It’s going to be a fast and fucked up week. I’m working twelve hour days every day from now until Sunday. Then one day off and then another three days on and then I’m going to my other brother’s graduation and then I’m going to a Tool concert.
I stopped meditating about two or three weeks ago, whenever Morgan showed up, because it’s hard to meditate in a house with two bedrooms, four people, and three cats. I think I noticed a difference. In any case everything seems more awful than before.
I stopped working out, too, on May 7.
I’m at work looking all fucked up, just wanting a drink and shit. I been drinking a lot at work. The girl I’m obsessed with only works one day a week any more, so getting through the work day is fucking difficult. I’m not even obsessed with her any more because I don’t see her. Out of sight, out of my mind, and all of that, to an extent. I’ve a lot of experience cutting people out of my life. Just moving on. Usually physically moving. Why let anyone get close? Just someone else I’m going to have to hide from.
But you know, I talked to the girl about the whole thing and she made me realize that, while we were playing perhaps dangerously close to a cliff, neither of us had done anything actually wrong. Well, I suppose I had done something wrong by not talking to Molly about the fact that I was falling in love with another woman, but you know what, we don’t even have time to talk these days. She works sixty hours a week now and she works during the day and I work during the night. That’s why I need a new job, you know, so we can see each other.
But anyways like I was saying, here I was all beating myself up about shit, because I was in love with this girl, but I remembered you can’t control how you feel, you can control how you act. I was all thinking in my head that we’re in some kind of sexually charged dance, me and this girl, and that was some kind of sin. Probably because as a super Christian back in the day, the only relationships I could have with girls were exactly this. I would have called this girl my girlfriend back in the day because we smiled at each other a lot and were both into each other. That doesn’t constitute a fucking girlfriend, for fuck’s sake. But there it was, hanging around on the back shelves of my mind, this whole box of bullshit about what a girlfriend is. That’s fucking dumb. No wonder I don’t have a healthy relationship with my wife, I don’t even know what a wife is!
I’m like a fucking guilt factory. Churning out the guilt. Like a fucking goat produces shit. What does a goat need to produce shit? Any fucking thing. A shoe. A fucking heirloom tomato. A bag of dicks.
You know why I’m a fucking guilt factory? A fucking super high efficiency guilt machine? I would have told you it was my parents. I would have told you it was Jesus Christ and the motherfucking bible. But you know why it’s fucking lying that’s why. Weak character, brought on by having no stressors. Only one artificial stressor, maintaining the fucking lie, man, is what.
Say I was to fall in love with this woman. I tell Molly about it and what does she say? Who fucking knows. Maybe we have a long talk about how we don’t fucking talk any more or have enough sex, maybe we modify our relationship, maybe we decide fuck it, I like you as a partner in life, I don’t give a shit about your emotions. Maybe we decide not to act on anything for now, because we’re both busy being broke as fuck, and put that shit on ice for a year, and if nothing changes, then we got to make some decisions. Who knows what the fuck we could even decide because we would both be strong people who knew each other, instead of me being some kind of weak ass bitch fucking creeping around like a depressed little crab.
Why do I curse so much? People asked me sometimes. Probably because I’m fucking angry all the time way down where I can’t even hear myself any more because I built this huge guilt machine to manufacture fucking lies all day to keep me from ever having to experience anything real.
Yeah, so anyway. Me and this girl are just chilling now. It’s not even a big fucking deal. I build it up like its a fucking world changing event, me liking this girl, and really it’s just that she’s super awesome and super hot and she’s attracted to me. Why does that have to be a big deal? Because I’m scared of myself because I don’t even know who I am, that’s why! Is that Molly’s fault? Is that Christianity’s fault? Is that Society’s mother fuckin fault? Is that my parents fault? Nah mother fuckers that’s my fault for lying my ass of for no reason all my life.
Oh shit now I’m going to feel guilty about that!
Haha nah I mean I could, but guilt doesn’t come from taking responsibility for your actions. Guilt, at least the kind I feel, the destructive kind, comes from a kind of self-censorship who’s aim is to keep you down, crammed down inside of a fucking shell so that people will accept you without any effort on their part or your part.
Unlike dumbass indulgent guilt that comes from overthinking and lying to yourself, taking responsibility for your actions empowers you.
Yeah so anyway I meditated and worked out today.