Everyone But Me

One never gets used to being alone. It is constant in its unpleasantness.

These days, it seems like everyone but me is in a relationship. I know that's not actually true - if it were, Lavalife would be out of business - but it feels like it. I have a brilliant, well-read friend who is, to put it kindly, physically unattractive. He has less money than I do, and that's rare. He has similar trouble maintaining a relationship. And yet, he is hardly ever single. He may have two or three different girlfriends a year, but he usually has someone. I have no idea how he does it. I would be happy with a string of failed relationships, but not having one at all, for years at a time, is intensely depressing.

The last girl I dated, I dated only very briefly, before I panicked and bailed. Now I regret dumping her, because in retrospect, we were compatible in many ways. But I can never seem to see the obvious when it's right in front of my face. Only later, when she has moved on and I look back on things, do I realize I made yet another mistake.

I can't seem to win. When I'm with someone, I'm either on edge all the time (afraid they're going to dump me) or I start feeling trapped and begin compiling a list of reasons why they're not the right one for me. It has been 20 years since I felt at ease with a woman, and that one still went off the rails, thanks to my complacency. Few things ruin a good relationship like taking a special person for granted, which is what I did. But when I'm alone, I'm miserable, and all I can think is that the wrong relationship would be better than no relationship at all.

I wish I knew how to stop subconsciously ruining things for myself. I wish I could end my apparent unconscious need for things to fail. I'm so very tired of being alone. I'm so tired of being the cold, lonesome, ghostly heart of a vast emotional darkness.

F.Y.M.

There's a wonderful movie called Fear Of A Black Hat. It's a Spinal Tap style mock-umentary of an imaginary rap band called NWH. If you can find it, watch it. It's hilarious. I mention it here only because one of the characters had titled his autobiography FYM. He said it stands for "Fuck Y'all Motherfuckers". So I'm borrowing it for this rant. This rant is FYM.

Fuck Y'all Motherfuckers.

This is a great big "fuck you" to everyone who thinks that I am a petulant whiner, and that I'm merely feeling sorry for myself. Fuck you. Walk a mile in my shoes, and then tell me it's easy.

People I know often mistake my angry rants and depression for unhappiness about my situation. I could give a rat's ass about my situation. I don't care about my crappy job, my car with the blown-up motor, my debts, my ex-wife, or the fact I haven't had a date in more than a year. What makes me alternately angry and morbidly depressed is that none of it is ever going to change, because the heart of all that darkness is me. I can't improve my situation, because I'm far too good at fucking everything up. I am where I am now - working a monkey's job for bum pay, divorced and scorned by my family - because I screwed everything up. Whenever I'm faced with a choice, I almost always make the wrong one. I apparently have a deep-seated subconscious need to fail, at least according to my shrink. So everyone that thinks I'm whining about my life is wrong. I'm whining about the fact that I suck, that I am the heart of the darkness I live in.

I am FUBAR, fucked up beyond all recognition. I don't even know where to begin to fix what's wrong with me. I don't do anything positive because I'm paralyzed with fear, because I can't trust my own judgement. I know deep down that whatever path I choose in life, it will be the wrong one. You want evidence? Look at my history, look at all the things I did in the past. My whole life history is the fucking evidence! Bad choice after bad choice has led me to where I am now; broke, divorced, alone, and wasting my talents cleaning cars. So fuck you, if you think I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Try being me for one fucking week, and then come to me with your bullshit about how I'm a self-indulgent whiner. Fuck off.

I don't want a better life. I want to BE SOMEONE ELSE. I could win the lottery tomorrow, and I'd be just as miserable, except in more luxurious surroundings. I could meet a wonderful woman tomorrow, but I'd find a way to fuck things up. But if I were someone else, someone a lot less messed up, I could find a way to be happy where I am, or make up some sort of plan to improve my lot. But I am trapped, trapped within myself, imprisoned in a vast darkness of which I am the heart. Take your platitudes and your easy answers and go fuck yourself. FYM.

More Evil Than I Thought

I wonder if you have ever had a moment this dark. I imagine most people have moments where they think "wow, I am messed up!". I know that a few people, like myself, know deep down that they are more screwed up than average. But have you ever had a dark, evil moment like this? Have you ever had a moment where you felt chills as a rising sense of horror crept over you, when you realized you were way more fucked up than you thought? I have.

I will not relate the details. Suffice it to say that I made a horrible decision, that I did something unspeakable. Worst of all, at the time, I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to do it anyway. Later, recalling my apalling behaviour, I was struck senseless by the sheer depth of the black pit of my soul. All I could say for hours afterwards, over and over, was "I am a monster".

I have always had a black and evil heart, but I had no idea how dark my heart is until recently. I truly am a monster, a wretched fiend so enslaved by frantic, grasping, selfish desires that I can barely stand the sight of my own reflection. All doubt has been removed, and I see the truth, the awful, hideous truth: I am evil. Evil is darkness, and I am the black hole at its center.

I am the very heart of darkness.