I hate emotional people. No, I'm not going to specify precisely what I mean by "emotional people." I can't see how they are as anything but a character flaw. How could it be good or even just neutral to judge so much by how it makes one feel? I hate being bathed in the sappy light of their emotional reactions, I hate having my true intentions buried underneath the variegated trash heap of their emotional projections. How often do they see the world for what it really is, rather than seeing it how they are?
All of my interactions with them make me bitter. I don't understand them; their reactions seem random. The best I can do is expect them to be upset about everything. I can't tell them from any other sort of person, so I've no satisfactory way to avoid them. I hate the feeling of walking on eggshells with people. I used to think that it was like dealing with children, but, upon further reflection, children are actually less emotional, and they do not read into everything and expect shady motives behind everything.
I didn't even really want to do what I did. I was happy with my new hobby, studying Japanese. I hardly ever feel lonely anymore, sex drive is all but gone. But I told myself, just do it. You may not feel like you need anyone now, but what about the future? Go for it. Be more balanced than you are when you are studying languages for eight hours a day.
So I did it, and incurred the bitterest of regrets, and the fact that I didn't even want to do it is the bitterest irony. I want to be done. I have something to lose; this isn't a no-big-deal, get back up on the horse kind of thing. I can't keep having these episodes because they never leave me. They roll around in my mind for weeks, months, even years. I cannot forget. They come back to me, pop into my mind at random moments. And the anger, the chaotic feeling of something gone wrong, out of my control, without my knowing why, the shock and confusion, the sense of violation, being dressed up in someone else's projections and powerless to stop it, my mind's poor wheels spinning fruitlessly, trying to figure out why, trying to read minds, barreling heedlessly down a dead-end road, unable to brake on the knowledge that no answers will be forthcoming, those feelings come back with the memory.
These memories pile up, one after another, and drive me insane. I can't keep having them. I don't get over it. I wish that I could forget, but I don't know how to force my mind to let it go. I have plenty of other things to worry about in my life, but still, the memories find corners in which to take up residence.
And the great part is, if I try again, I have to hide this part of myself. Can't let the bitterness show, no matter what it's done to me. If I do, I run the risk of ruining the situation to the point where I've got yet another embittering episode on my hands! It's kind of humorous, viewed that way.
I still have my plan of living off in the woods if I get SSI. I'm going to force myself away from this, at least for a long while, and go ahead with that plan. I know it's supposedly not "normal" and "healthy," but I have to do what I can with my life. I can keep sucking on lemons, or I can make a watered down lemonade. I feel good when I'm alone, and like crap when with others. It's that simple. It would be foolish of me to continuously do things that make me miserable, no matter how much the elusive potential results are a human "need." We don't all get what we need; I'll just be another one of that lot. That's life. I'll take it.
All of my interactions with them make me bitter. I don't understand them; their reactions seem random. The best I can do is expect them to be upset about everything. I can't tell them from any other sort of person, so I've no satisfactory way to avoid them. I hate the feeling of walking on eggshells with people. I used to think that it was like dealing with children, but, upon further reflection, children are actually less emotional, and they do not read into everything and expect shady motives behind everything.
I didn't even really want to do what I did. I was happy with my new hobby, studying Japanese. I hardly ever feel lonely anymore, sex drive is all but gone. But I told myself, just do it. You may not feel like you need anyone now, but what about the future? Go for it. Be more balanced than you are when you are studying languages for eight hours a day.
So I did it, and incurred the bitterest of regrets, and the fact that I didn't even want to do it is the bitterest irony. I want to be done. I have something to lose; this isn't a no-big-deal, get back up on the horse kind of thing. I can't keep having these episodes because they never leave me. They roll around in my mind for weeks, months, even years. I cannot forget. They come back to me, pop into my mind at random moments. And the anger, the chaotic feeling of something gone wrong, out of my control, without my knowing why, the shock and confusion, the sense of violation, being dressed up in someone else's projections and powerless to stop it, my mind's poor wheels spinning fruitlessly, trying to figure out why, trying to read minds, barreling heedlessly down a dead-end road, unable to brake on the knowledge that no answers will be forthcoming, those feelings come back with the memory.
These memories pile up, one after another, and drive me insane. I can't keep having them. I don't get over it. I wish that I could forget, but I don't know how to force my mind to let it go. I have plenty of other things to worry about in my life, but still, the memories find corners in which to take up residence.
And the great part is, if I try again, I have to hide this part of myself. Can't let the bitterness show, no matter what it's done to me. If I do, I run the risk of ruining the situation to the point where I've got yet another embittering episode on my hands! It's kind of humorous, viewed that way.
I still have my plan of living off in the woods if I get SSI. I'm going to force myself away from this, at least for a long while, and go ahead with that plan. I know it's supposedly not "normal" and "healthy," but I have to do what I can with my life. I can keep sucking on lemons, or I can make a watered down lemonade. I feel good when I'm alone, and like crap when with others. It's that simple. It would be foolish of me to continuously do things that make me miserable, no matter how much the elusive potential results are a human "need." We don't all get what we need; I'll just be another one of that lot. That's life. I'll take it.
