- June 3rd, 2009
... I turned 28. One more than 27, one less than 29, and one giant fucking blur of a year. I honestly forgot about it until I called back a friend who had called me to wish me the ... 'happy' day it was. Which I spent at work. That I always spend at work. A day I haven't really celebrated in any memorable fashion since I graduated from high school back in 2000. All I know is that I've blinked, and a good portion of my life is gone. I have a few things, here and there, odd memories that seem more like distant dreams that I'm watching on a small, old fuzzy TV. All in all, nothing in my life is real. I really have no grip or sense of reality, and I'm such a distant recluse, that... I spend most of my days when I'm not working, bathed in the light from a computer monitor because I either A) Can't afford to go out, B) The few friends I have are too busy to go out, or C) I don't know and/or have a reason/friends to really go out with.
My life is a sad, poor pathetic thing, and granted it can be much worse off than it is (and that's also part of the reason why I don't update this so often, since most days are much the ones that preceded the rest), it's all I can really do with it right now. I have some minor savings for school, I'm still trying to get my financial aid to qualify for local California community colleges, my job is terrible, and my personal life... I haven't been out on a date since... I think when I moved out here three years ago, in August.
I've spent a lot of time wondering why the hell I'm even out here, what reason I could possibly have for putting myself through the suffering I shove onto my shoulders. I'm no Holden Caulfield. There's no one out here that needs me to keep an eye on them. No reason for me being here at all. I'll concede that two of my three best friends in the world are out here, also trying to eek out a living, and having a better go of it then I am. At least I think they are. My third friend, is three thousand miles away, on the opposite side of the country. I remember her begging me on AIM not to move that we'd never talk, but we both knew that wasn't going to happen. I've known her longer than I've known anyone else outside of my family. I have feelings for her that if I could tap into them, could easily solve the world's problem of a clean renewable energy source.
And yet, I'm still out here. I should be there with her, helping her and her family out, making sure she's being taken care of, reassuring her. But I know in my mind, that if I can't help myself, what good would I be doing for her? How healthy of a person would I be, if I was unable to cope and deal with my already bad situation, and wanted to bring her into it? Granted, I will admit she is the only, singular stabilizing force in my life right now. If not for her I... Probably would have done something incredibly, insanely stupid I don't know how many times over. Then I think about her. And how we talk every day. Then I realize I am doing something good after all.
At least that's what I tell myself. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I wake up, I game. I do my thing at home, goto work. I make... 'coffee', for all the uppity self-entitled fucks who live about 7 miles south of Central Downtown San Jose, at a Starbucks Kiosk in a fucking Safeway. I make $9.25 an hour, jumping through hoops with a smile so utterly fake, it would make a pornstar's orgasm look like one of those first round contestants on American Idol. My emotional enthusiasm, banter, and all around charm are the coagulated, moldy and semi-evolved waste byproduct of the maybe two episodes of Leave it to Beaver that I'd ever seen in my life. And all I remember is that kid was a tool. And not like a power tool. No, just a tool. A 1950's stereotypical tool. I bet in the 60 and 70's he got hashed up every night listening to Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. Christ, I don't even want to THINK what the 80's did to that kid, who by then would have been what, in his 40's? Whatever.
The only thing I ever wanted in my life was to be happy, have someone to look after, care for. I like to feel needed. As if I was the second half to someone who wanted to keep me locked tight and close, not afraid to show that side of themselves to world. Because I'd feel the same way, keeping my better half close and cared for. I know I'm not Fabio, or even uh... ... Fuck, I dunno any modern celebrities. Hell, the closest I think I get to is Bruce Willis. Just... not nearly as good looking and without that attitude he has. I'm... kinda closer to that guy who plays JD on Scrubs. Only I'm more of a smart ass. And really couldn't care less what my job is for the rest of my life, so long as while I was off and away from that job, life was good, and that I was making the woman I care about happy. I'd enjoy making her laugh, I think. There's not enough of it in the world... Honest Laughter.
So what is it I'm trying to say here? Well if you've read this far, you probably know as well as I do. I'm 28 years old and I'm far from happy. But at least I'm alive, working, and have a roof over my head. I just can't stand feeling so alone anymore, or distanced, or unemotional. I know there's a timebomb in there ready to go off. I simply want someone to snuff out the fuse.
The only thing I can think to say in closing this is... I just wish I knew how to cry. I want to. I can feel it in there. I'm just not sure how to bring it out.
Thanks for reading. IF you did. I won't blame you for skipping.