to have some physical interest in the next person I have sex with… and preferably sooner than over a year from now.

I’ve considered that my plan to move to Oregon means that I probably shouldn’t be looking for anyone, anyways… cuz who wants a fling with a set time limit? That’s not even fun and spontaneous. I am just so incredibly lonely all the time. I spend weekends alone or with my mom at this point… I don’t really talk to anyone… It’s sad. It’s really fucking sad.

I can hear people saying, “go do things you like and meet people!” Here’s the thing. Even when I go do things alone, which I’ve been known to do, I don’t meet anyone. I dunno if I look menacing, or like a scared animal, or if people just legit don’t talk to people they don’t know… but I never leave an event with new friends. I leave trying to smile because I did a thing, but still feeling kinda lonely. I’ve tried initiating conversations at events, and it always feels like people just run away from me.

I’ve tried MeetUp, because that’s supposed to be a social thing where you’re expected to meet new people… and I tend to fade into the background of people because I become inexplicably shy, OR in one instance I was asked not to return (introverts are mean too, apparently, and I was too social for them) OR in one instance I showed up to an event and it was all people over 50 who berated me for being there, because people under 50 apparently shouldn’t need help meeting people.

I’ve tried to arrange plans with a friend, and it just goes by the wayside. I’ve tried to find events to go to, even if I don’t meet anyone, but it’s so hard to go to things when you know you’re gonna wander around alone and not have anyone to talk to.

I could use a friend. I thought a significant other would be easier, cuz people are ALWAYS looking for one of those, but people are so incredibly boring. Myself included.

Me: Book worm, comic nerd, horror junkie that likes live music and tacos, and who games once in a while.

Everyone else: Likes hiking, biking, and camping OR Plays video games and doesn’t leave the house OR Doesn’t have a job

There’s someone for everyone if you lower your standards low enough… but I’m at the minimum here… Job, address, car, and interesting. If I get lower standards than that I could just as easily pickup a homeless guy and just bring him home (which I’ve done on accident, but never on purpose).

It’s just not fair. I don’t want happily ever after; I just want someone to go to the movies with.

Ah well.

I’m starting a new eating directive this week and I’m hoping to go home and work on purging or the backyard or something half-ass productive. Maybe clean some stuff… I’m trying to spend less time at home doing nothing… cuz the nothing gets to me.

We’ll see how it goes, I guess.

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Fucked Up Dream Time

So, at 3am I posted another entry about how my meds are going and how this med is definitely doing weird stuff to my dreams. Then I went back to sleep… and now I want to tell you about my disturbing ass dreams, and why I hate taking antipsychotics.

Last time I took antipsychotics, Risperdol gave me horrifying nightmares that I can’t even remember. I would just wake up screaming. This time, I don’t know if these are nightmares, but they are… unsettling at best.

I’m in a school, but it’s built like a lodge in the mountains. We are surrounded by trees and a cable car runs from a platform on our second floor. There are other, similar buildings in the area, and we are all part of the same school I know this, but it’s not said. There are people there. Some are teen aged, some are college aged, and there is a smattering of actual adults. I am one of these adults, and we seem to be in charge.



There is a siren, and I rush everyone inside. “The hole is coming,” I say. It’s not as catchy as “The Nothing” or “The Darkness” or even “The Mist / Fog” but I get everyone inside and I’m aware that I’m scared. There are more people in our building than seem to lodge there, and so I clear a space to setup sleeping bags and start dismantling furniture into firewood. I seem to know that it’s going to be a long time before things will ever be normal again.



Enter, the random apparition of my exboyfriend invading my dreamscape. This particular ex is the one that I can never forgive. The one that I blame for many of my personality changes from “sweet, nice girl” to… whatever you call this cynical, sarcastic shell of a human being. I don’t know why he’s there, not even in the dream, and I still hate him when he gives me that smile that I remember adoring. I’m stuck with him, though. That much is clear.



So, I make the best of having someone I know around. He’s still himself, though, and while I’m trying to put all the sharp objects in the house where no one can get to them, he’s hoarding them by his sleeping bag. I have to explain to him what’s going on… which is handy since I don’t actually know until dream-me says it.



“What’s coming is the hole, and when it gets here everyone is going to lose themselves.” I’m gathering up a number of knives with my bare hands, managing to cut myself on an obsidian blade that he has for some reason. “The hole takes away feeling. There’s nothing. People don’t become depressed, they just feel nothing. They’ll kill themselves, and god knows what else they might do.” He’s rolling his eyes, and dream-me thinks he must assume that what’s coming is just a storm. I look him in the eyes and say, “What would you do to feel something, Mike?” He stops rolling his eyes, and he looks almost concerned. Almost. He lets me take the knives anyways, and I hide them in a wall, in a closet, somewhere in the bowels of the lodge.



Time goes on. It’s like a montage. I’m aware of the passage of time and glimpses into things that happened. It began to snow, and never stopped, though it’s not snowing particularly heavily. We ran out of food and had to start sending parties out into the snow to try and find animals or vegetation; they would come back a little less of themselves every time. For whatever reason I cannot begin to understand, I start sleeping next to my ex. I might hate him, but I guess in this weird time he makes me feel safe. Then one day he goes out on a foraging mission, and never comes back. Slowly less and less people come back from foraging, until it’s just me and a handful of students left. We never find the bodies.



We are out on a mission, having followed the cables from the inactive cable car up to a station. We are cresting a tall climb to the platform when we hear people. Some of the party get excited and run toward the noise, while I try to hold people back. The hole has come and it will have its sacrifices. Those at the top of the hill stop suddenly… some backup, some don’t move at all. When I reach the summit I can see why. There are people: people I know: people from our party; and they are laughing. Their laughter is hollow, like the laughter one produces when they are expected to laugh, but nothing is funny. Then the laughter turns to sobs, but those, too, sound wrong in every way. There’s no heart in it. They are stripping the skin off of one of my students, who’s hanging from the overhead cable.



I backup slowly, shock filling me with cold, and I slip. I tumble down the platform, the sound of my body hitting the rocky terrain alerting those skinning the student. They come after me. There’s a small chase before I lose them. I am alone. I don’t know where everyone else went, so I return to the lodge. No one is there. It’s empty and cold, and I’m terrified. I go to sleep in the middle of the sleeping bags. I cry.



I jump awake at the sudden feeling of someone breathing on my feet. It’s a man. I recognize his face, but it’s been painted black and I cannot place him. Only his white eyes and teeth are visible to me in the darkness. He’s grinning at me, but it’s not a real grin, for there is no mirth in it, not even the cruel joy of a killer. It’s just been stuck there on his face, like someone taped it there. I inch away from his dead, wide eyes, and to my surprise he does not follow me. He just stays, staring at me with his teeth bared, almost into a snarl. His eyes follow me, but he does not move, and I manage to escape the room.



I can hear people in the house. I am scared. I don’t know what to do.



I end up in the closet where I’ve hidden the knives, but there’s only one there and I grab it by the blade. It’s a black knife… it’s an obsidian hunting knife. I cut myself pretty bad, and stifle a yelp of pain. I have to get out of the closet, I know that, but there’s nowhere to go. I end up leaving the closet and having to hide myself in a window box that someone has been using for a bed. I jam the knife into the wood at an angle that I don’t think would work in real life, but manages to keep the lid closed in the dream. No one finds me, but I also don’t have a way out. Day after day I listen to frightened screams, false laughter, and faux tears. I try to leave my hiding place, but I can’t get the lid open, even after I pull the knife out. I don’t get any omniscient insight as to why. I just get a montage of days, as I lie awake in the box, crying, scared, and slowly dying of thirst and hunger.

The dream ends with my shriveled up corpse laying in the box. My face is contorted into an unnatural scream, but I know that’s probably just because of the way I was laying when I died. All I thought was, “wow, I look so thin.”



Antipsychotic dreams are… well… psychotic. I hate antipsychotic dreams because while they are often outlandish and unrealistic, they always hint at things you’re actually thinking about. It’s like the subroutine your brain runs all the time never shuts off like it used to, and those thoughts you don’t really remember thinking just invade your dreams like it’s Normandy. This one hits especially close to home, since whatever was happening stripped everyone of emotions. Obviously they retained something, though, since they continuously tried to feel something. Longing… is longing an emotion?

I have been struggling with my new and ever shrinking emotional range. While I was used to feeling all of three emotions, I felt those emotions much strong than I feel any of these new, wider ranging ones. I felt Euphoria, Rage, and Despair with all the bitter, painful fire of passion. I felt them to my core. Now I feel… less. I’m not despairing, but sometimes I’m sad, or just not happy. I don’t rage, but sometimes I’m mad or a little irritated. I don’t get lost in the intense feelings of euphoria, but sometimes I smile… so I guess that’s happiness? It’s a hard transition that only people with a mood disorder really “get.” How do you explain to yourself that feeling less is how you’re supposed to feel? While the emotions might be more complex, like ambivalence is a new one I’ve been feeling a lot, the feelings are so much less. There’s no passion behind them… it’s so muted… like a Giorgio Morandi still life…

the other things that REALLY bothered me, was that exboyfriend. Why, of all the exes I have, did it have to be that one? And then he goes off and gets killed or something and I’m all alone and I MISS HIM. That’s fucked up, brain…. I know we’re lonely, but we aren’t THAT lonely.

Anyways, I’ve been dealing with the psychological aftermath of THAT all morning… It’s not a great way to wake up… but I definitely didn’t want to continue sleeping…

Idk… Fuck.

I went on a date last night. Last minute thing, but I’ve been talking to a guy for like a week and he asked to buy me a drink.

He’s not a really hot guy, but he’s an interesting nerd. I’m all about interesting nerds, you know. In particular, he like to RPG. That’s cool, cuz I always wanted to learn D&D stuff. Remember the robot boy that was supposed to teach me? I’m totes down to become more nerd.

Anyways, long story short, we hung out for like three hours and than I took him back to his apt, cuz it was close by and he ubered there. I was confused because not once did he touch me. No hand shake, no attempted kiss or hug… and I wasn’t sure if he didn’t like me or if he’s just hella respectful.

So I sent him https://inspirobot.me today, because errybawdie needs that in their life, and he takes that opportunity to explain that he’s in a long distance relationship with a girl who will be moving out her to him as soon as she can, but in the meantime they have an open relationship.

I’m not devastated, but I’m mad.

I wasn’t in love or anything, but I would kind of like to have sex again before I die… I don’t do poly, so that’s not a thing that’s going to happen. At the same time, I’m trying really hard not to be TOO mad, because I could use a new friend who’s interesting… but we met under such false pretense, and now I’m mad.

I know I’m asexual and aromantic, but like… I’m lonely and I’d like to have sex. I’m getting too close to 30 to be the girl that gets wasted and goes home with a stranger… but no one really wants to date me. I’m discouraged. I’m pissed off. I’m generally unhappy about all of this.

What’s wrong with me?

Being Nice Is Abysmal

I don’t know why, but I end up in a lot of one-sided relationships.

For the most part, I don’t mean romantic relationships, especially since I haven’t had one of those since 2012, but platonic relationships: friendships, in particular.

I guess it’s because, in spite of my very best efforts, I’m a nice person. Literally,

I am the kind of person that will bend over backwards to try and make everything okay. Even if we aren’t close, even if we haven’t spoken in a while: if you are distressed, I will go out of my way to brighten your fucking day. It’s a shitty thing to be, honestly, because people definitely try to take advantage of it. I like to think it’s unintentional, but I’m pretty sure that’s just that niceness in me trying to sugar coat the truth of people being shit and taking advantage of nice people.

​One of the best examples of this is that when I was in my senior year of high school (I think) my best friend stopped talking to me. Not just to me, in fact, he stopped talking to everyone and totally dove head first into a terribly unhealthy relationship. It wasn’t really an uncommon thing, for my friends to totally abandon everyone else when they got into a relationship, but it hurt my feelings. This came after years of me tearing my hair out while trying to accommodate him and be the very best friend, ever. I was miffed. I was hurt. I was depressed and tormented over it… and one day there he was, parked outside my mother’s house crying. I didn’t even think twice about getting in his car and going somewhere with him so he could tell me what happened with his boyfriend, playing the ever sympathetic, ever reliable friend that I ever was.

I don’t really regret that day. I’d missed my friend, and everyone makes mistakes. Still, I can’t tell you why I was so ready to forgive. I’d spent all of high school trying to make this kid like me. He was the first person in high school to talk to me. I tried so hard to conform, to like what he did, to be a person that he’d want to keep around. I literally spent time crying when he’d bail on me for someone else, and he’d just thrown my friendship out like an old milk carton because a guy had come along. When push came to shove, though, I wanted him to be my friend more than I was bitter. One thing about me, though… I forgive, but I never forget. He ended up moving away and growing up to be a very important person. He’s happy. He’s happier than I ever remember him being. As much as I’d like to hold a grudge about the way I perceived myself to be treated, I let him treat me that way. I was a different person then… but we’re still friends.

Then there was the one person I fell for. She was insecure, unsure, and always second guessing herself, but she was also the sweetest, kindest person you could hope to meet. I grew really attached to her. To be honest, I think I was in love with her. I didn’t do anything about it, because she’s straight, but I cared about her more than anyone I’ve ever bothered to date. Over time, though, she grew away from me. She got wrapped up in some stuff, and with some people I just didn’t care for. I kept trying to keep her close, anyway. I tried to date someone similar to who she was hanging out with as proof that I was totally cool with everything. That blew up in my face, but not before she completely abandoned me because the guy she was dating didn’t care for my presence…

I’d like to be mad about that one, and for a few years, I definitely was. I was tormented over it. I didn’t understand what had happened, and I felt totally alone in the world. It took a while to realize that what I had previously provided her with, which was a lot of reassurance, affection, and security, was better coming from a man. She wanted to get married and have a family, and no matter how good of a friend I was to her, and no matter how much I loved her, I was never going to provide her with that. No, as much as I wanted to be angry that she deserted me, I can’t be mad about that. I’m still sad that my years of support essentially boiled down to nothing. I’m still hurt that even though I was ready to make every exception to every rule to be the person she needed to be, that I would never be that person. I still wish things were different… but through various methods of stalking, I know she got married, and that she had a beautiful little boy, and last time I checked she seemed very happy. I cannot fault her for pursuing happiness, even if I wasn’t part of that equation.

Somewhere in there were the Trixie chronicles. I was seventeen, she was twenty-something, and we had a lot of adventures. Somehow it was always about her, though. Her life was always on the verge of falling apart. There was the abusive boyfriend, who was my boyfriend’s roomie. There was her crazy mother. There was her ex-husband, who never really understood how to be a divorced dad. There were the various minions she collected, some other boyfriends she didn’t really seem to like… All that time, I was happy to follow her around like a puppy. I was having a complete crisis in my own life, but her adventures were a welcome distraction, until Mr. Man showed up. He was a friend of a friend of mine from high school, and she fell for him so hard… and… once again someone I needed no longer needed me.

I can’t really be mad about that one, either. Yeah, it sucked to drift away from each other, but she was so happy. Also, I had some shit of my own that I’d been avoiding dealing with. It was really unfortunate to hear that they ended up not working out. He packed up and left over Christmas last year. I don’t really know what happened, but I couldn’t go back to being her sidekick. I think she was disappointed by that.

There were, of course, the Bird & Mouse adventures. Bird was great to hang out with. She liked me. We’d go out and do stuff we both liked… I got tired of things with Bird, though. I got tired of her being late. I got tired of her trying to talk to me about her weight when I weight like twice as much as her. I got tired of being out with her and everyone looking at her, instead of me. (Yeah, I resent the girl for being pretty. I’m only human.) I got tired of her hearing about her parents, and this guy she was seeing, and how everything was so dramatic.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re still friends, but with a healthy amount of space. I’d grown too much to be the person she wanted me to be. I wasn’t her sidekick. I didn’t have the patience for everything to be a trauma… and god damn it, I’m punctual. I stopped offering for us to ride together. I stopped asking to hang out, using my dogs or my job as an excuse to dodge most of her requests… and I let us grow apart.

I find myself in another one-sided friendship… My friend is nice enough, but somehow I allowed our friendship to be based around my being part of his support system. He was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Mood Disorder after an unfortunate suicide attempt. I didn’t mind being around for to start with, seeing as how I’ve been diagnosed bipolar for years, but we’re at a point where I’m irritated with him.

A, He lets his Bipolar run his life.

I know that meds will wreck you and that moods are unpredictable. I live that shit. A while ago, however, I had to say fuck it to letting life get hung up on my bipolar. I FORCE myself to be a normal person. I don’t call in when I’m too sad to get out of bed… I roll myself onto the floor and cry all the way to the shower, followed by getting dressed, pushing all my emotions into a tight little ball that will one day give me cancer, and go to work. I don’t do meds anymore because they wrecked my life and I had to take the initiative to do what was best for me to function. If you’re going to be on meds and you’re unsure how they will react, you do start them on a day when YOU DON’T HAVE TO GET UP IN MORNING. That’s common sense.

2, He’s what my other gay friend call A-Gay. All he knows is gay. He’s not gay, but a gamer. He’s not gay, but something else. He’s JUST gay. And that’s fine… but it’s boring. I really signed on for more than just a friend who JUST gay… RuPaul’s Drag Race is great, but I’m not a gay man. I don’t care about going to gay bars and using the identity of a gay man as an excuse to not know basic pop culture references, just because they aren’t about gay men is kind of irritating… like… be multifaceted.

D, He’s not coping well. I don’t understand people who want to get wrecked every fucking day. More so, I don’t understand people who get wrecked when they have company. You want to have a drink? Let’s have a drink. You wanna get twisted every Friday when I come over to see you? Nah, bro. You’re boring.

So we do very little in the way of things I want to do…. and I’m just fucking over it, to be honest. I’m tired of people expecting me to do what they want and no one ever wanting to join me for things I want to do.

Years ago I did everything alone, because no one wanted to do the things I wanted to do. Then for a while I’d made some friends that were already at the things I wanted to do… but they’ve all filtered out now… and I’m back to wanting to do shit and having NO ONE to do it with… As much as I’m dreading it, I guess I’m going to have to do shit on my own again… which I hate, because I’m not good at talking to strangers. I’m not good at making new friends. I’m especially bad at feeling comfortable somewhere alone. But what else am I going to do? Sit on my friend’s sofa and watch him get wrecked every Friday until I die? Sit in my house and binge watch Netflix every evening till I die?

No… I guess I’m going have to fucking enjoy life alone…

This. This is the only reason I want a relationship. I want someone who is obligated to come to a thing with me. I’ll go to their things, too. I like doing new shit. But my life would be better with someone to share it with… friend, lover… someone besides my dogs, since I can’t take them to concerts and clubs with me…

I’M SO FUCKING TIRED OF BEING LONELY, EVEN WHEN PEOPLE ARE IN MY LIFE

Another Let Down

I have determined, through much experimentation, that my main problem when it comes to dating is that I refuse to beg for attention. My information on this front is purely anecdotal, obviously, but it would seem that men (and women, tbh) find my lack of need for attention to be off-putting. And so, my dear readers, I am once again just going to give up trying to date… cuz I’m not good at it, apparently.

I can’t argue against the fact that when you get to know me I’m fairly cold, calculating, and operate much like a computer simulated personality. To start with, I document and log information you give me so as to determine the “correct” response to whatever you’re talking to me about. I’ve been known to do research on things so as to better acclimate myself to being associated with people. Most of my responses at the beginning of a social interaction are artificial. I’m very much fake, and I know that. Still, it takes time to notice, if you even notice ALL of that. Once you get to know me, if that isn’t enough to make you turn tail and run, I will tone it down and be more myself, but part of being myself is also being slightly fake anyways. People who’ve known me for a long time might know this without putting a name to it, but it’s just something people adapt to or run from. I can’t help it. I’m incapable of natural interaction.

Dating is weird, though. Everyone seems to want you to crave them like heroin. I’m not that kind of person. I’m totally fine with not talking to someone everyday. I have my own life and it doesn’t have some gaping hole in it because I’m alone. I guess it’s uncommon for a person to be totally whole and complete by themselves? That sounds condescending as shit, but the successful relationships I witness aren’t two totally complete people that happen to like associating, they’re two people that seem to need each other. Once they don’t need each other anymore they fall apart; there’s no room for the other person anymore. By that logic, I don’t have room in my life for another person… and maybe I don’t but I would never know, since no one gives me a chance to make the room.

I got a phone number of a guy two weekends ago. Bird and I were at a show, and this guy was funny, seemed nice, and I ended up getting his number because he asked for mine. Well, I hadn’t heard from him by Wednesday, and I like to make plans. So, I hit him up, because I’m a strong, independent woman and don’t need no man to make the first move. The conversation was nice enough, and drug out over two days, but he didn’t ask to see me and I haven’t heard from him since. I debated texting him again… but if he wanted to talk to me, I feel like he would. I’m not going to beg for attention. I have shit to do. I’m just irritated because if he were to ask me on a date, I’d like to have the time left open for him, but my weekends fill up pretty quick. If you’re not on the schedule, you don’t get to see me.

Based on all this info, I’m just going to forget that I got his number. I don’t have the patience to wait on him…

Also… it kind of hurts my feelings. I was excited that someone in really real life had picked me out to have interest in. I was excited to get to know someone knew. I was excited to maybe get laid. I was just excited for things to be different and interesting. I’m asexual and aromantic, but I’m not dead. I could use someone new in my life… We didn’t seem to have a lot in common, but we could have. I could have learned some new stuff and developed some new hobby. That’s what I like about new people in my life… It’s a chance to expand with purpose, not just for the sake of being the smartest person in the room.

I hate when I do this to myself…
I get my hopes up for something new and fun and different before it’s certain that it’s even going to be a thing… but then I feel like when I’m not excited about something new I end up wrecking it by NOT being excited…

So I dunno how I’m supposed to feel…

But mostly I feel disappointed.

Got Hack; Still Feeling Lonely

So earlier this month my Spotify account got hacked.
Of all the accounts someone could have hacked… I guess I got lucky.
::knock on wood::

It was really weird, cuz I went to listen to something and my app said I was listening to music from a Vaio. I haven’t owned a Vaio in YEARS (like 2 laptops ago, and I keep laptops until they die horrible, painful deaths). What was WEIRDER is that I was supposedly listening to some guy that sings in French. While it’s not beyond me to listen to foreign music, as my many German, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish speaking playlists exemplify, I’ve never listened to anyone French except this chick who sings in English with a thick French accent: I’ll Kill Her – Soko

So, there’s a handy “Log Out Of Everywhere” feature on the Spotify site, and I queued that up from my phone, since I was at work, and knocked the person out… Just for them to get back in and try again. I find that hella frustrating. What I found completely unacceptable and fucked, however, was that they DELETED ALL OF MY PLAYLISTS. Now, I know that if you delete a playlist, Spotify saves them for like a year and you can go into the Spotify site and resurrect them, but at the time, all I knew is that all my music, that I spent YEARS putting into playlists that correlated with feelings and purpose and shit, was gone. I’m extraordinarily sentimental for a heartless Android Girl, so I just FREAKED OUT.

Spotify, to their credit, was very helpful. They first confirmed that I was the account owner, since I have Premium, and then locked the whole account. They had me make a new account, and dropped in all of my playlists and music library, as well as migrating my followers, and for my trouble they gave me a month of Premium for free. So, it was a stressful couple of days while I waited for them to get everything sorted, but in the end they did a great job at customer service.

The couple of things they couldn’t move, though, were my Daily Mixes and my radio stations. Kind of good and bad. I’d accidentally removed System of a Down from my rock/metal Daily Mix, and I’d hemmed in my Marilyn Manson radio so far down that it almost exclusively played Mason. Lol. So, I’ve been trying to build those back up, but it’s been slow. I finally got a couple of Daily Mixes today, though. I have an emo/rock station, which amused me endlessly, and a kpop station. Lol. That says so much about my personality that I never wanted anyone to know. 😛

I’m using this block quote as a page break.

In unrelated news, I’m still sad and lonely.

Depression is weird. I feel like I want to be around 100 people and socialize and laugh and maybe get wicked drunk, but if anyone wants to do anything with me I immediately want to find a reason not to see them. Like I want to be around people, but I don’t want to go to anyone’s house, or wherever they are going for the evening, or to the car show which I invited David 2 to… like…I don’t know why my feelings are like that. How can you crave people, but hate the idea of leaving your house? It doesn’t even make sense.

On a more comical note, after all that bullshit with Kaiser where I ended cancelling that psychiatric nurse phone call and just making an appt with my normal, off-Kaiser physician (see 2 posts back), the Kaiser mental health facility that I had called keeps calling me. I don’t answer, because phone calls are for psychopaths (and I am a sociopath, thank you), and I’ve noticed that the calls are getting more concerned as time goes on.

Voicemail 1: “Hello, this is ___________ with Kaiser Mental Health. We received your referral from a psychiatric nurse phone call earlier this week, and we were calling to schedule you for services. Please call us back at (phone number withheld).”



Voicemail 2: “Hello, this is ___________ with Kaiser Mental Health.We received your referral from a psychiatric nurse phone call on Monday, and we have not heard back from you on scheduling services. Please give us a call back at (phone number withheld) at your earliest convenience.”



Voicemail 3: “Hello, this is ___________ with Kaiser Mental Health.We received a referral for you last week, and we haven’t been able to contact you to schedules any services. Please give us a call back at (phone number withheld) at your earliest convenience, and ask for the triage unit.”



Voicemail 4 (today): “Hello, this is ___________ with Kaiser Mental Health. We’ve been trying to contact you in reference to a referral phone call you made last week. Please call us back at (phone number withheld) to speak with the triage unit about scheduling services. I hope you’re doing well. Thank you.”



That last girl sounded real concerned no one has heard from me in a week. Lol. I know it’s not nice to enjoy someone’s concern, but I really do. After going rounds with them just to find out that they couldn’t do anything for me until mid-May anyways, it definitely felt like they could give a shit. So, I’m enjoying the increasing concern. Tonight I’ll figure out how to email them and let them know that I’ve sought care elsewhere, but in the meantime it’s hilarious.

But yeah… that’s where I’m at… trying to alienate myself from everyone, while also aching to be around them.

Meh.

My Discover Weekly is getting back to dropping me music I’m interested in. Here’s this week’s winner. Present Past Future by Beware of Darkness.

Well I haven’t heard from the Robot Boy in four days. And even then, I only heard from him sparingly. It’s really okay, though. I don’t have time for a real significant other, and I get the feeling that we have different expectations for what a significant other does. I’m not opposed to friends, but I think I’m done pursuing that as relationship potential. It just ends up feeling burdensome anyways… Rather be alone.

Thanksgiving has come and gone. It was fine. We did steak and shrimp… and did nothing. Lol. We never do anything for holidays, and honestly… I like that about is. I hear about these holidays where families get together and everything is so formal or has to be some kind of way, and they do family pictures and people fight and cry, and it just sounds EXHAUSTING. I’ll take our snacking and movie watching day over an actual family gathering any day of the week.

Here’s another song I’m obsessed with.

I wish I had something interesting to report, but I don’t. I’ve dodged the social engagements I was actually invited to, and generally I spend all my time alone. I’ve been trying to get back into crafting and stuff, but it’s slow goings to recover from my hiatus. I’m tired and I’ve been really depressed. And I’m FUCKING TIRED OF BEING DEPRESSED.

What really gets to me is that no one seems to have really noticed. Maybe that’s normal American etiquette. Maybe I’ve been really good at not being conspicuous about my withdrawal. I just default to thinking that no one really cares whether I’m around. Maybe that’s true. Maybe not. I don’t know.

I just know that right now I’m lonely, and the lonelier I get, the more antisocial I get.
It’s a vicious cycle.

Hopefully tonight I can log some Pokemon Sun time… That would be nice.