one year ago ·
6 August 05

Yes that’s right it’s my one year anniversary. It’s sad, it’s shameful but it is. Actually it is 1 year and several months anniversary in reality. So I probably missed the date by about two months. That’s even more sad now.

Plus I’m losing my memory and I’m going no where really, really fast – so fast that when you see me go by, that your underwear turns into a bag of cucumbers. Hopefully you’re not wearing a G-string, beceause a cucumber, though cold and nice, can also be painful..so I hear.

I got fired from work about a year ago and since then I have been unemployed for about a year, though half that time has been in training, it’s still unemployment though. I think if I’m honest it’s all my fault. I mean that makes logical sense anyway. It wasn’t my fault that I got fired from work, and that I wrote about wanting to shag the senior manager, nor that they assumed by gif image was to state that I wanted to explode their heads – I only wanted to do that after just to prove them right, even though they were wrong.

The hospitals, the doctors – they also deserve blame. Four years ago I went to see psychiatrists who told me I was OK, but in a letter to my doctor told me I need to see a psychiatrist. Yes folks, apparently I’m telepathic. I can mind read what they wrote, what they intended to write, and what my doctor was thinking when I didn’t visit him for four years out of anger and hatred.

During those four years it was fucking tough, being normal, thinking normal thoughts – not wanting to cause a massacre – it was so easy though. Just grab someone by their neck, sitting right next to me and wring their neck until snapped. There’s a sexual drive, I think, when killing someone. But for me, it’s not about the sex thing, it’s more about cleanliness. This person is a cancer, so let’s remove the cancer. I don’t like that person, so time to flush that person, in order to remove the emotion of not liking someone. I’m not a pyscho though.

Then about 2 months back, possibly three, I went to see my doctor in a fit of rage and told him I needed someone to see. I wanted to kill him there and then. I saw the shrinks, told them my tale, they took a swab test to confirm that I hadn’t been drinking or taking drugs for the past six months. See, during the dix months I was off work intitially – I was getting drunk and stoned all the time. At least, that’s what I think I was doing, I don’t actually know what I did for those six months. I really don’t.

psychology isn’t so bad, it’s better than psychiatry where the real nut jobs are. In psychology I guess they deal with the less dangerous people, those that are hovering between the good and the bad, who just need guidance

So two months later, possibly three, and it’s been a years since I got fired, and it was the first time I ever got fired. It was kinda good in a way, feeling that. It’s like the first time I broke up with a girl, and I kept repeating that. Then I initiated a break up, by avoiding the girl I was “sort of” going out with, ignoring her and not talking to her. Then we sat on the bench near the eating area and she said, “I think we should break up”. It hit me hard, in some ways, because no one ever broke up with me before, and this was after all what I wanted. I enjoyed the pleasure of the pain, the rejection, the feelings of isolation, of being worthless and used – that is, no longer important to that person in that regard. Even after we broke up and I tried to be friends with her, I kept playing silly little games like getting her to shut her eyes and trying to kiss her. Or being in a lift with her and asking for one last kiss.

It was fucking crazy, I mean, I never felt this sort of stuff before. It was obviously the residual reminisence of wantiong to make it good again – being in denial and not accepting the reality of it. It was the first time and the last time I did that. I want to experience it, and I did, and it was fun but I wouldn’t want to do that again – you just lack control, and you follow your instincts by emotion – there’s no clear thought process or logic involved in wanting to get back together. She doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her, but emotionally there’s a need.

Thing was I didn’t want to go out with her, it was just a joke that became real. I even used to kiss her with my eyes open, looking the other way. And you know hen you can feel someone is looking in a certain direction. She hated it. It meant, however, that my strategy was working. I ensured that she saw me see her, and then run out of a room, as though she represented a plague.

We’re sort of “out of sight out of mind” friends now. We meet up, we’re around each other, embracing holding hands like good friends but in a nice way, rather than anything sexual. I don’t think about her, she doesn’t think about me, and it’s kinda cool. We rarely ever meet now though, which is okay too actually. At first I thought, what a shitty friend, but then I kinda thought, well fuck it, that’s life. I’m always glad to see her when I do.

I think if I’m honest it’s all my fault. I mean that makes logical sense anyway. It wasn’t my fault that I got fired from work, and that I wrote about wanting to shag the senior manager

When I went back to my doctor he said he would ensure that he actioned the letter which said I needed to see or have an appointment arranged with a psychologist – psychology isn’t so bad, it’s better than psychiatry where the real nut jobs are. In psychology I guess they deal with the less dangerous people, those that are hovering between the good and the bad, who just need guidance. There’s no chemical treatments involved, I think, as it is with psychiatry – the pop-a-pill profession.

I’m not better, when my days are bad, they’re worse than they were four years ago. I tell myself, “Please not now, please not now” as I talk to my depression to go away, for my anger to evaporate, for the sadness to melt. It doesn’t happen though, and it comes in waves – the first wave is realistion that it’s happening, the second wave is the acceptance that it is happening, the third wave is the coping with it – which itself comes in different strengths. Sometimes my depression starts small, and it grows and grows – I see it as a dark ocean that goes from small ripple to a large, back, towering tsunami.

My head phsyically feels as those it’s about to tear open, and give birth to a big fucking giant fist which is ripping to get out; to punch through from the inside out of my skull. Actually that’s the easy stuff. The hard stuff is when I have to curl up, my mouth starts to excrete something inside the gums; something foul, very acidic and sickening – it runs down my throat and makes me want to puke, but it also numbs me – it’s psychologoical though, obviously. My spine pulls inwards, I feel shivers through my body, I feel my eyes well up, I start to bite my arms to stay with reality, I try to think about the good in my life and I see it all shattered and replaced with darkness, the voice grows in my head, and it tells me what it always tells me. But again, this isn’t the worst of it, when the worst happens, I can’t even describe it because thinking about it alone is enough to fuck me up.

I haven’t even revised you know. I spent the last two days sleeping as I stayed up late in the mornings doing a whole lot of nothing. It’s already 2pm and I haven’t done shit all revision. I have 350 pages to get through which contain close to 400 questions that I need get down. I just don’t feel the motivation, the energy or the will to do it. I don’t know what it will take to make me happy, I can’t even fathom what will make me happy – not momentarily joyous, or horny, or laugh – but happy. In the world we live in, does it even exist?