The day was going so well. It’s the end of the week, work hasn’t been too stressful, and tonight is supposed to be fun.

One tiny fucking thing had to ruin it.

I can’t believe I almost broke down here. I can’t even cry, when it feels like letting go and bawling my eyes out would be the only way to get it all out of my system. I can only sit here, my eyes swollen and tired, and force myself to work. I don’t know how other people deal with their problems, because I’m not the only one. I just seem to be the only one who hasn’t come to terms with it all.

Am I just a naturally weak person? How are others, who seem to have gone through the same thing, not be affected by it? Will this ever go away?

Before, I simply hated. Then, for years, I believed that I came to terms with it. Now, I simply question why.

Why is it so hard for me to get over this?

Trolley left his Tuborg in my room tonight, but I purposely didn’t tell him so that I could have a chance to talk with him when he remembered where it was.

Coolest thing about a girlfriend who’s a registered massage therapist: general health and medical training means that she can distinguish between the different gaits and kinetics of the thirteen different Eternal Darkness characters.

Oh yeah, and the pro massages.

PRO.

Last week, Aaron and Karen got a nine-week old kitten, named Chaos. I had the pleasure of checking up on him over the weekend. He was extremely nervous about meeting me at first, but he eventually warmed up enough to play with a mousie that I once bought for Dolly. I can already start to see parts of his personality coming through; he’s a little shy, but really enjoys human attention, and can spend hours just batting things around.

Some people turn to pills and things
To help them through the day
To take them up or down or just
To ease the blues away
But me I really want to feel
The ups and downs of life so real
Happy or sad emotions reign
My tears flow just the same

—Lamb, I Cry

I had been trying to write this for nearly a month, but couldn’t get it down until I really listened to the lyrics of I Cry on the walk home past the power lines. I decided to split this up into two separate entries, after realizing that I have two similar ideas in my head, but two very distinct issues. Perhaps it just took a few extra rough days of work to force me to think about this. All the things falling apart that I have to fix, responsibilities, deadlines, and tons of other miscellaneous things are definitely making me think of ways to get the tension out of my arms and shoulders.

Sometimes, when I come home, all I want to do is get piss drunk or mindlessly stoned. Maybe go recklessly buy a bunch of things I don’t need, to make myself feel better for that little amount of time. Sometimes I just feel like doing something irrational, even though I have no idea what or why, simply because I believe it would get my mind of things. And yet I don’t do any of this, especially when I’m having a particularly bad day, because I don’t want to be dependent on anything.

I don’t want to rely on narcotics, or material goods, or self-mutilation, or anything at all to make myself feel better. I want to be sure that I can handle things, no matter what, on my own. I force myself to feel every stressful, miserable, forlorn emotion, so that I know that I can get through them.

Sometimes, every day can be a test. Music and writing are the only things that I allow myself.

And sometimes I have to tell myself that it’s enough.