Fucking misery
July 6, 2024I hate being in love
July 11, 2024I think like almost 30 seconds after my last post I went and picked up M and we spent 2 days drinking vodka. I’ve dated…a lot, in my life and never have I tried to make it work so poorly with someone as this M.
God, I wish I could go back to my early 30’s and tell myself like quick pick one of these, work on yourself because covid is coming and your 40’s are almost there.
It’s so dumb tho, like of course you are old with a gray beard so yeah, you miss them.
The 4th of july is over. It’s time to shave this terrible beard. Almost out of whiskey and beer. Rotary is calling, beard needs to leave, need to be active. I set the alarm for 7:30am tomorrow. I wish I had made coffee.
One more holiday and it’s the christmas rush, no time to be lonely, there is work to be done. Work tho, like…jesus, what am I even doing anymore.
I’ve been in almost a “call in your debts” kind of mode to almost try to shut down and do something else but like what even is something else now.
The…thing, the “thing” is i keep waiting for something to happen and I’m just waiting and it’s not happening, not because of any reason just…whatever.
I hate the whole “you make your own luck” when it comes to being happy. That fucking shit never works out. Ask the girl out, get thrown away. Naw, I’m going to, you start to enjoy the look of pity and disgust knowing you were going to be right that you weren’t right for them, self whatever, you were right.
Alarm set for 7:30a, shave the beard monday and get ready for the future for a few more weeks for another holiday. Boy do I wish I had made different choices.
Time to sweat it out for a week and feel the regrets. I’m going to do it tho and go to *** on *** and ask out the other M but like should you even do that. Just lay on the goddamn mat and work out. Even tho like what’s the fucking point of that. Get abs for crematorium, good fucking work.
M is now texting me telling me “i hope you feel better” like if you could just…whatever.
Wake up, shave after the pushups. You have nothing but sorrow around you because of the choices you made. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, don’t get back to M, don’t even try to flirt with the other M. How do you handle this, just medicate for a few weeks trying to get over it.
Suddenly the hatred starts to rush in. It’s silly but I start to feel like a battery. Cliche, get over it asshole.
Going to drink the rest of the whiskey, wake up tomorrow, fuck it.