Nth Degree Difficulty Mature content No. 223 Published February 18th, 2021 11:46am pst read ( words) Past entries "This is never going to leave me. I have no fucking faith left. Beware this entry. 'If the war inside my head; Won't take a day off, I'll be dead.' -- Dave Mustaine Once again, 2-16. One day away from the eleven month mark since the first shelter order and I am no better for the time. I have already outlined the facts related to work, the only other issue at the forefront being feelings toward myself with regard to desire. There is no stopping, slowing, anything. The woman yesterday is slightly related. Slightly. Right now I am at a loss in more ways than one. The daily routine is finished. I have one more item on the list to care for and then I can go outside the norm and work with whatever seems most important. All the while my head is in bad shape -- like two miles of torn up roadway -- with the effort to keep myself intact at an all-time high. So far I've kept the brain in check today which is helping to raise my spirits despite the underlying issues. One, two, and four are right behind my eyes, with three coming up here and there due to some conversation the other day. This is going to be the most tedious and toilsome number of hours in memory. I am falling down. The fourth show is on again. I need that universe to show me possibility. Ok, I pushed and succeeded. The issues may push back, however I will not let them take over. The situation today is so bad that I cannot even put it into words. I don't have them. Maybe I completed the daily chores too early and left myself too much free time during the storm in my head. I may have to resort to the dire nature of loud music and electrical work in the garage. Right now I may not have an alternative. Such behavior has worked in the past. The show is helping. That one episode with the imagery and difficulty is behind now. The season has advanced, and even if I go back to the beginning, the one troubling vision will be weeks in the future. Any good right now is so important to my survival that I must take heed. This is bad. Conversation could ease the turmoil... Maybe, although I cannot be certain. Conversation means revealing things, and that is frightening. God damn all this shit anyway. I've had enough for a lifetime. And the past trauma is only slightly related. There is more. Much more. The oldest male character in this episode is featured several times throughout the last two seasons. I recall first knowing of the actor some years ago and holding tremendous appreciation for his work. Being partially cybernetic would seem to be difficult, but he always appeared fluid and effective. I hate to say it, but he is part of the problem. And this time I am not only referring to the character, but the actor as well. Even his birth name is amazing. It makes me think of grand landscapes, possibility, and the thrall of being a part of something wonderful... None of which applies to me any longer. Not his fault. Like the male bartender in the fiction, he is merely a symbol. My life is shrinking. Bad. I can't even spell out what is going on today. None of it. The entire shitaree is too personal to lay out on the fucking Internet. And as much as I would love to write (and have written) in privacy, nothing has ever helped me in the least. Not a fucking word. My only acceptable option right now is to continue veiling the subjects. This has been an ongoing issue ever since Ashley. Yes, THAT Ashley. More than seventeen years ago I was held close and told things I never thought possible. I have become a product of both her words and my own damned existence. Her words have not resounded, though. Not even close. No one feels (or seems to feel) as she did so long ago. Andrea was heading toward similar feelings but the time was too fucking Goddamned short. They are both gone for good. I may be gone, too. Out of my fucking mind. Make no mistake, this is worse than ever. I have placed some very harsh words here since last spring, but what is coming makes even my brain cringe, and the artwork I saw yesterday is being quickly destroyed. Ashley's words caused my thinking to change and the manner in which she communicated thoughts to me was magical. I need such feelings to return. Pause. Lindsay said she wished to attack each day, possess it. I cannot do that. The days are controlling me, and for a person who wishes little other than control at any given moment, this is not a good situation. I am having so much difficulty today that I don't even have a clue as to how I made it this far. I really don't. Something happened within the past eleven months to send me downward like never before and I don't know how to avoid the feelings of being left to the devices which have held me at their mercy for so many years. As sad as it may sound, I cannot survive this current situation. There is no way out any longer. A matter of time, nothing more. The issues are actually taking a back seat this afternoon to the prime crap which has literally been the same for more years than I care to admit. Today was almost unacceptable. I did the usual work and some dry cleaning, after which I thought a movie with lunch would be a good idea. Well, that went bad. I ended up wallowing and ran out of energy. It wasn't lunch, either. It was the usual bullshit from the past and the manner in which it has shaped me in the last several months. I went through a protracted description some time ago regarding the machine, and I have to admit it took over for a good portion of the afternoon. I actually had to force myself up and around the house to get the imagery and dreams out of my head. This is happening far too often for me to function normally. I never know when the feelings are going to take over and knock me on my sorry ass. Damn. As good as I have felt about myself this past year, sometimes nothing is enough to pull me out of the fucking din. I did it, though, and the effort nearly broke me in half. This brings me to tomorrow. I simply must rise above today and go beyond the typical alone hours and my routine. I have to. The alternative is likely worse than today. I made it out, though. That is one positive, at the very least. One part of today which I noticed after falling down is the fact that the woman from yesterday entered my head and would not leave. Her appearance at the time was overwhelming and led me to feel a strong desire, just like that damned thong in Vegas. I cannot have things like that taking over my day. Nothing good will come of it and the realization is such that I feel weaker than ever over the idea of the obsession. Years of torment never led to desire until recently. I don't understand, unless the barren period is beginning to drive my deviant sense of need beyond control. I just don't know right now. More analysis may be on tap. I honestly do not like any of this shit and none of it will help me deal with anything else. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. I don't believe I mentioned enough of what has been going down the drain. Much there, for sure. Almost everything in life now. This weakened state often keeps me on my ass for hours at a time, and even when I gather the strength to get up and do something productive, the desire remains and derails any clear thinking or concentration. The situation is worse than I had thought back in November. Hard to believe. For the time being, I need to completely eliminate one aspect of my day, especially considering the sheer heft if the fucking machine dream. It takes me out of the world and sends my head south more quickly than any other part of life. The pull becomes too much. Unfortunately, I am all too often at the mercy of the past wonder and wish it could come to pass again. I don't know, though. And part of the problem is my current situation within this damned house. Most of the time I am bereft of anything in line with all I have dreamed. The understanding was mentioned recently, and despite my unwillingness to go into detail, the fact is I can only push so much. The out of balance nature of my personality will not allow for anything to be even. Others simply will not get it. So, I remain muted. Gleaning has taken place throughout the past year or so, however I am so fucking ambiguous about anything sensitive that all I receive are confused expressions. Not surprising. I honestly pity anyone who enters into a conversation with yours truly. I really do. I don't like falling down as today. I hate it, in fact, although I do still try to consider such feelings as a normal course of life. Sometimes it helps, other times not so much. No choice there, really. Or, little choice. The strength required after years of turmoil is tremendous. I cannot stress that enough. 2-17. Yesterday must be erased completely. Wiped off the radar. It was bad. I can't have that again. Jamie was going to be included in the previous entry but I decided against it. So, here she is. Big deal. Nothing is exciting anymore. After last night's glimpse of a key film from the glowing years and what it meant at the time, I am once again at a hell of a loss. Oh, dinner went fine and the episode was brilliant like always, but all the while inside I was being crushed again. The domes, the restaurants, and the feelings of that period once again took me away and dropped me in the middle of the same territory as the big electronics stores. There is little to nothing I can do about this anymore. Those years are becoming more important with each passing day. I recall Tony saying something which was then categorized as a realization that we have come in 'at the end of something wonderful, possibly after'. I cannot disagree. Sean Young scares me for some reason. I've always thought of her as pretty but could not put my finger upon why. She's tall, fairly exaggerated, yet there is a feeling when I see her, like she is a person to be avoided on the screen. It may be due to one role (not her, but the entire film now) in the past in which I became overly sensitive to something during the story and then felt the need to stay away. Her character did it, too. Not the actor. And her costar didn't help at all. He was a favorite of the eighties and nineties -- and a person I went through holy hell to see on occasion -- that I cannot watch any longer. There might be one film still ok, but the lion's share is going to make me withdraw. It's bad, and sprung up more in the last six months than any other time since discovering those older films. I have nothing against Sean or any of the others, though. This is all me. Think of my worry as a facet of the 'two'. After yesterday, I am more sensitive than throughout the last dozen years. I did it to myself. 'Some sort of Goddamn trouble here, Jerome?' That fucking Sean thing from years ago may have been more key than I had realized at the time. I honestly cannot recall exactly when I was viewing the film, though. One certainty is a set of differing conversations years ago with a person I cannot name. She was quite sensitive to the opposite sex, very understanding of both sides of any issue, and actually helped things more than she hindered. Well, sometimes. She was also an enormous problem for reasons I cannot go into here. Suffice to say she boosted me a bit when I became full of worry. The Sean Young thing never really materialized into anything serious due to her support. It remained in the background. Having been reminded of that moment and the massive weight of the dialog (including too many fucking references to list here), the whole situation is once again taking up residence inside me. I've dealt with this type of thing before. As I said, with her it was eased somewhat, although there were times when I damned-near asked very pointed questions about her past but then shied away. The fact was I had been intimidated yet there seemed no resolution to it. I tried to go into it and the idea was squashed quickly. I discovered more evidence too, however by that point in time none of it mattered any longer. We were doomed anyway. There was no saving that dysfunctional crap. To this very day the issue remains inside as one of the most conjectured fucking subjects in existence. And yes, it is attached to the 'two'. Currently there is nothing I can do about it. Seeing Sean this morning carries two distinct emotions... Fear and appreciation. Unfortunately, I am to the point in which fear ruins everything. The appreciation has been minimized. That much more difficulty piled atop everything else of which I am afraid. Sean always played a very strong, forthright character, too. That did not help, but such is the film industry. If she were standing before me at this moment I would likely head straight out the back door to get away. Any one of her characters could be the most kind, caring and sensitive woman in the world and it would not matter in the least. I would dash. Not her fault. Mine. This is the very taproot of the 'two'. Yes, I said that. No matter what takes place for the remainder of my life, the Sean thing will limit me in too many ways to list. It is insurmountable, one of the most nauseating fears in the world, and something I have tried over and over to get around, but to no avail. All that is required is the tiniest reference -- God forbid from a woman -- and I am finished for a very long period of time. The beginning of the 'two', the one which relates to every fear, the worst of everything. Sean popped up in this funny movie this morning and her face reminded me of the very beginning of the shit. And keep in mind this one detail spirals out and into everything else. All of it. From the trouble last year, the year before, my time in the cave, and all of the little shreds of information gleaned from many conversations and virtually every aspect of media. It all pushes, constantly. Yep... That's how fucking sad I am right now. One little shot of Sean's big, beautiful eyes and a ton of shit came flowing through the spillway. Maybe I'll sell everything so I can hide myself forever. Wow, lots of space for that fucking problem. The reminder just drove it. I need to get past this today. The alternative will be my ass in the car and driving somewhere away from other people for a time. I simply must rise enough to function today. Wow, that was something. During the glow, I never considered such things as being very important. Now? The worry steers the ship of my life on these dangerous waters. It drives every fucking aspect of every fucking day. I can sit here and lay this out until the cows come home but nothing ever changes. The example today is rising from bed and realizing yesterday was not good so I have to make today better. And then I see Sean's face (again, not her fucking fault... Just a reference point) and go on all morning about a problem which likely began with words emanating from her mouth in a film. Of all things, my love for the industry and the nature of a required suspension of disbelief should railroad everything. But no, I am too intelligent for that and relate anything difficult to myself, immediately. Time to pause, thank God. My head is inside-out and bleeding. I can't talk to anyone in person because I will eventually come across as accusatory. Not fair. No one in my life is to blame for this shit, nor are they to be held accountable for independent thought. Again... Unfair. Right now I see no way to deal with something so hurtful other than continuing to spout here. Well, I do plan to tear into some shit later when the coffee is gone, although the temperature in the garage is less than comfortable. Perhaps keeping busy will warm me from the inside. That movie is on again. The one in which I had been looking around all of the decor of their house and reminiscing about the way our homes appeared many years ago. I was very young, so decor meant nothing other than some posters of bands in my bedroom. But now... Totally different. The rooms appear warm and cozy with so much wood and carpeting. I recall those early home designs in which streams ran through rooms, under little bridges here and there, and a few of the walls were stone and had greenery all over them. I bring those up because the movie premiered at a time when the issues were few -- mostly one in particular, which I can do exactly nothing about aside from removing the problem -- and I looked at the years ahead as adventurous, not trials. At present, I see little adventure anymore. As related to speaking with someone about the crap pushing me down, back then I had no reason, whereas now it almost feels necessary but I cannot do it. I have no wish to be unfair, yet such behavior will happen, sure as hell. I am buried too deeply now. A little bit of conversation, words heading into clear territory -- the opposite of all this ambiguity -- and I will fall apart. I'll end up worse off because everything will be out in the open and the fear of what that person may be thinking will fucking kill me, sure as hell. Not Sean's fault, nor the movie, other actors, the dialog... None of it. Just a reference which happened to cause a very weakened soul to break apart. As related to one and three, this will eventually ruin me. No way around it. Do you see how the content always seems to drift toward such a subject? How many times? This is the most difficulty I have ever experienced. Add to it the shit from more than four decades back and the sum is unavoidable. Here come those fucking dancers I mentioned before. The scene is supposed to be funny -- and it is for the most part -- although my head will not allow me to relax and laugh. Just like the other film with Tom and the server at a club (part of his bachelor party, I think), everything begins to spin and I feel small. And that even brings up a scene from the current series we have been following each night at dinner. More reinforcement of the fear. Society, conjecture, everything. From two to three and back again like a carousel built by Satan himself. Splendid. Whatever. This movie cannot be avoided. I simply have too much respect and appreciation for Michael's work. Overall, it's fine. Almost worth it. The house itself stands as a good portion of the draw. I really love that older stuff. I'm going to get away from this for a while. The coffee is waning and I need to make myself busy. The difficulty is still multiplying like rabbits from hell, all the while trying to push me into a small space like yesterday. I cannot have that. Force. I have to push now. Stop. Daily business finished. Very good. I also went to the big cabinets in the garage and reorganized a little. It's a start. Right now I am compelled to continue in this most difficult of veins. I read a while back about the male ego being possibly the most fragile 'thing' in existence. One word out of place, a threatening reference, or some other type of passive insensitivity can crush it for all time. That may have happened in the past, and if so, there is nary a possibility of reconstruction. Once broken, only temporary fixes can be accomplished. The depth of the fracture will remain forever. I believe I am at such a point so as to be constantly reminded of whatever took the strength away, and every single day holds one or more small bits of memories. It is gone now, never to return. Just like anything completely unique in the world, only one was fashioned from experiences and it cannot be replaced. There were stories of a few different individuals recalling their respective pasts, each with a very pointed situation in which the ego took a blow and removed any possibility of growth. Read this paragraph again, research the topic, and perhaps you will reach the realization just as I have. Learn, please. Some people are beyond repair for good reason. One story in particular gripped me and took hold. I cannot mention specifics, however. Everything I am trying to convey here is just too controversial and revealing to go into detail. And I will not fucking apologize, either. Live with it, and say it with me... 'Domain ownership and privately-held space'. The fact is that one individual had overheard something at a party which struck a nerve, eventually wracking said individual with fear around women. Very bad. I feel for that person but there is nothing I can do about it. Many occasions throughout the last decade have shown me reasons to place the blame on females, but the truth is they are not at fault. Not in the least. Males have commanded since the dawn of human life and continue to run amok. Not good. I cannot sit here and go into the development of society, though, because I am not well-enough versed in cultural anthropology. The fact is this, and I must return to the very beginning of wisdom: I do not know. One fact I DO know is that placing blame anywhere is ignorant. We are all human, period. Oy, fuck me is that ever a touchy subject. At least my head is not so fucked up that I begin to generalize. Such behavior is never good and causes so much harm at times that I am hesitant to even mention differences between the sexes. I may be attacked, labeled, or God-knows-what else. Bottom line? I am too intelligent and open-minded to allow the errors of society to jade me. I am trying to deal with myself, not everyone. Still recoiling like never before. Hopefully this does not cripple me for all time. I must continue to do what I can toward improvement and/or understanding. Even if nothing bears significant fruit, I must try. The degree to which this bullshit has influenced my life is now immeasurable. Fourth show again. All of my stuff is finished, including cleaning the bathroom. Very nice. I have a lunch date so everything must be in order before she arrives. I don't even feel hungry after chewing on the past all day long. I wish that was funny. Eating my words? Never. I rarely backpedal. What to do? Keep selling my possessions in hopes of being able to disappear? Unlikely. And not fun. The article mentioned above was a study, and a good one. I had not realized the weight of what can take place when a person is young, no matter their sex. And others have little clue, either. At that age, nothing seems dire or permanent. Only much later in life can we realize the depth of what may have taken place while young. Stop. 2-18, early. Yesterday was productive. I accomplished much, even after having lunch and watching some of the show. She took off to return to work and rather than sitting here for a while until the other one arrived home, I took my ass out there and worked. One little polish of the lunch crap in the kitchen and a bunch of reorganization in the new office. The goddess returned after her shift and grabbed my old office chair, as well. Much more empty space now. I will continue today, although rearranging the master bedroom may take precedence. Not sure yet. I also need to continue my kitchen adventure of learning how many items I can wrap and store without leaving us sans necessities. Always interesting because the kitchen cabinets are few. Built close to seventy years ago, this place. I can't help but think of all I've learned in the last several years, some of which began with the woman I mentioned above. Yep, her again. The toughest period in memory also carried with it a boatload of education for yours truly. She was well-versed in many aspects of life, often resulting in our conversations bordering upon the philosophical. Very interesting, to be sure. Whenever I became headstrong and threw out some issues which I believed began to tilt everything thousands of years ago, she would sit on it and think a while before coming back to me with the reasoning. And some of that did not originate in the books, either. She formulated and then attached where we are now to those ancient periods, along with the current behaviors as related to what we see and do in modern daily life. Fascinating, even though she shot me down quite often. Our discussions were wrought with trouble, though. There was always an inkling that I knew what she was thinking and she constantly worried that I wanted her physically. Thus, everything carried with it an underlying discomfort which never left. And her distance forced me to worry almost every moment. My head manufactured all sorts of trouble. Being alone in that little cave for all those many months had me overly preoccupied with imagining what she may have been thinking at any given time. We seldom spoke in person during that summer, too, meaning I could only wonder what had been happening. Add my past to such a situation and the result may be obvious. I felt threatened by the unknown. My brain would not leave it. No resting, no rationalizing, no help whatsoever up there all alone for months on end. I clung to what little messaging we exchanged, nothing more. The scars of the eighties became inflamed for a time before letting up on me. They are now bleeding. All these years after that troubling period with tons of stability in between, and I am worse. I am losing this battle. Today I need to keep my head out of the difficulty, if at all possible. There is plenty to do, as well. I can work on whatever is most pressing and hopefully come out the other side feeling accomplished. It happened yesterday and can happen again. I know it. Confidence? Not yet... I need to get there first. The last few weeks I've spent time with the fourth show in the background, however I wish to watch the second. I just don't know if I can because late last year were a couple of stings related to it. One will never go away, and the other may be dealt with slowly. Right now I don't know. I'll give it a try once this machine is closed for the morning and see what develops. Nothing can be as bad as the Sean thing, for sure. Knowing such a fact does help sometimes, but still those two situations which were quick and painful are still inside and always at the ready. I also need to remind myself of yesterday, a time in which I took to the work in the late afternoon and finished feeling better. Sometimes the chores become hopeful. The machine would negate everything. Ugh. Breathing. What took place may have been a combination of events in quick succession. I'm not sure because so much time has passed that everything seems foggy. That is a lot of years, meaning the sources are so far detached from the present that there is nothing I can do about it. Plenty of people have told me the best course is to try letting go and moving forward, however I have not been able to rise due to those very same people effectively reinforcing the bad without realizing the consequences. Well, fuck it anyway. I said before that I am weaker now than ever, and no words from a stray mind are going to chip that away. Not possible. If anything changes, it must be from within. Unfortunately, the hits just keep on catching the side of my head and those very same individuals are the ones swinging. And that sends us into a gray area. Requiring anyone to alter themselves for my benefit is completely unfair. And it likely would lead to rampant resentment as well as even more wondering what may be going on inside. I cannot have that, and I cannot be unfair. Well, I already am to a point, but the reasoning is critical to my survival and I believe the difference is understood. I do the same thing. Sometimes. I've said over and over that if I change too much and end up a different person, something unique could be lost. The same goes for any person. I will not only resist with each breath, but I will also push that they remain themselves. There is no other way. Not anymore. Whatever has happened, none of it is the fault of any person living now. Period. Another path is necessary, yet I have not the first clue as to which way to turn. Unfair. Could it be the way out of this? Or would it only lead to more worry? I look, I watch, I hear... Still nothing helps. I cannot fucking KNOW, and the past is hindering my effort. There have been too many occasions. One is fairly fresh, too. The unfortunate situation played out, and through something completely unexpected, I learned too much. And then the concern became more than just a feeling, it destroyed me through confirmation. That was so bad that I nearly did something irreversible. Fortunately, I opted to simply ignore everything from that point forward. Soon after? The relationship was obliterated anyway. I knew such an event was on the horizon for months, and when I finally saw that the fear was justified, a part of me fell away and cannot return. Now? The trust is gone for good. I will not go into the machine again. That point has been made. What took place all those years ago still hurts, believe it or not, and left me angry. I still feel the same to this very second. Yep. Believe it. The wall will never, ever come down. Hopefully I won't turn into a complete fucking asshole over this. Alone is a given, but I don't want to be the asshole. Hmm... Maybe I already am. Fine. Last night's episode punched me in the face through phrasing uttered years earlier during a different series we had been following. It's not that big of a deal by this point, and relates to something I told the goddess weeks ago. My statement was difficult for her to accept, although what I am about to say will probably lead to more understanding of the genesis and situation. The fact is the trust cannot happen now because there is too much fucking fear. What others do not know is that the flip side of this is me not caring of what goes on inside. That's right... Such a feeling exists alongside the lack of the same. Get it? I only worry about what some people are thinking at any given moment. Others? I don't give a fuck. The idea lends to my current mindset and honestly adds to the available peace of mind. But the episode last night was a reminder of what took place many moons ago when I was forced to put two and two together and create an image I had not previously considered. Well, back then it was a problem and stuck in my craw for quite a while, whereas now I honestly do not care of the feelings. Whatever I am in these late days, honesty is at the top of my list. Bottom line? I know what I am not. Period. Fuck you. I can only be me. Those little cuts take a possibly hurtful situation for some and slam it right back into the forefront of society's apathetic attention span. Straight into the lights. Not good. I really did not feel surprise, though, because these days nothing is off limits. The whole shitaree is swirling in the bowl and awaiting the flush to complete its cycle. The jab was unexpected. This morning it is nearly gone, but I do remember. That right there is a fucking surprise. Heh. My memory sucks anymore. The point is I have changed dramatically in the last several years, and not all of it is bad. Surprising? Perhaps. I believe the reason is anger. I am on one side of a very thick line while the rest of society remains shoved to the opposite. The hideous downside is that I am beginning to think I will have to resort to stricter viewing in the future. I don't believe anything can be safe now, be it something which causes fear or pain, or possibly the media which makes me want to destroy everyone. I suppose time will tell. The 'two' is here for the duration, meaning I have no choice but to protect myself by slicing off pieces of life. I feel as if I am made of very thin glass these days. The tiniest reference or phrase sends me into a tailspin. Being this fragile is not good. Overly sensitive, and as I have stated on many an occasion, possibly too much so to survive around others. Mostly females, naturally. The reasons keep piling on top of each other and leave me constantly overanalyzing everything in life. Even the fucking media. Just last night while dinner was in the oven, I had an older film on which I used to really enjoy despite the imagery, yet I could no longer relax and become part of the scenery. All I did was wallow over what I was seeing and almost immediately fell back to that fucking night in the theatre twenty-three years back. The quiet phrase uttered from a seat in front of my position sent me down a little, and then as time passed it grew in importance and left me bereft of comfort while seeing almost anything play out on the screen. Too sensitive now. If that one moment carried with it a lifetime of difficulty in relating to females, what will happen in the future if I cannot find the strength to simply live with it? Every fucking time these days. More and more fragile with each passing moment. Not good, you say? I am forced to agree yet have no idea what to do. There was actually another, way the fuck back during the glow, but I do not remember falling apart like this. Three of us watching a movie, a few choice words and observations, yet there was no serious fallout. That tells me that the time passing has only made me more delicate. Again... Not good. Not by any stretch of the word. By the time the phrase was uttered in the theatre, things had become worse, but still not as bad as the present. I really covered things up back then. No one knew of anything. The only positive is that I was withdrawn to the point of nearly xenophobia. I spent so much time concerned with being seen by other people that any remaining issues were shoved to the back burner. There has to be a way out of this. So far, I am ill-equipped to help myself. And then the fucking Sean thing alongside one of my (past) favorite actors. That took any remaining wind out of my sails and eliminated enjoyment of his films. Isn't that nice? The movie last night held no less than three such actors, one of which being a point of contention back in early eleven. The conversation and reference sent me across the fucking country and into one of the most damaging, hellish conclusions imaginable. Remember my gallivanting with Andrea? Consider that entire affair as one big, fat defense mechanism. It drained me of not just money, but my will to be near other people. And I continued anyway. What a fucking idiot. I may never be able to watch many of the defining films any longer. On the heels of that shit? Professional football. Believe it. Fucked. I am even worse now. In pieces. Glass? Hmm... Maybe 'candy' glass. Look it up. Nearly ten in the morning and I am still sitting here. Compulsion anyone? Even after gushing in 'The Two' some weeks ago, there is always more. I cannot say enough about this fucking subject, and the one aspect of my life with the ability to seriously harm me. It is more powerful than anything, even the pull of sex. Overpowering, really. I forget nothing, and when summed? Too much. Too sensitive. My problem? I don't know. This is the most difficulty I have ever experienced. It is to such a degree as nothing before. More and more and more all the time. Does this come across as dire? I hope so. I may be avoiding specifics, but the underlying trouble needs none. There are many bottom lines these days, not the least of which is the idea of my having become this through both the uncontrollable past and those words and actions of other people. Yes, I am partly at fault, but I am a very good person. Just a haunted person. More will take place, doubtless very soon. I know it because I constantly analyze everything. Yesterday during the show there was nearly an explosion. Fortunately, it was diffused before going bad. I very nearly took too much issue. The reality was a simple misunderstanding, yet I know why it happened. Me. My head. My fear. All of the worry. The fucking sensitivity which will no longer allow me to fully relax. More and more and more. If I can be at all prepared, that may help. Once alone, however, all hell will break loose. Being constantly on guard is fucking exhausting. The clues have been there for months, mostly since last spring. The two words, those references during a sport I loved, and countless little moments dating further back. I recall the bar -- not the one frequented by myself and the other guys -- a vastly different location, but little did I know at the time, the incident became an enormous and unavoidable precursor to other occasions in which one of my biggest fears (and a facet of the 'two' against which I am helpless to defend) sat almost next to me as my brain melted away. It still resounds to this very fucking second. Again... I can do nothing about it. I could not then, and certainly feel helpless now. Insurmountable fear all rolled up and tied with a bow. The details must be left out of this crap, too. If any backlash occurs, I will not survive. Exposure of my fear is worse than the situations which have played out in the past. Much worse. Everything must remain hidden away. Suffice to say, the morning in question and my subsequent fall now stands as even more disheartening than when it first took place. The worst part? I cannot discuss this with anyone for fear of being patronized, labeled, or possibly more. Clues. Little things here and there. When summed, they have become the worst aspect of my fucking life. One more time? I am helpless to push or guard against them. Everything remains deeply embedded within and the heft will eventually kill me. More and more and more. I see it, remember it, and know there is no end. I have finished the kitchen for the day. Very good. Underneath? Clues. I know what goes on. I really do. Nothing can be done. The 'two' is ruining me a little at a time. I wish there could be an outlet beyond this fucking ridiculous endeavor. Alas, I am not surprised. Nothing is new, nothing is remarkable, and there is no more up aside from my false front. It is way up. As I said, the kitchen is finished. Floor swept. I have very little left of the routine. Beyond it, I am hoping to care for more of what began yesterday. Afterward will be an unrelenting push to keep myself upright in whatever manner possible. Rising and moving about the house to complete anything these days is nearly beyond my ability. I have to push like never before. My head tells me to sit here and drink myself into oblivion and then simply fall on my face outside on the concrete. I doubt anyone would miss my bullshit. But I have to try, even with everything that has transpired and all those little fucking knives sticking out of my being, I must still try. All I do anymore is support others and push myself to feel deserving of the little enjoyments. Believe me when I say they are waning. Small. Still enough, though. Barely. Barely. I have to put this aside for some time. Too much writing lately. I tried to shorten the entries, too. The only difference was publishing more often. That is the same. There are still so many parts of life pushing me to type each day. I will try to take a break after this because I do not feel well at all. Distance, perhaps. I'll do my work and continue to hide myself away from the penetrating gaze of people. And now it is... Time to sell more of my stuff. I need to amass the resources again. The future remains uncertain save for one little fact: I will eventually go away because I cannot survive like this. As much as I have worsened since just last year, the fact is I've been able to hold up the huge facade thus far out of the strongest need of my life. It's still there. Heavy, enormous, and very tiring. I am fucking sick of it yet unable to change anything. Worsening, falling down over and over, and no one can hear it because I can't fucking say it. Inside I am screaming. Outside? Peachy. The strain is overwhelming. I will continue to go through the stupid motions and bring in as much money as possible. Daily work, too. I'll take care of everything and toe the line just as the last eleven months (years, really). As I have said many, many times... The little enjoyments are still there. Thank Christ. Look at Jamie again, all bright and full of wonder. She's been through tons of shit. Her health, bearing children, and the weight of being famous. But that wondrous smile never leaves. Bless her for whatever inspiration she can provide. Not enough. No hope, faith, or anything else. Nothing left, just as I stated at the top. Everything is either gone or ruined. The future holds more of the same. Last summer was the beginning of the end as I began to see where I am going. Traveling across a wasteland of memories and cuts, the likes of which I had never imagined. The other end of this wasteland is the end of my association with people. The only way. There is no machine. Blue dress burned. 'Kill me... Kill me; kill me; kill me; kill me (whispering)... Kill me; kill me'. -- Gloria Trillo 316 now. Hopefully when that number reaches zero there will be heroin on my lips. She is out there." 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Nth Degree Difficulty Mature content No. 223 Published February 18th, 2021 11:46am pst read ( words) Past entries "This is never going to leave me. I have no fucking faith left. Beware this entry. 'If the war inside my head; Won't take a day off, I'll be dead.' -- Dave Mustaine Once again, 2-16. One day away from the eleven month mark since the first shelter order and I am no better for the time. I have already outlined the facts related to work, the only other issue at the forefront being feelings toward myself with regard to desire. There is no stopping, slowing, anything. The woman yesterday is slightly related. Slightly. Right now I am at a loss in more ways than one. The daily routine is finished. I have one more item on the list to care for and then I can go outside the norm and work with whatever seems most important. All the while my head is in bad shape -- like two miles of torn up roadway -- with the effort to keep myself intact at an all-time high. So far I've kept the brain in check today which is helping to raise my spirits despite the underlying issues. One, two, and four are right behind my eyes, with three coming up here and there due to some conversation the other day. This is going to be the most tedious and toilsome number of hours in memory. I am falling down. The fourth show is on again. I need that universe to show me possibility. Ok, I pushed and succeeded. The issues may push back, however I will not let them take over. The situation today is so bad that I cannot even put it into words. I don't have them. Maybe I completed the daily chores too early and left myself too much free time during the storm in my head. I may have to resort to the dire nature of loud music and electrical work in the garage. Right now I may not have an alternative. Such behavior has worked in the past. The show is helping. That one episode with the imagery and difficulty is behind now. The season has advanced, and even if I go back to the beginning, the one troubling vision will be weeks in the future. Any good right now is so important to my survival that I must take heed. This is bad. Conversation could ease the turmoil... Maybe, although I cannot be certain. Conversation means revealing things, and that is frightening. God damn all this shit anyway. I've had enough for a lifetime. And the past trauma is only slightly related. There is more. Much more. The oldest male character in this episode is featured several times throughout the last two seasons. I recall first knowing of the actor some years ago and holding tremendous appreciation for his work. Being partially cybernetic would seem to be difficult, but he always appeared fluid and effective. I hate to say it, but he is part of the problem. And this time I am not only referring to the character, but the actor as well. Even his birth name is amazing. It makes me think of grand landscapes, possibility, and the thrall of being a part of something wonderful... None of which applies to me any longer. Not his fault. Like the male bartender in the fiction, he is merely a symbol. My life is shrinking. Bad. I can't even spell out what is going on today. None of it. The entire shitaree is too personal to lay out on the fucking Internet. And as much as I would love to write (and have written) in privacy, nothing has ever helped me in the least. Not a fucking word. My only acceptable option right now is to continue veiling the subjects. This has been an ongoing issue ever since Ashley. Yes, THAT Ashley. More than seventeen years ago I was held close and told things I never thought possible. I have become a product of both her words and my own damned existence. Her words have not resounded, though. Not even close. No one feels (or seems to feel) as she did so long ago. Andrea was heading toward similar feelings but the time was too fucking Goddamned short. They are both gone for good. I may be gone, too. Out of my fucking mind. Make no mistake, this is worse than ever. I have placed some very harsh words here since last spring, but what is coming makes even my brain cringe, and the artwork I saw yesterday is being quickly destroyed. Ashley's words caused my thinking to change and the manner in which she communicated thoughts to me was magical. I need such feelings to return. Pause. Lindsay said she wished to attack each day, possess it. I cannot do that. The days are controlling me, and for a person who wishes little other than control at any given moment, this is not a good situation. I am having so much difficulty today that I don't even have a clue as to how I made it this far. I really don't. Something happened within the past eleven months to send me downward like never before and I don't know how to avoid the feelings of being left to the devices which have held me at their mercy for so many years. As sad as it may sound, I cannot survive this current situation. There is no way out any longer. A matter of time, nothing more. The issues are actually taking a back seat this afternoon to the prime crap which has literally been the same for more years than I care to admit. Today was almost unacceptable. I did the usual work and some dry cleaning, after which I thought a movie with lunch would be a good idea. Well, that went bad. I ended up wallowing and ran out of energy. It wasn't lunch, either. It was the usual bullshit from the past and the manner in which it has shaped me in the last several months. I went through a protracted description some time ago regarding the machine, and I have to admit it took over for a good portion of the afternoon. I actually had to force myself up and around the house to get the imagery and dreams out of my head. This is happening far too often for me to function normally. I never know when the feelings are going to take over and knock me on my sorry ass. Damn. As good as I have felt about myself this past year, sometimes nothing is enough to pull me out of the fucking din. I did it, though, and the effort nearly broke me in half. This brings me to tomorrow. I simply must rise above today and go beyond the typical alone hours and my routine. I have to. The alternative is likely worse than today. I made it out, though. That is one positive, at the very least. One part of today which I noticed after falling down is the fact that the woman from yesterday entered my head and would not leave. Her appearance at the time was overwhelming and led me to feel a strong desire, just like that damned thong in Vegas. I cannot have things like that taking over my day. Nothing good will come of it and the realization is such that I feel weaker than ever over the idea of the obsession. Years of torment never led to desire until recently. I don't understand, unless the barren period is beginning to drive my deviant sense of need beyond control. I just don't know right now. More analysis may be on tap. I honestly do not like any of this shit and none of it will help me deal with anything else. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. I don't believe I mentioned enough of what has been going down the drain. Much there, for sure. Almost everything in life now. This weakened state often keeps me on my ass for hours at a time, and even when I gather the strength to get up and do something productive, the desire remains and derails any clear thinking or concentration. The situation is worse than I had thought back in November. Hard to believe. For the time being, I need to completely eliminate one aspect of my day, especially considering the sheer heft if the fucking machine dream. It takes me out of the world and sends my head south more quickly than any other part of life. The pull becomes too much. Unfortunately, I am all too often at the mercy of the past wonder and wish it could come to pass again. I don't know, though. And part of the problem is my current situation within this damned house. Most of the time I am bereft of anything in line with all I have dreamed. The understanding was mentioned recently, and despite my unwillingness to go into detail, the fact is I can only push so much. The out of balance nature of my personality will not allow for anything to be even. Others simply will not get it. So, I remain muted. Gleaning has taken place throughout the past year or so, however I am so fucking ambiguous about anything sensitive that all I receive are confused expressions. Not surprising. I honestly pity anyone who enters into a conversation with yours truly. I really do. I don't like falling down as today. I hate it, in fact, although I do still try to consider such feelings as a normal course of life. Sometimes it helps, other times not so much. No choice there, really. Or, little choice. The strength required after years of turmoil is tremendous. I cannot stress that enough. 2-17. Yesterday must be erased completely. Wiped off the radar. It was bad. I can't have that again. Jamie was going to be included in the previous entry but I decided against it. So, here she is. Big deal. Nothing is exciting anymore. After last night's glimpse of a key film from the glowing years and what it meant at the time, I am once again at a hell of a loss. Oh, dinner went fine and the episode was brilliant like always, but all the while inside I was being crushed again. The domes, the restaurants, and the feelings of that period once again took me away and dropped me in the middle of the same territory as the big electronics stores. There is little to nothing I can do about this anymore. Those years are becoming more important with each passing day. I recall Tony saying something which was then categorized as a realization that we have come in 'at the end of something wonderful, possibly after'. I cannot disagree. Sean Young scares me for some reason. I've always thought of her as pretty but could not put my finger upon why. She's tall, fairly exaggerated, yet there is a feeling when I see her, like she is a person to be avoided on the screen. It may be due to one role (not her, but the entire film now) in the past in which I became overly sensitive to something during the story and then felt the need to stay away. Her character did it, too. Not the actor. And her costar didn't help at all. He was a favorite of the eighties and nineties -- and a person I went through holy hell to see on occasion -- that I cannot watch any longer. There might be one film still ok, but the lion's share is going to make me withdraw. It's bad, and sprung up more in the last six months than any other time since discovering those older films. I have nothing against Sean or any of the others, though. This is all me. Think of my worry as a facet of the 'two'. After yesterday, I am more sensitive than throughout the last dozen years. I did it to myself. 'Some sort of Goddamn trouble here, Jerome?' That fucking Sean thing from years ago may have been more key than I had realized at the time. I honestly cannot recall exactly when I was viewing the film, though. One certainty is a set of differing conversations years ago with a person I cannot name. She was quite sensitive to the opposite sex, very understanding of both sides of any issue, and actually helped things more than she hindered. Well, sometimes. She was also an enormous problem for reasons I cannot go into here. Suffice to say she boosted me a bit when I became full of worry. The Sean Young thing never really materialized into anything serious due to her support. It remained in the background. Having been reminded of that moment and the massive weight of the dialog (including too many fucking references to list here), the whole situation is once again taking up residence inside me. I've dealt with this type of thing before. As I said, with her it was eased somewhat, although there were times when I damned-near asked very pointed questions about her past but then shied away. The fact was I had been intimidated yet there seemed no resolution to it. I tried to go into it and the idea was squashed quickly. I discovered more evidence too, however by that point in time none of it mattered any longer. We were doomed anyway. There was no saving that dysfunctional crap. To this very day the issue remains inside as one of the most conjectured fucking subjects in existence. And yes, it is attached to the 'two'. Currently there is nothing I can do about it. Seeing Sean this morning carries two distinct emotions... Fear and appreciation. Unfortunately, I am to the point in which fear ruins everything. The appreciation has been minimized. That much more difficulty piled atop everything else of which I am afraid. Sean always played a very strong, forthright character, too. That did not help, but such is the film industry. If she were standing before me at this moment I would likely head straight out the back door to get away. Any one of her characters could be the most kind, caring and sensitive woman in the world and it would not matter in the least. I would dash. Not her fault. Mine. This is the very taproot of the 'two'. Yes, I said that. No matter what takes place for the remainder of my life, the Sean thing will limit me in too many ways to list. It is insurmountable, one of the most nauseating fears in the world, and something I have tried over and over to get around, but to no avail. All that is required is the tiniest reference -- God forbid from a woman -- and I am finished for a very long period of time. The beginning of the 'two', the one which relates to every fear, the worst of everything. Sean popped up in this funny movie this morning and her face reminded me of the very beginning of the shit. And keep in mind this one detail spirals out and into everything else. All of it. From the trouble last year, the year before, my time in the cave, and all of the little shreds of information gleaned from many conversations and virtually every aspect of media. It all pushes, constantly. Yep... That's how fucking sad I am right now. One little shot of Sean's big, beautiful eyes and a ton of shit came flowing through the spillway. Maybe I'll sell everything so I can hide myself forever. Wow, lots of space for that fucking problem. The reminder just drove it. I need to get past this today. The alternative will be my ass in the car and driving somewhere away from other people for a time. I simply must rise enough to function today. Wow, that was something. During the glow, I never considered such things as being very important. Now? The worry steers the ship of my life on these dangerous waters. It drives every fucking aspect of every fucking day. I can sit here and lay this out until the cows come home but nothing ever changes. The example today is rising from bed and realizing yesterday was not good so I have to make today better. And then I see Sean's face (again, not her fucking fault... Just a reference point) and go on all morning about a problem which likely began with words emanating from her mouth in a film. Of all things, my love for the industry and the nature of a required suspension of disbelief should railroad everything. But no, I am too intelligent for that and relate anything difficult to myself, immediately. Time to pause, thank God. My head is inside-out and bleeding. I can't talk to anyone in person because I will eventually come across as accusatory. Not fair. No one in my life is to blame for this shit, nor are they to be held accountable for independent thought. Again... Unfair. Right now I see no way to deal with something so hurtful other than continuing to spout here. Well, I do plan to tear into some shit later when the coffee is gone, although the temperature in the garage is less than comfortable. Perhaps keeping busy will warm me from the inside. That movie is on again. The one in which I had been looking around all of the decor of their house and reminiscing about the way our homes appeared many years ago. I was very young, so decor meant nothing other than some posters of bands in my bedroom. But now... Totally different. The rooms appear warm and cozy with so much wood and carpeting. I recall those early home designs in which streams ran through rooms, under little bridges here and there, and a few of the walls were stone and had greenery all over them. I bring those up because the movie premiered at a time when the issues were few -- mostly one in particular, which I can do exactly nothing about aside from removing the problem -- and I looked at the years ahead as adventurous, not trials. At present, I see little adventure anymore. As related to speaking with someone about the crap pushing me down, back then I had no reason, whereas now it almost feels necessary but I cannot do it. I have no wish to be unfair, yet such behavior will happen, sure as hell. I am buried too deeply now. A little bit of conversation, words heading into clear territory -- the opposite of all this ambiguity -- and I will fall apart. I'll end up worse off because everything will be out in the open and the fear of what that person may be thinking will fucking kill me, sure as hell. Not Sean's fault, nor the movie, other actors, the dialog... None of it. Just a reference which happened to cause a very weakened soul to break apart. As related to one and three, this will eventually ruin me. No way around it. Do you see how the content always seems to drift toward such a subject? How many times? This is the most difficulty I have ever experienced. Add to it the shit from more than four decades back and the sum is unavoidable. Here come those fucking dancers I mentioned before. The scene is supposed to be funny -- and it is for the most part -- although my head will not allow me to relax and laugh. Just like the other film with Tom and the server at a club (part of his bachelor party, I think), everything begins to spin and I feel small. And that even brings up a scene from the current series we have been following each night at dinner. More reinforcement of the fear. Society, conjecture, everything. From two to three and back again like a carousel built by Satan himself. Splendid. Whatever. This movie cannot be avoided. I simply have too much respect and appreciation for Michael's work. Overall, it's fine. Almost worth it. The house itself stands as a good portion of the draw. I really love that older stuff. I'm going to get away from this for a while. The coffee is waning and I need to make myself busy. The difficulty is still multiplying like rabbits from hell, all the while trying to push me into a small space like yesterday. I cannot have that. Force. I have to push now. Stop. Daily business finished. Very good. I also went to the big cabinets in the garage and reorganized a little. It's a start. Right now I am compelled to continue in this most difficult of veins. I read a while back about the male ego being possibly the most fragile 'thing' in existence. One word out of place, a threatening reference, or some other type of passive insensitivity can crush it for all time. That may have happened in the past, and if so, there is nary a possibility of reconstruction. Once broken, only temporary fixes can be accomplished. The depth of the fracture will remain forever. I believe I am at such a point so as to be constantly reminded of whatever took the strength away, and every single day holds one or more small bits of memories. It is gone now, never to return. Just like anything completely unique in the world, only one was fashioned from experiences and it cannot be replaced. There were stories of a few different individuals recalling their respective pasts, each with a very pointed situation in which the ego took a blow and removed any possibility of growth. Read this paragraph again, research the topic, and perhaps you will reach the realization just as I have. Learn, please. Some people are beyond repair for good reason. One story in particular gripped me and took hold. I cannot mention specifics, however. Everything I am trying to convey here is just too controversial and revealing to go into detail. And I will not fucking apologize, either. Live with it, and say it with me... 'Domain ownership and privately-held space'. The fact is that one individual had overheard something at a party which struck a nerve, eventually wracking said individual with fear around women. Very bad. I feel for that person but there is nothing I can do about it. Many occasions throughout the last decade have shown me reasons to place the blame on females, but the truth is they are not at fault. Not in the least. Males have commanded since the dawn of human life and continue to run amok. Not good. I cannot sit here and go into the development of society, though, because I am not well-enough versed in cultural anthropology. The fact is this, and I must return to the very beginning of wisdom: I do not know. One fact I DO know is that placing blame anywhere is ignorant. We are all human, period. Oy, fuck me is that ever a touchy subject. At least my head is not so fucked up that I begin to generalize. Such behavior is never good and causes so much harm at times that I am hesitant to even mention differences between the sexes. I may be attacked, labeled, or God-knows-what else. Bottom line? I am too intelligent and open-minded to allow the errors of society to jade me. I am trying to deal with myself, not everyone. Still recoiling like never before. Hopefully this does not cripple me for all time. I must continue to do what I can toward improvement and/or understanding. Even if nothing bears significant fruit, I must try. The degree to which this bullshit has influenced my life is now immeasurable. Fourth show again. All of my stuff is finished, including cleaning the bathroom. Very nice. I have a lunch date so everything must be in order before she arrives. I don't even feel hungry after chewing on the past all day long. I wish that was funny. Eating my words? Never. I rarely backpedal. What to do? Keep selling my possessions in hopes of being able to disappear? Unlikely. And not fun. The article mentioned above was a study, and a good one. I had not realized the weight of what can take place when a person is young, no matter their sex. And others have little clue, either. At that age, nothing seems dire or permanent. Only much later in life can we realize the depth of what may have taken place while young. Stop. 2-18, early. Yesterday was productive. I accomplished much, even after having lunch and watching some of the show. She took off to return to work and rather than sitting here for a while until the other one arrived home, I took my ass out there and worked. One little polish of the lunch crap in the kitchen and a bunch of reorganization in the new office. The goddess returned after her shift and grabbed my old office chair, as well. Much more empty space now. I will continue today, although rearranging the master bedroom may take precedence. Not sure yet. I also need to continue my kitchen adventure of learning how many items I can wrap and store without leaving us sans necessities. Always interesting because the kitchen cabinets are few. Built close to seventy years ago, this place. I can't help but think of all I've learned in the last several years, some of which began with the woman I mentioned above. Yep, her again. The toughest period in memory also carried with it a boatload of education for yours truly. She was well-versed in many aspects of life, often resulting in our conversations bordering upon the philosophical. Very interesting, to be sure. Whenever I became headstrong and threw out some issues which I believed began to tilt everything thousands of years ago, she would sit on it and think a while before coming back to me with the reasoning. And some of that did not originate in the books, either. She formulated and then attached where we are now to those ancient periods, along with the current behaviors as related to what we see and do in modern daily life. Fascinating, even though she shot me down quite often. Our discussions were wrought with trouble, though. There was always an inkling that I knew what she was thinking and she constantly worried that I wanted her physically. Thus, everything carried with it an underlying discomfort which never left. And her distance forced me to worry almost every moment. My head manufactured all sorts of trouble. Being alone in that little cave for all those many months had me overly preoccupied with imagining what she may have been thinking at any given time. We seldom spoke in person during that summer, too, meaning I could only wonder what had been happening. Add my past to such a situation and the result may be obvious. I felt threatened by the unknown. My brain would not leave it. No resting, no rationalizing, no help whatsoever up there all alone for months on end. I clung to what little messaging we exchanged, nothing more. The scars of the eighties became inflamed for a time before letting up on me. They are now bleeding. All these years after that troubling period with tons of stability in between, and I am worse. I am losing this battle. Today I need to keep my head out of the difficulty, if at all possible. There is plenty to do, as well. I can work on whatever is most pressing and hopefully come out the other side feeling accomplished. It happened yesterday and can happen again. I know it. Confidence? Not yet... I need to get there first. The last few weeks I've spent time with the fourth show in the background, however I wish to watch the second. I just don't know if I can because late last year were a couple of stings related to it. One will never go away, and the other may be dealt with slowly. Right now I don't know. I'll give it a try once this machine is closed for the morning and see what develops. Nothing can be as bad as the Sean thing, for sure. Knowing such a fact does help sometimes, but still those two situations which were quick and painful are still inside and always at the ready. I also need to remind myself of yesterday, a time in which I took to the work in the late afternoon and finished feeling better. Sometimes the chores become hopeful. The machine would negate everything. Ugh. Breathing. What took place may have been a combination of events in quick succession. I'm not sure because so much time has passed that everything seems foggy. That is a lot of years, meaning the sources are so far detached from the present that there is nothing I can do about it. Plenty of people have told me the best course is to try letting go and moving forward, however I have not been able to rise due to those very same people effectively reinforcing the bad without realizing the consequences. Well, fuck it anyway. I said before that I am weaker now than ever, and no words from a stray mind are going to chip that away. Not possible. If anything changes, it must be from within. Unfortunately, the hits just keep on catching the side of my head and those very same individuals are the ones swinging. And that sends us into a gray area. Requiring anyone to alter themselves for my benefit is completely unfair. And it likely would lead to rampant resentment as well as even more wondering what may be going on inside. I cannot have that, and I cannot be unfair. Well, I already am to a point, but the reasoning is critical to my survival and I believe the difference is understood. I do the same thing. Sometimes. I've said over and over that if I change too much and end up a different person, something unique could be lost. The same goes for any person. I will not only resist with each breath, but I will also push that they remain themselves. There is no other way. Not anymore. Whatever has happened, none of it is the fault of any person living now. Period. Another path is necessary, yet I have not the first clue as to which way to turn. Unfair. Could it be the way out of this? Or would it only lead to more worry? I look, I watch, I hear... Still nothing helps. I cannot fucking KNOW, and the past is hindering my effort. There have been too many occasions. One is fairly fresh, too. The unfortunate situation played out, and through something completely unexpected, I learned too much. And then the concern became more than just a feeling, it destroyed me through confirmation. That was so bad that I nearly did something irreversible. Fortunately, I opted to simply ignore everything from that point forward. Soon after? The relationship was obliterated anyway. I knew such an event was on the horizon for months, and when I finally saw that the fear was justified, a part of me fell away and cannot return. Now? The trust is gone for good. I will not go into the machine again. That point has been made. What took place all those years ago still hurts, believe it or not, and left me angry. I still feel the same to this very second. Yep. Believe it. The wall will never, ever come down. Hopefully I won't turn into a complete fucking asshole over this. Alone is a given, but I don't want to be the asshole. Hmm... Maybe I already am. Fine. Last night's episode punched me in the face through phrasing uttered years earlier during a different series we had been following. It's not that big of a deal by this point, and relates to something I told the goddess weeks ago. My statement was difficult for her to accept, although what I am about to say will probably lead to more understanding of the genesis and situation. The fact is the trust cannot happen now because there is too much fucking fear. What others do not know is that the flip side of this is me not caring of what goes on inside. That's right... Such a feeling exists alongside the lack of the same. Get it? I only worry about what some people are thinking at any given moment. Others? I don't give a fuck. The idea lends to my current mindset and honestly adds to the available peace of mind. But the episode last night was a reminder of what took place many moons ago when I was forced to put two and two together and create an image I had not previously considered. Well, back then it was a problem and stuck in my craw for quite a while, whereas now I honestly do not care of the feelings. Whatever I am in these late days, honesty is at the top of my list. Bottom line? I know what I am not. Period. Fuck you. I can only be me. Those little cuts take a possibly hurtful situation for some and slam it right back into the forefront of society's apathetic attention span. Straight into the lights. Not good. I really did not feel surprise, though, because these days nothing is off limits. The whole shitaree is swirling in the bowl and awaiting the flush to complete its cycle. The jab was unexpected. This morning it is nearly gone, but I do remember. That right there is a fucking surprise. Heh. My memory sucks anymore. The point is I have changed dramatically in the last several years, and not all of it is bad. Surprising? Perhaps. I believe the reason is anger. I am on one side of a very thick line while the rest of society remains shoved to the opposite. The hideous downside is that I am beginning to think I will have to resort to stricter viewing in the future. I don't believe anything can be safe now, be it something which causes fear or pain, or possibly the media which makes me want to destroy everyone. I suppose time will tell. The 'two' is here for the duration, meaning I have no choice but to protect myself by slicing off pieces of life. I feel as if I am made of very thin glass these days. The tiniest reference or phrase sends me into a tailspin. Being this fragile is not good. Overly sensitive, and as I have stated on many an occasion, possibly too much so to survive around others. Mostly females, naturally. The reasons keep piling on top of each other and leave me constantly overanalyzing everything in life. Even the fucking media. Just last night while dinner was in the oven, I had an older film on which I used to really enjoy despite the imagery, yet I could no longer relax and become part of the scenery. All I did was wallow over what I was seeing and almost immediately fell back to that fucking night in the theatre twenty-three years back. The quiet phrase uttered from a seat in front of my position sent me down a little, and then as time passed it grew in importance and left me bereft of comfort while seeing almost anything play out on the screen. Too sensitive now. If that one moment carried with it a lifetime of difficulty in relating to females, what will happen in the future if I cannot find the strength to simply live with it? Every fucking time these days. More and more fragile with each passing moment. Not good, you say? I am forced to agree yet have no idea what to do. There was actually another, way the fuck back during the glow, but I do not remember falling apart like this. Three of us watching a movie, a few choice words and observations, yet there was no serious fallout. That tells me that the time passing has only made me more delicate. Again... Not good. Not by any stretch of the word. By the time the phrase was uttered in the theatre, things had become worse, but still not as bad as the present. I really covered things up back then. No one knew of anything. The only positive is that I was withdrawn to the point of nearly xenophobia. I spent so much time concerned with being seen by other people that any remaining issues were shoved to the back burner. There has to be a way out of this. So far, I am ill-equipped to help myself. And then the fucking Sean thing alongside one of my (past) favorite actors. That took any remaining wind out of my sails and eliminated enjoyment of his films. Isn't that nice? The movie last night held no less than three such actors, one of which being a point of contention back in early eleven. The conversation and reference sent me across the fucking country and into one of the most damaging, hellish conclusions imaginable. Remember my gallivanting with Andrea? Consider that entire affair as one big, fat defense mechanism. It drained me of not just money, but my will to be near other people. And I continued anyway. What a fucking idiot. I may never be able to watch many of the defining films any longer. On the heels of that shit? Professional football. Believe it. Fucked. I am even worse now. In pieces. Glass? Hmm... Maybe 'candy' glass. Look it up. Nearly ten in the morning and I am still sitting here. Compulsion anyone? Even after gushing in 'The Two' some weeks ago, there is always more. I cannot say enough about this fucking subject, and the one aspect of my life with the ability to seriously harm me. It is more powerful than anything, even the pull of sex. Overpowering, really. I forget nothing, and when summed? Too much. Too sensitive. My problem? I don't know. This is the most difficulty I have ever experienced. It is to such a degree as nothing before. More and more and more all the time. Does this come across as dire? I hope so. I may be avoiding specifics, but the underlying trouble needs none. There are many bottom lines these days, not the least of which is the idea of my having become this through both the uncontrollable past and those words and actions of other people. Yes, I am partly at fault, but I am a very good person. Just a haunted person. More will take place, doubtless very soon. I know it because I constantly analyze everything. Yesterday during the show there was nearly an explosion. Fortunately, it was diffused before going bad. I very nearly took too much issue. The reality was a simple misunderstanding, yet I know why it happened. Me. My head. My fear. All of the worry. The fucking sensitivity which will no longer allow me to fully relax. More and more and more. If I can be at all prepared, that may help. Once alone, however, all hell will break loose. Being constantly on guard is fucking exhausting. The clues have been there for months, mostly since last spring. The two words, those references during a sport I loved, and countless little moments dating further back. I recall the bar -- not the one frequented by myself and the other guys -- a vastly different location, but little did I know at the time, the incident became an enormous and unavoidable precursor to other occasions in which one of my biggest fears (and a facet of the 'two' against which I am helpless to defend) sat almost next to me as my brain melted away. It still resounds to this very fucking second. Again... I can do nothing about it. I could not then, and certainly feel helpless now. Insurmountable fear all rolled up and tied with a bow. The details must be left out of this crap, too. If any backlash occurs, I will not survive. Exposure of my fear is worse than the situations which have played out in the past. Much worse. Everything must remain hidden away. Suffice to say, the morning in question and my subsequent fall now stands as even more disheartening than when it first took place. The worst part? I cannot discuss this with anyone for fear of being patronized, labeled, or possibly more. Clues. Little things here and there. When summed, they have become the worst aspect of my fucking life. One more time? I am helpless to push or guard against them. Everything remains deeply embedded within and the heft will eventually kill me. More and more and more. I see it, remember it, and know there is no end. I have finished the kitchen for the day. Very good. Underneath? Clues. I know what goes on. I really do. Nothing can be done. The 'two' is ruining me a little at a time. I wish there could be an outlet beyond this fucking ridiculous endeavor. Alas, I am not surprised. Nothing is new, nothing is remarkable, and there is no more up aside from my false front. It is way up. As I said, the kitchen is finished. Floor swept. I have very little left of the routine. Beyond it, I am hoping to care for more of what began yesterday. Afterward will be an unrelenting push to keep myself upright in whatever manner possible. Rising and moving about the house to complete anything these days is nearly beyond my ability. I have to push like never before. My head tells me to sit here and drink myself into oblivion and then simply fall on my face outside on the concrete. I doubt anyone would miss my bullshit. But I have to try, even with everything that has transpired and all those little fucking knives sticking out of my being, I must still try. All I do anymore is support others and push myself to feel deserving of the little enjoyments. Believe me when I say they are waning. Small. Still enough, though. Barely. Barely. I have to put this aside for some time. Too much writing lately. I tried to shorten the entries, too. The only difference was publishing more often. That is the same. There are still so many parts of life pushing me to type each day. I will try to take a break after this because I do not feel well at all. Distance, perhaps. I'll do my work and continue to hide myself away from the penetrating gaze of people. And now it is... Time to sell more of my stuff. I need to amass the resources again. The future remains uncertain save for one little fact: I will eventually go away because I cannot survive like this. As much as I have worsened since just last year, the fact is I've been able to hold up the huge facade thus far out of the strongest need of my life. It's still there. Heavy, enormous, and very tiring. I am fucking sick of it yet unable to change anything. Worsening, falling down over and over, and no one can hear it because I can't fucking say it. Inside I am screaming. Outside? Peachy. The strain is overwhelming. I will continue to go through the stupid motions and bring in as much money as possible. Daily work, too. I'll take care of everything and toe the line just as the last eleven months (years, really). As I have said many, many times... The little enjoyments are still there. Thank Christ. Look at Jamie again, all bright and full of wonder. She's been through tons of shit. Her health, bearing children, and the weight of being famous. But that wondrous smile never leaves. Bless her for whatever inspiration she can provide. Not enough. No hope, faith, or anything else. Nothing left, just as I stated at the top. Everything is either gone or ruined. The future holds more of the same. Last summer was the beginning of the end as I began to see where I am going. Traveling across a wasteland of memories and cuts, the likes of which I had never imagined. The other end of this wasteland is the end of my association with people. The only way. There is no machine. Blue dress burned. 'Kill me... Kill me; kill me; kill me; kill me (whispering)... Kill me; kill me'. -- Gloria Trillo 316 now. Hopefully when that number reaches zero there will be heroin on my lips. She is out there."
Nth Degree Difficulty
Mature content No. 223 Published February 18th, 2021 11:46am pst read ( words) Past entries
"This is never going to leave me. I have no fucking faith left. Beware this entry.
'If the war inside my head; Won't take a day off, I'll be dead.' -- Dave Mustaine
Once again, 2-16. One day away from the eleven month mark since the first shelter order and I am no better for the time. I have already outlined the facts related to work, the only other issue at the forefront being feelings toward myself with regard to desire. There is no stopping, slowing, anything. The woman yesterday is slightly related. Slightly. Right now I am at a loss in more ways than one. The daily routine is finished. I have one more item on the list to care for and then I can go outside the norm and work with whatever seems most important. All the while my head is in bad shape -- like two miles of torn up roadway -- with the effort to keep myself intact at an all-time high. So far I've kept the brain in check today which is helping to raise my spirits despite the underlying issues. One, two, and four are right behind my eyes, with three coming up here and there due to some conversation the other day. This is going to be the most tedious and toilsome number of hours in memory. I am falling down. The fourth show is on again. I need that universe to show me possibility. Ok, I pushed and succeeded. The issues may push back, however I will not let them take over. The situation today is so bad that I cannot even put it into words. I don't have them. Maybe I completed the daily chores too early and left myself too much free time during the storm in my head. I may have to resort to the dire nature of loud music and electrical work in the garage. Right now I may not have an alternative. Such behavior has worked in the past. The show is helping. That one episode with the imagery and difficulty is behind now. The season has advanced, and even if I go back to the beginning, the one troubling vision will be weeks in the future. Any good right now is so important to my survival that I must take heed. This is bad. Conversation could ease the turmoil... Maybe, although I cannot be certain. Conversation means revealing things, and that is frightening. God damn all this shit anyway. I've had enough for a lifetime. And the past trauma is only slightly related. There is more. Much more. The oldest male character in this episode is featured several times throughout the last two seasons. I recall first knowing of the actor some years ago and holding tremendous appreciation for his work. Being partially cybernetic would seem to be difficult, but he always appeared fluid and effective. I hate to say it, but he is part of the problem. And this time I am not only referring to the character, but the actor as well. Even his birth name is amazing. It makes me think of grand landscapes, possibility, and the thrall of being a part of something wonderful... None of which applies to me any longer. Not his fault. Like the male bartender in the fiction, he is merely a symbol. My life is shrinking. Bad. I can't even spell out what is going on today. None of it. The entire shitaree is too personal to lay out on the fucking Internet. And as much as I would love to write (and have written) in privacy, nothing has ever helped me in the least. Not a fucking word. My only acceptable option right now is to continue veiling the subjects. This has been an ongoing issue ever since Ashley. Yes, THAT Ashley. More than seventeen years ago I was held close and told things I never thought possible. I have become a product of both her words and my own damned existence. Her words have not resounded, though. Not even close. No one feels (or seems to feel) as she did so long ago. Andrea was heading toward similar feelings but the time was too fucking Goddamned short. They are both gone for good. I may be gone, too. Out of my fucking mind. Make no mistake, this is worse than ever. I have placed some very harsh words here since last spring, but what is coming makes even my brain cringe, and the artwork I saw yesterday is being quickly destroyed. Ashley's words caused my thinking to change and the manner in which she communicated thoughts to me was magical. I need such feelings to return. Pause. Lindsay said she wished to attack each day, possess it. I cannot do that. The days are controlling me, and for a person who wishes little other than control at any given moment, this is not a good situation. I am having so much difficulty today that I don't even have a clue as to how I made it this far. I really don't. Something happened within the past eleven months to send me downward like never before and I don't know how to avoid the feelings of being left to the devices which have held me at their mercy for so many years. As sad as it may sound, I cannot survive this current situation. There is no way out any longer. A matter of time, nothing more. The issues are actually taking a back seat this afternoon to the prime crap which has literally been the same for more years than I care to admit. Today was almost unacceptable. I did the usual work and some dry cleaning, after which I thought a movie with lunch would be a good idea. Well, that went bad. I ended up wallowing and ran out of energy. It wasn't lunch, either. It was the usual bullshit from the past and the manner in which it has shaped me in the last several months. I went through a protracted description some time ago regarding the machine, and I have to admit it took over for a good portion of the afternoon. I actually had to force myself up and around the house to get the imagery and dreams out of my head. This is happening far too often for me to function normally. I never know when the feelings are going to take over and knock me on my sorry ass. Damn. As good as I have felt about myself this past year, sometimes nothing is enough to pull me out of the fucking din. I did it, though, and the effort nearly broke me in half. This brings me to tomorrow. I simply must rise above today and go beyond the typical alone hours and my routine. I have to. The alternative is likely worse than today. I made it out, though. That is one positive, at the very least. One part of today which I noticed after falling down is the fact that the woman from yesterday entered my head and would not leave. Her appearance at the time was overwhelming and led me to feel a strong desire, just like that damned thong in Vegas. I cannot have things like that taking over my day. Nothing good will come of it and the realization is such that I feel weaker than ever over the idea of the obsession. Years of torment never led to desire until recently. I don't understand, unless the barren period is beginning to drive my deviant sense of need beyond control. I just don't know right now. More analysis may be on tap. I honestly do not like any of this shit and none of it will help me deal with anything else. Change making changes. Put yourself to the ground. I don't believe I mentioned enough of what has been going down the drain. Much there, for sure. Almost everything in life now. This weakened state often keeps me on my ass for hours at a time, and even when I gather the strength to get up and do something productive, the desire remains and derails any clear thinking or concentration. The situation is worse than I had thought back in November. Hard to believe.
For the time being, I need to completely eliminate one aspect of my day, especially considering the sheer heft if the fucking machine dream. It takes me out of the world and sends my head south more quickly than any other part of life. The pull becomes too much. Unfortunately, I am all too often at the mercy of the past wonder and wish it could come to pass again. I don't know, though. And part of the problem is my current situation within this damned house. Most of the time I am bereft of anything in line with all I have dreamed. The understanding was mentioned recently, and despite my unwillingness to go into detail, the fact is I can only push so much. The out of balance nature of my personality will not allow for anything to be even. Others simply will not get it. So, I remain muted. Gleaning has taken place throughout the past year or so, however I am so fucking ambiguous about anything sensitive that all I receive are confused expressions. Not surprising. I honestly pity anyone who enters into a conversation with yours truly. I really do. I don't like falling down as today. I hate it, in fact, although I do still try to consider such feelings as a normal course of life. Sometimes it helps, other times not so much. No choice there, really. Or, little choice. The strength required after years of turmoil is tremendous. I cannot stress that enough. 2-17. Yesterday must be erased completely. Wiped off the radar. It was bad. I can't have that again. Jamie was going to be included in the previous entry but I decided against it. So, here she is. Big deal. Nothing is exciting anymore. After last night's glimpse of a key film from the glowing years and what it meant at the time, I am once again at a hell of a loss. Oh, dinner went fine and the episode was brilliant like always, but all the while inside I was being crushed again. The domes, the restaurants, and the feelings of that period once again took me away and dropped me in the middle of the same territory as the big electronics stores. There is little to nothing I can do about this anymore. Those years are becoming more important with each passing day. I recall Tony saying something which was then categorized as a realization that we have come in 'at the end of something wonderful, possibly after'. I cannot disagree. Sean Young scares me for some reason. I've always thought of her as pretty but could not put my finger upon why. She's tall, fairly exaggerated, yet there is a feeling when I see her, like she is a person to be avoided on the screen. It may be due to one role (not her, but the entire film now) in the past in which I became overly sensitive to something during the story and then felt the need to stay away. Her character did it, too. Not the actor. And her costar didn't help at all. He was a favorite of the eighties and nineties -- and a person I went through holy hell to see on occasion -- that I cannot watch any longer. There might be one film still ok, but the lion's share is going to make me withdraw. It's bad, and sprung up more in the last six months than any other time since discovering those older films. I have nothing against Sean or any of the others, though. This is all me. Think of my worry as a facet of the 'two'. After yesterday, I am more sensitive than throughout the last dozen years. I did it to myself. 'Some sort of Goddamn trouble here, Jerome?' That fucking Sean thing from years ago may have been more key than I had realized at the time. I honestly cannot recall exactly when I was viewing the film, though. One certainty is a set of differing conversations years ago with a person I cannot name. She was quite sensitive to the opposite sex, very understanding of both sides of any issue, and actually helped things more than she hindered. Well, sometimes. She was also an enormous problem for reasons I cannot go into here. Suffice to say she boosted me a bit when I became full of worry. The Sean Young thing never really materialized into anything serious due to her support. It remained in the background. Having been reminded of that moment and the massive weight of the dialog (including too many fucking references to list here), the whole situation is once again taking up residence inside me. I've dealt with this type of thing before. As I said, with her it was eased somewhat, although there were times when I damned-near asked very pointed questions about her past but then shied away. The fact was I had been intimidated yet there seemed no resolution to it. I tried to go into it and the idea was squashed quickly. I discovered more evidence too, however by that point in time none of it mattered any longer. We were doomed anyway. There was no saving that dysfunctional crap. To this very day the issue remains inside as one of the most conjectured fucking subjects in existence. And yes, it is attached to the 'two'. Currently there is nothing I can do about it. Seeing Sean this morning carries two distinct emotions... Fear and appreciation. Unfortunately, I am to the point in which fear ruins everything. The appreciation has been minimized. That much more difficulty piled atop everything else of which I am afraid. Sean always played a very strong, forthright character, too. That did not help, but such is the film industry. If she were standing before me at this moment I would likely head straight out the back door to get away. Any one of her characters could be the most kind, caring and sensitive woman in the world and it would not matter in the least. I would dash. Not her fault. Mine. This is the very taproot of the 'two'. Yes, I said that. No matter what takes place for the remainder of my life, the Sean thing will limit me in too many ways to list. It is insurmountable, one of the most nauseating fears in the world, and something I have tried over and over to get around, but to no avail. All that is required is the tiniest reference -- God forbid from a woman -- and I am finished for a very long period of time. The beginning of the 'two', the one which relates to every fear, the worst of everything. Sean popped up in this funny movie this morning and her face reminded me of the very beginning of the shit. And keep in mind this one detail spirals out and into everything else. All of it. From the trouble last year, the year before, my time in the cave, and all of the little shreds of information gleaned from many conversations and virtually every aspect of media. It all pushes, constantly. Yep... That's how fucking sad I am right now. One little shot of Sean's big, beautiful eyes and a ton of shit came flowing through the spillway. Maybe I'll sell everything so I can hide myself forever. Wow, lots of space for that fucking problem. The reminder just drove it. I need to get past this today. The alternative will be my ass in the car and driving somewhere away from other people for a time. I simply must rise enough to function today. Wow, that was something. During the glow, I never considered such things as being very important. Now? The worry steers the ship of my life on these dangerous waters. It drives every fucking aspect of every fucking day. I can sit here and lay this out until the cows come home but nothing ever changes. The example today is rising from bed and realizing yesterday was not good so I have to make today better. And then I see Sean's face (again, not her fucking fault... Just a reference point) and go on all morning about a problem which likely began with words emanating from her mouth in a film. Of all things, my love for the industry and the nature of a required suspension of disbelief should railroad everything. But no, I am too intelligent for that and relate anything difficult to myself, immediately. Time to pause, thank God. My head is inside-out and bleeding. I can't talk to anyone in person because I will eventually come across as accusatory. Not fair. No one in my life is to blame for this shit, nor are they to be held accountable for independent thought. Again... Unfair. Right now I see no way to deal with something so hurtful other than continuing to spout here. Well, I do plan to tear into some shit later when the coffee is gone, although the temperature in the garage is less than comfortable. Perhaps keeping busy will warm me from the inside. That movie is on again. The one in which I had been looking around all of the decor of their house and reminiscing about the way our homes appeared many years ago. I was very young, so decor meant nothing other than some posters of bands in my bedroom. But now... Totally different. The rooms appear warm and cozy with so much wood and carpeting. I recall those early home designs in which streams ran through rooms, under little bridges here and there, and a few of the walls were stone and had greenery all over them. I bring those up because the movie premiered at a time when the issues were few -- mostly one in particular, which I can do exactly nothing about aside from removing the problem -- and I looked at the years ahead as adventurous, not trials. At present, I see little adventure anymore. As related to speaking with someone about the crap pushing me down, back then I had no reason, whereas now it almost feels necessary but I cannot do it. I have no wish to be unfair, yet such behavior will happen, sure as hell. I am buried too deeply now. A little bit of conversation, words heading into clear territory -- the opposite of all this ambiguity -- and I will fall apart. I'll end up worse off because everything will be out in the open and the fear of what that person may be thinking will fucking kill me, sure as hell.
Not Sean's fault, nor the movie, other actors, the dialog... None of it. Just a reference which happened to cause a very weakened soul to break apart. As related to one and three, this will eventually ruin me. No way around it. Do you see how the content always seems to drift toward such a subject? How many times? This is the most difficulty I have ever experienced. Add to it the shit from more than four decades back and the sum is unavoidable. Here come those fucking dancers I mentioned before. The scene is supposed to be funny -- and it is for the most part -- although my head will not allow me to relax and laugh. Just like the other film with Tom and the server at a club (part of his bachelor party, I think), everything begins to spin and I feel small. And that even brings up a scene from the current series we have been following each night at dinner. More reinforcement of the fear. Society, conjecture, everything. From two to three and back again like a carousel built by Satan himself. Splendid. Whatever. This movie cannot be avoided. I simply have too much respect and appreciation for Michael's work. Overall, it's fine. Almost worth it. The house itself stands as a good portion of the draw. I really love that older stuff. I'm going to get away from this for a while. The coffee is waning and I need to make myself busy. The difficulty is still multiplying like rabbits from hell, all the while trying to push me into a small space like yesterday. I cannot have that. Force. I have to push now. Stop. Daily business finished. Very good. I also went to the big cabinets in the garage and reorganized a little. It's a start. Right now I am compelled to continue in this most difficult of veins. I read a while back about the male ego being possibly the most fragile 'thing' in existence. One word out of place, a threatening reference, or some other type of passive insensitivity can crush it for all time. That may have happened in the past, and if so, there is nary a possibility of reconstruction. Once broken, only temporary fixes can be accomplished. The depth of the fracture will remain forever. I believe I am at such a point so as to be constantly reminded of whatever took the strength away, and every single day holds one or more small bits of memories. It is gone now, never to return. Just like anything completely unique in the world, only one was fashioned from experiences and it cannot be replaced. There were stories of a few different individuals recalling their respective pasts, each with a very pointed situation in which the ego took a blow and removed any possibility of growth. Read this paragraph again, research the topic, and perhaps you will reach the realization just as I have. Learn, please. Some people are beyond repair for good reason. One story in particular gripped me and took hold. I cannot mention specifics, however. Everything I am trying to convey here is just too controversial and revealing to go into detail. And I will not fucking apologize, either. Live with it, and say it with me... 'Domain ownership and privately-held space'. The fact is that one individual had overheard something at a party which struck a nerve, eventually wracking said individual with fear around women. Very bad. I feel for that person but there is nothing I can do about it. Many occasions throughout the last decade have shown me reasons to place the blame on females, but the truth is they are not at fault. Not in the least. Males have commanded since the dawn of human life and continue to run amok. Not good. I cannot sit here and go into the development of society, though, because I am not well-enough versed in cultural anthropology. The fact is this, and I must return to the very beginning of wisdom: I do not know. One fact I DO know is that placing blame anywhere is ignorant. We are all human, period. Oy, fuck me is that ever a touchy subject. At least my head is not so fucked up that I begin to generalize. Such behavior is never good and causes so much harm at times that I am hesitant to even mention differences between the sexes. I may be attacked, labeled, or God-knows-what else. Bottom line? I am too intelligent and open-minded to allow the errors of society to jade me. I am trying to deal with myself, not everyone. Still recoiling like never before. Hopefully this does not cripple me for all time. I must continue to do what I can toward improvement and/or understanding. Even if nothing bears significant fruit, I must try. The degree to which this bullshit has influenced my life is now immeasurable. Fourth show again. All of my stuff is finished, including cleaning the bathroom. Very nice. I have a lunch date so everything must be in order before she arrives. I don't even feel hungry after chewing on the past all day long. I wish that was funny. Eating my words? Never. I rarely backpedal. What to do? Keep selling my possessions in hopes of being able to disappear? Unlikely. And not fun. The article mentioned above was a study, and a good one. I had not realized the weight of what can take place when a person is young, no matter their sex. And others have little clue, either. At that age, nothing seems dire or permanent. Only much later in life can we realize the depth of what may have taken place while young. Stop. 2-18, early. Yesterday was productive. I accomplished much, even after having lunch and watching some of the show. She took off to return to work and rather than sitting here for a while until the other one arrived home, I took my ass out there and worked. One little polish of the lunch crap in the kitchen and a bunch of reorganization in the new office. The goddess returned after her shift and grabbed my old office chair, as well. Much more empty space now. I will continue today, although rearranging the master bedroom may take precedence. Not sure yet. I also need to continue my kitchen adventure of learning how many items I can wrap and store without leaving us sans necessities. Always interesting because the kitchen cabinets are few. Built close to seventy years ago, this place. I can't help but think of all I've learned in the last several years, some of which began with the woman I mentioned above. Yep, her again. The toughest period in memory also carried with it a boatload of education for yours truly. She was well-versed in many aspects of life, often resulting in our conversations bordering upon the philosophical. Very interesting, to be sure. Whenever I became headstrong and threw out some issues which I believed began to tilt everything thousands of years ago, she would sit on it and think a while before coming back to me with the reasoning. And some of that did not originate in the books, either. She formulated and then attached where we are now to those ancient periods, along with the current behaviors as related to what we see and do in modern daily life. Fascinating, even though she shot me down quite often. Our discussions were wrought with trouble, though. There was always an inkling that I knew what she was thinking and she constantly worried that I wanted her physically. Thus, everything carried with it an underlying discomfort which never left. And her distance forced me to worry almost every moment. My head manufactured all sorts of trouble. Being alone in that little cave for all those many months had me overly preoccupied with imagining what she may have been thinking at any given time. We seldom spoke in person during that summer, too, meaning I could only wonder what had been happening. Add my past to such a situation and the result may be obvious. I felt threatened by the unknown. My brain would not leave it. No resting, no rationalizing, no help whatsoever up there all alone for months on end. I clung to what little messaging we exchanged, nothing more. The scars of the eighties became inflamed for a time before letting up on me. They are now bleeding. All these years after that troubling period with tons of stability in between, and I am worse.
I am losing this battle. Today I need to keep my head out of the difficulty, if at all possible. There is plenty to do, as well. I can work on whatever is most pressing and hopefully come out the other side feeling accomplished. It happened yesterday and can happen again. I know it. Confidence? Not yet... I need to get there first. The last few weeks I've spent time with the fourth show in the background, however I wish to watch the second. I just don't know if I can because late last year were a couple of stings related to it. One will never go away, and the other may be dealt with slowly. Right now I don't know. I'll give it a try once this machine is closed for the morning and see what develops. Nothing can be as bad as the Sean thing, for sure. Knowing such a fact does help sometimes, but still those two situations which were quick and painful are still inside and always at the ready. I also need to remind myself of yesterday, a time in which I took to the work in the late afternoon and finished feeling better. Sometimes the chores become hopeful. The machine would negate everything. Ugh. Breathing. What took place may have been a combination of events in quick succession. I'm not sure because so much time has passed that everything seems foggy. That is a lot of years, meaning the sources are so far detached from the present that there is nothing I can do about it. Plenty of people have told me the best course is to try letting go and moving forward, however I have not been able to rise due to those very same people effectively reinforcing the bad without realizing the consequences. Well, fuck it anyway. I said before that I am weaker now than ever, and no words from a stray mind are going to chip that away. Not possible. If anything changes, it must be from within. Unfortunately, the hits just keep on catching the side of my head and those very same individuals are the ones swinging. And that sends us into a gray area. Requiring anyone to alter themselves for my benefit is completely unfair. And it likely would lead to rampant resentment as well as even more wondering what may be going on inside. I cannot have that, and I cannot be unfair. Well, I already am to a point, but the reasoning is critical to my survival and I believe the difference is understood. I do the same thing. Sometimes. I've said over and over that if I change too much and end up a different person, something unique could be lost. The same goes for any person. I will not only resist with each breath, but I will also push that they remain themselves. There is no other way. Not anymore. Whatever has happened, none of it is the fault of any person living now. Period. Another path is necessary, yet I have not the first clue as to which way to turn. Unfair. Could it be the way out of this? Or would it only lead to more worry? I look, I watch, I hear... Still nothing helps. I cannot fucking KNOW, and the past is hindering my effort. There have been too many occasions. One is fairly fresh, too. The unfortunate situation played out, and through something completely unexpected, I learned too much. And then the concern became more than just a feeling, it destroyed me through confirmation. That was so bad that I nearly did something irreversible. Fortunately, I opted to simply ignore everything from that point forward. Soon after? The relationship was obliterated anyway. I knew such an event was on the horizon for months, and when I finally saw that the fear was justified, a part of me fell away and cannot return. Now? The trust is gone for good. I will not go into the machine again. That point has been made. What took place all those years ago still hurts, believe it or not, and left me angry. I still feel the same to this very second. Yep. Believe it. The wall will never, ever come down. Hopefully I won't turn into a complete fucking asshole over this. Alone is a given, but I don't want to be the asshole. Hmm... Maybe I already am. Fine. Last night's episode punched me in the face through phrasing uttered years earlier during a different series we had been following. It's not that big of a deal by this point, and relates to something I told the goddess weeks ago. My statement was difficult for her to accept, although what I am about to say will probably lead to more understanding of the genesis and situation. The fact is the trust cannot happen now because there is too much fucking fear. What others do not know is that the flip side of this is me not caring of what goes on inside. That's right... Such a feeling exists alongside the lack of the same. Get it? I only worry about what some people are thinking at any given moment. Others? I don't give a fuck. The idea lends to my current mindset and honestly adds to the available peace of mind. But the episode last night was a reminder of what took place many moons ago when I was forced to put two and two together and create an image I had not previously considered. Well, back then it was a problem and stuck in my craw for quite a while, whereas now I honestly do not care of the feelings. Whatever I am in these late days, honesty is at the top of my list. Bottom line? I know what I am not. Period. Fuck you. I can only be me. Those little cuts take a possibly hurtful situation for some and slam it right back into the forefront of society's apathetic attention span. Straight into the lights. Not good. I really did not feel surprise, though, because these days nothing is off limits. The whole shitaree is swirling in the bowl and awaiting the flush to complete its cycle. The jab was unexpected. This morning it is nearly gone, but I do remember. That right there is a fucking surprise. Heh. My memory sucks anymore. The point is I have changed dramatically in the last several years, and not all of it is bad. Surprising? Perhaps. I believe the reason is anger. I am on one side of a very thick line while the rest of society remains shoved to the opposite. The hideous downside is that I am beginning to think I will have to resort to stricter viewing in the future. I don't believe anything can be safe now, be it something which causes fear or pain, or possibly the media which makes me want to destroy everyone. I suppose time will tell. The 'two' is here for the duration, meaning I have no choice but to protect myself by slicing off pieces of life. I feel as if I am made of very thin glass these days. The tiniest reference or phrase sends me into a tailspin. Being this fragile is not good. Overly sensitive, and as I have stated on many an occasion, possibly too much so to survive around others. Mostly females, naturally. The reasons keep piling on top of each other and leave me constantly overanalyzing everything in life. Even the fucking media. Just last night while dinner was in the oven, I had an older film on which I used to really enjoy despite the imagery, yet I could no longer relax and become part of the scenery. All I did was wallow over what I was seeing and almost immediately fell back to that fucking night in the theatre twenty-three years back. The quiet phrase uttered from a seat in front of my position sent me down a little, and then as time passed it grew in importance and left me bereft of comfort while seeing almost anything play out on the screen. Too sensitive now. If that one moment carried with it a lifetime of difficulty in relating to females, what will happen in the future if I cannot find the strength to simply live with it? Every fucking time these days. More and more fragile with each passing moment. Not good, you say? I am forced to agree yet have no idea what to do. There was actually another, way the fuck back during the glow, but I do not remember falling apart like this. Three of us watching a movie, a few choice words and observations, yet there was no serious fallout. That tells me that the time passing has only made me more delicate. Again... Not good. Not by any stretch of the word. By the time the phrase was uttered in the theatre, things had become worse, but still not as bad as the present. I really covered things up back then. No one knew of anything. The only positive is that I was withdrawn to the point of nearly xenophobia. I spent so much time concerned with being seen by other people that any remaining issues were shoved to the back burner. There has to be a way out of this. So far, I am ill-equipped to help myself. And then the fucking Sean thing alongside one of my (past) favorite actors. That took any remaining wind out of my sails and eliminated enjoyment of his films. Isn't that nice? The movie last night held no less than three such actors, one of which being a point of contention back in early eleven. The conversation and reference sent me across the fucking country and into one of the most damaging, hellish conclusions imaginable. Remember my gallivanting with Andrea? Consider that entire affair as one big, fat defense mechanism. It drained me of not just money, but my will to be near other people. And I continued anyway. What a fucking idiot. I may never be able to watch many of the defining films any longer. On the heels of that shit? Professional football. Believe it. Fucked. I am even worse now. In pieces. Glass? Hmm... Maybe 'candy' glass. Look it up.
Nearly ten in the morning and I am still sitting here. Compulsion anyone? Even after gushing in 'The Two' some weeks ago, there is always more. I cannot say enough about this fucking subject, and the one aspect of my life with the ability to seriously harm me. It is more powerful than anything, even the pull of sex. Overpowering, really. I forget nothing, and when summed? Too much. Too sensitive. My problem? I don't know. This is the most difficulty I have ever experienced. It is to such a degree as nothing before. More and more and more all the time. Does this come across as dire? I hope so. I may be avoiding specifics, but the underlying trouble needs none. There are many bottom lines these days, not the least of which is the idea of my having become this through both the uncontrollable past and those words and actions of other people. Yes, I am partly at fault, but I am a very good person. Just a haunted person. More will take place, doubtless very soon. I know it because I constantly analyze everything. Yesterday during the show there was nearly an explosion. Fortunately, it was diffused before going bad. I very nearly took too much issue. The reality was a simple misunderstanding, yet I know why it happened. Me. My head. My fear. All of the worry. The fucking sensitivity which will no longer allow me to fully relax. More and more and more. If I can be at all prepared, that may help. Once alone, however, all hell will break loose. Being constantly on guard is fucking exhausting. The clues have been there for months, mostly since last spring. The two words, those references during a sport I loved, and countless little moments dating further back. I recall the bar -- not the one frequented by myself and the other guys -- a vastly different location, but little did I know at the time, the incident became an enormous and unavoidable precursor to other occasions in which one of my biggest fears (and a facet of the 'two' against which I am helpless to defend) sat almost next to me as my brain melted away. It still resounds to this very fucking second. Again... I can do nothing about it. I could not then, and certainly feel helpless now. Insurmountable fear all rolled up and tied with a bow. The details must be left out of this crap, too. If any backlash occurs, I will not survive. Exposure of my fear is worse than the situations which have played out in the past. Much worse. Everything must remain hidden away. Suffice to say, the morning in question and my subsequent fall now stands as even more disheartening than when it first took place. The worst part? I cannot discuss this with anyone for fear of being patronized, labeled, or possibly more. Clues. Little things here and there. When summed, they have become the worst aspect of my fucking life. One more time? I am helpless to push or guard against them. Everything remains deeply embedded within and the heft will eventually kill me. More and more and more. I see it, remember it, and know there is no end. I have finished the kitchen for the day. Very good. Underneath? Clues. I know what goes on. I really do. Nothing can be done. The 'two' is ruining me a little at a time. I wish there could be an outlet beyond this fucking ridiculous endeavor. Alas, I am not surprised. Nothing is new, nothing is remarkable, and there is no more up aside from my false front. It is way up. As I said, the kitchen is finished. Floor swept. I have very little left of the routine. Beyond it, I am hoping to care for more of what began yesterday. Afterward will be an unrelenting push to keep myself upright in whatever manner possible. Rising and moving about the house to complete anything these days is nearly beyond my ability. I have to push like never before. My head tells me to sit here and drink myself into oblivion and then simply fall on my face outside on the concrete. I doubt anyone would miss my bullshit. But I have to try, even with everything that has transpired and all those little fucking knives sticking out of my being, I must still try. All I do anymore is support others and push myself to feel deserving of the little enjoyments. Believe me when I say they are waning. Small. Still enough, though. Barely. Barely. I have to put this aside for some time. Too much writing lately. I tried to shorten the entries, too. The only difference was publishing more often. That is the same. There are still so many parts of life pushing me to type each day. I will try to take a break after this because I do not feel well at all. Distance, perhaps. I'll do my work and continue to hide myself away from the penetrating gaze of people. And now it is... Time to sell more of my stuff. I need to amass the resources again. The future remains uncertain save for one little fact: I will eventually go away because I cannot survive like this. As much as I have worsened since just last year, the fact is I've been able to hold up the huge facade thus far out of the strongest need of my life. It's still there. Heavy, enormous, and very tiring. I am fucking sick of it yet unable to change anything. Worsening, falling down over and over, and no one can hear it because I can't fucking say it. Inside I am screaming. Outside? Peachy. The strain is overwhelming. I will continue to go through the stupid motions and bring in as much money as possible. Daily work, too. I'll take care of everything and toe the line just as the last eleven months (years, really). As I have said many, many times... The little enjoyments are still there. Thank Christ. Look at Jamie again, all bright and full of wonder. She's been through tons of shit. Her health, bearing children, and the weight of being famous. But that wondrous smile never leaves. Bless her for whatever inspiration she can provide. Not enough. No hope, faith, or anything else. Nothing left, just as I stated at the top. Everything is either gone or ruined. The future holds more of the same. Last summer was the beginning of the end as I began to see where I am going. Traveling across a wasteland of memories and cuts, the likes of which I had never imagined. The other end of this wasteland is the end of my association with people. The only way. There is no machine. Blue dress burned. 'Kill me... Kill me; kill me; kill me; kill me (whispering)... Kill me; kill me'. -- Gloria Trillo 316 now. Hopefully when that number reaches zero there will be heroin on my lips. She is out there."
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