Pain

Being sober once in a while is maybe just some form of self-punishment. Auto-mutilation gets you too much unwanted attention (not to mention the hope and fear of getting locked up).
Without that little numbness the pains are so much edgier. The hot, throbbing pain of my joints in the background that flare up once every so often. The sharp, cracking pain of joints going bitsy off when I suddenly move while my muscles are trying to catch up. And then the headaches, the ignorable ones that just drone on and on and on, the big attentionseekers that keep me on the move at all times waiting for me to do nothing to explode inside my head and then the all-consuming ones that make me want to scream or bash my head to bloody pulp against the wall to make it stopstopstopstop. And always, when I least expect it and not ready for it mostly, the pain of knowing never to be good enough, never worth enough.
I lie awake in the dark, lie awake till I see the sun set. And I feel it all. No escape. It's all there. Carved out by the physical pains the sharp outlines of the shell that holds all of me. There are no masks or all masks are me. The insignificance of my existence. I've said that I'm afraid of letting the evil inside me loose. But that's a lie. I can't be evil, I am not important enough (well on the worldscale, what does anyone matter), I'm destructive only. Knowing I will never matter yet want to matter has only one way. Destruction. Burn Baby Burn. 'My life might not mean anything, yet I can make people remember my existence.' Dangerous thoughts. Dangerously tempting thoughts.
If I'm in pain, why aren't you?

Sober, awake and tired

How depressing is that?
I am counting the days. Again. Well I count the hours too. Again. Five more days of semi-sanity. And then? I don't know. I'm scared. I'll be alone for three full weeks. I don't know what will happen. I'm noticing I'm preparing myself, but I don't know what I'm preparing for. So tired. I watch movies and cry. Sometimes it's good to have an excuse for crying (although I have to admit corny comedies and cartoons are maybe a bit weak as cry-excuse, but it's better than nothing I guess).
What am I preparing for? I don't know. I have been drinking more and more past days, wondering if that's good or bad. I sleep and dream. Booze doesn't stop the dreaming anymore. So I'm sober again. And wide awake. It's not nightmares, it's just that dreams and reality seems to be mixed up all the time. And costs me more and more to shake them off. And too often I don't know if I've dreamed something or if it happened for real, or rather it's too mixed to know where the dream ended and the reality hit in again or the other way around. Is this just part of the getting older process (I must say it's a bit intriguing if anyone actually knows what changes in thoughts during that process) or does this mean I'm losing my sanity more and more.
I never was without random strange insane thoughts, but that's just what they were, thoughts. Thoughts without action are harmless. Not knowing if things are thoughts or dreams or reality might be another level completely. Should I be worried? I am. How to stay sane enough? Three weeks is a mighty long time.

Nothing new

I don't know.
People tell me I should look past the time I set. The time I will have to stay sorta sane and sorta socially acceptable. And I don't understand. Somehow I have trouble understanding they can see for themselves where they stand in a few years (besides the people who finish study and/or have certain ambitions regarding work, career, family-planning). And all of them just take an aspect (I aim to overthrow my boss and get his job, I want to finish my degree, I want to have x amount of children).
What life will you have in five years? I don't think they have it all sorted out. So how can they tell me I should set a goal for after what I aim for? I don't know. All I know is that I will have to stay sorta okay for the coming four years. Yes, I want to have a meaningful long-lasting relationship with someone that loves me with my flaws and worships all good parts and have a few children to waste earths resources even more. But I tried that and failed. So if that's not it, I will have to take care for the kiddo I managed to bring into this life and after that there is some huge void and I have no fecking clue what I want, will be.
Oh, I want so much and at the same time so little. I want peace of mind, nobody that bothers me, sit at home without responsibilities for anyone but myself. I mostly laugh at people that mutter and curse they have to do something while they don't have any offspring. Really, who cares. What does it matter you didn't vacuum the floors, didn't get groceries, didn't manage to get in bed before midnight. Course, you get dirty floors, have to live on whatever you didn't run out of and have trouble waking at 7am. But still, who's gonna tell you that's bad? It's just you that might make it difficult for yourself. The world will keep rotating, the sun will still set. So can I have my little dream of being able to just let it all go when the time hits kiddo is old enough to live on its own?
I don't know. Maybe I go nuts and kill three innocent bystanders while mutilating the clerk that doesn't understand I want to have something settled right now and not in three weeks, maybe I go utterly depressed and hang myself, maybe I just sit happily on my balcony musing over how fast kids grow and that finally I have time to invite those two studs and have a wild weekend. I just don't know.
Again, all I know is that till that time I need to not do all those things and do the right stuff. Which I've tried (and somehow managed for a bit) for the past fourteen years and in all honesty I'm getting fecking tired of doing the right things all the time. 'No, it's not allowed to grab that idiot and beat it senseless with a blunt object.' 'No, it's bad to set fire to that government-building no matter that there's at least a dozen people the world can do without easily.' Choices, choices.

The trouble with therapists

They depress me.
And I should probably leave it at this.

And I should probably give some of them more credit. Or maybe all of them. They try (or so I assume (although assumptions are reallyreally bad (but more about that some other time maybe))). They can't help it they are limited by their experience, the system, their education and their personality. And that has to match with the people they are trying to help. But that doesn't really help me.
And since I don't know what will help me (should I mention flamethrowers again?) they're probably a bit in the dark too. But I can't blame them for that. Maybe that's the whole problem, I'm nuts and I can't really put the blame anywhere. I'm filled with rage and I can't unleash it anywhere.

Which brings me back to depressing therapists. I have to lie to them. Which somehow doesn't feel right. But I'm scared they connect non-common behavior to the problem or make it into a problem or the problem. Even if some behavior is a symptom, I don't think it has to be fixed, since fixing the problem should fix the symptom. But going in therapy doesn't mean I lost my ability to think. I know what I am, I know how I react, I know what is part of the problem or not. The only thing I need help with is to find out how to fix my problem(s). So it's tiring and depressing to run into the therapists that are stuck on things they see as problems while I don't see them. And it takes too much effort mostly to get on a level where we are past that.
And I'm not able to have a coherent post about this right now.

Existentialism, Weltschmerz and Depression

I know there is a link between those three. I'm just not sure what is connected in what way to which. Or well I think I know, but not able to find the words for it. But then again, it's fecking late. And I kinda feel a bit depressed.
We have luxury problems mostly. Did our parents or our grandparents ever had time to think about their miserable lives? I think they just went on with it. It's not that long when all you had to do was keep on breathing, earn a living, raise your kids and not whine since it wouldn't help anything. Now we have welfare, choices we can make (no matter we have no clue what we're actually choosing). I believe (yadayada, you can only believe in something that can't be proven exists, else it would be a certainty no? Which would kinda kill the believecrap) that I am born in the wrong time. It should have been earlier or later (well, one can hope there is a future somewhere no?), but this so isn't my time. Nor my world. So I'm born wrongly, then put someplace I didn't ask for.
The only real choice one has is when to end it and how.

Oh and my topic isn't the best pick. *curls up and weeps*

Insanity

Isn't bad.
I think there's only two ways out of thinking. Going insane or sucking it up. I think I did the latter for the past 20 years or so. And insanity really sounds like a swell idea.
Or rather, how can you actually stay sane when you think. How can you watch the world, the little people with their limited minds (including yourself course), the damage done every minute and not go nuts.
I believed there had to be a purpose to everything happening. I tried to keep it simple. If it has happened it had to happen else it wouldn't have happened. And everything happening is something like a lesson, something you can learn from or get something out of. Something that makes you grow as a person and if you hadn't learned it would repeat itself till you had. That every bad you encountered was the way to teach you something, maybe not at that time, but later on, when enough time had passed for you to see (where course the passed time could be anywhere from 1min to 300 years). That in a way the ability to think was always a burden but also had a goal. And now, I'm just not so sure anymore. People that think aren't happy, can't be happy. And I don't mean they are naturally depressed. A depression is a state of mind.
I watched a dragonfly today. It landed on my book and sat there for a few minutes while I watched it, from every angle, before it flew off. I wasn't stunned with the beauty or something crap like that. It just was there and I watched and I wondered. It just lives, till it dies. A perfect living thing who apparently doesn't care if it has a purpose or not (one can never be sure I guess since I don't think any human has talked to dragonflies about their thoughts).
There is no way out for the thinking people. Always questioning the why and never be happy.

Where is the way out

Or rather how much longer can I control my anger, my rage. Or how can I get it out of the system without harming anyone. Or how can I lock it up forever.
Or well maybe I don't want to control it any longer, tired of the fighting and the struggling to stay socially acceptable, to not get pushed over the border of sanity. So tired, so angry. And I can't see it. It doesn't seem to matter what I do, I stay beyond angry. And I'm scared of what will happen if I do let go, let it be. Cities might burn, people might die, buildings might be demolished. Or maybe nothing will happen and I will be happyhappyjoyjoy forever. But can I take that risk? So far, I think not. It is tempting though, since my rage is enough to want to watch the cities burn.

So I lock myself up again, take another drink, smoke another cigarette, rant some more. I've thought about lots of fancy topicnames (from 'Watch me lose my sanity' to 'Where is that anger-managementclass when you need one') and even why I should bother to be public about this. I guess I care enough to want to be read and not care enough who reads it.
Or maybe so I can tell people I warned them if only they would have checked millions of blogs to find mine *hides*

The long hours of the night, the endless hours of the day. Alone with the rage. Alone with the fear. Everyone is alone and I really wonder how they can cope with it. Deep down inside everyone should be aware there is only you and your sick thoughts. Or maybe I am alone in that also (and no, I don't believe that). So. How do you cope with it? What is it that enables you to live past all the crap? To shake it off like it's nothing. It goes harder and harder for me or rather I have more and more difficulty to just let things pass.
So many little things that irritate me and makes me want to scream and hit things with a bat. Or a flamethrower. A chainsaw.
I don't know. I really don't know. The world isn't fair, the people are mostly selfish. So what makes it worthwhile.

The Void Within

Mmm, usually the start is easy, same as the end. It's what's in between that poses the problem. You are born, you die. There is no way to influence your birth (or well so I believe), there is a choice to not have your end be random. You can end it with a bang or just quietly whither away or leave it to whenever something decides your time is up.

And there's always the time between those two. What will you make of that. Will your time existing change anything and does it matter if it does or doesn't? I don't know. And sometimes I don't even care. I probably should care. I probably should try find a meaning for all that happens. I probably should be happy and grateful for what I am, what I have, what I can. But I am not. And I'm probably (hopefully?) not the only one.

I'm not sure if doing this makes sense in any way. Just a way to keep me off the streets I guess, which might be a good thing. Nobody is unique, yet everyone is. Which is the key. Since you're always alone, no matter how many friends, lovers, family one has. But humanity isn't made to be able to cope with that. We want to be unique yet part of others who are of the same uniqueness. And we bloom in that, that there's equalminded who understand our petty thoughts and evil ideas. Who can see beyond our shell of decency and be able to embrace the core (of which we know is rotten and smelly).