Fuck me gently with a chainsaw

i was really wanting to go out play some pool, drink some beer and generally lose myself tonight. it didnt happen. the sheer thought of walking out and having to use my voice was just too daunting a task for me. i just couldnt seem to bring myself muster the energy to leave the house and relate to the real world. my patience for the real world has run dry.

i have stayed huddled up in my personal prison/sanctuary of the apartment that i have built for myself. after doing my grocery shopping this morning, i am set for a couple weeks and i only really need to leave the apartment for work. the place i go to to afford my solitude. i suppose it affords me some measure of relief from my introspective depression, going to work to bring light to other peoples lives. my survival depends on the outings of my employment. the opportunity to lose myself in other peoples problems and turn that turmoil of theirs into something much happier so that they leave feeling better than they did when they came in.

it usually works the same for me too, but my overwhelming notion of eventual failure keeps me from leaving feeling any better than i did when i got there. the more i look around and try to compose myself to notice all the nuances of what i might have done wrong, or simply not done completely right, leaves me with the feeling of trepidation when i leave work that i have left a great many things undone. it is abysmal.

the pessimism of life is sometimes overwhelming. i just hold my breath until the pressure in my chest subsides and my rapid pulse slows itself and my heart stops trying to pry its way out of my chest with a pick axe. the breath becomes calm, the eyes stop watering and reality solidifies into something less dreamlike so i can get on with my life.

by the time i have to work tomorrow at 4 i should be free of these hinderances. if not, i will just push them to the side and lose myself in countless drinks and odd concoctions that fill rocks and pint glasses to offer liquid liberty/freedom/courage to those who would otherwise be lacking the confidence or loquaciousness to succeed in whatever endeavor they are attempting. i give that to everyone but myself it seems.

the box that holds my emotions leaks from time to time and when it does, people get hurt. im done with it. the box is sealed. can someone really miss love when they have realized that it is simply the herald of pain?