Ramblings

The Spring semester is almost over. I still have not gone back to WOW. Any thoughts of going back are met with the prospect of seeing her there. I can't bare to see her with someone else. I guess its been about 5 month now, maybe 6, since last we spoke.

I am still isolated.

I've made a couple attempts to make a friend. One from school, and one that is an intern at anxiety therapy. After the apparent rejections I felt I must be such a monster. I don't think my own mother likes me.

They, the anxiety group, said I was funny, kind, intelligent... so why wouldn't someone want to be my friend. Yeah I know, anyone reading this blog sees the rant and whine, not the funny. All the nice things they said went out the door when the intern did not respond to email because it was company policy (keep in mind she agreed to it in the first place). I am such a great guy they say, yet....  whatever.


Something changed 5 months ago. I see couples at the store and I know I'll never have that. I am too different to have that.

Occasionally when my heart skips a beat, I encourage it to stop.

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I got into the 4 year college. Transferring in as a junior. One might wonder why I am even going with such depressed thoughts. I guess its because I have to do something. Perhaps there is a future for me somewhere. I won't find it by doing nothing, so I continue my education.

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No one was ever interested in my emotional state growing up. Both my mother and father were highly emotionally immature.

Mother would sometimes shake me hard and dare me to call social services on her. I never even thought about such a thing, yet she brought it up..

She took my two cats to the pound after my stepdad brought more attractive cats home.

She drove down the road as fast as she could with her head stuck out the window yelling while I tried to open the door and jump out.

My father chased her and her then boyfriend down the road, with me in the car, going over 100 mph.

Father told me I could talk about things, and used everything i said against her in an argument. She told me I could just go.

After the age of 11, I no longer belonged at home.

I layed on the ground, looking up into my mothers face. The belt was raised over her head with both hands. I dont remember if that was a dream or not. I remember it vividly though for some reason.

For years I spent most days in my room, aching. All they did was watch TV. Attempts to talk were met with "shhhh". So i just stayed in my bedroom, playing risk by myself on the floor.

Getting ready to go to the Christmas party, my mother was so tightly wound.... and mean. Once there, Mom turned into the perfect angel. At the family gathering, i sat in the corner, not moving at all, as silent tears streamed down my face. No one seemed to notice.

Through it all, only I knew. I was dying inside while she was praised for raising such a good son.

Now I am the outcast. The loner. She gets sympathy from others for the failure, the mentally ill person, I have become. Somehow she is the martyre, and I, the evil atheist.

In middle school i went to the school counselor. I sat there as he punched away letters in the keyboard waiting... waiting... as he said he would be right with me. We never did talk. My first panic attack was in middle school.

In my higih school junior year, I met my first love. I had never felt before what it was like for someone to be interested in me. The fear of losing her, is what cost me her.

Perhaps the fear of losing love, and the depth of need I have for it, is what makes me lose all loves.

I do not see a way out of this hell.

Im fighting myself just to not hurt myself.