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I'm so fucking tired of this. Crying every night, being lied to by those you should be able to trust. Why can't I just have a sliver of good, something to keep a smile on my face for longer than a minute, instead of these bullshit lies from people. Not people, people lie that's what they do, but women, the women who should be close that should be trusted.

I don't matter.

If I did why would people treat me like this, why would the people closes lie, cheat, and hurt. And when that happens, why would I want to deal with the world and those within it? I don't know how much longer I can hold on. I don't know if I want to. I die tonight the world keep turning tomorrow. Nothing changes, nothing should. People live and die, and some get to enjoy that time alive and some don't.

I had one true perfect day in my life. Everything was right, and good, and special, for no other reason than it was. Though the timing was right, the person was right, and for a few hours life was right.

ASBURY PARK (Ass-Berry Fart) stupid gag but it made us laugh. Oh to be or feel young again.

Four, five years now. Might as well be another life. Maybe it's just me, but moments of true, pure bliss are so rare in this existence. I'm glad I got to experience one. It was a show, some young kid, a promoter for the punk scene's birthday. Ton of wannabe, would-be bands, magicians, comedians, ect. ect. ect. came out to perform. The whole thing was streamed over some site and other shit I guess. The show itself, as most of these shows go, was terrible. I was on the bill that night, and four of us drove up together.

There was me, that is Chris, and my three droogs, that is Shari, MB, and of course Hannah. Shari was on the show pulling double duty, I was on before the closing act, MB was there to film, and take photos, and Hannah was there because I was there. We did almost everything together at this time. I was just out of a very abusive relationship and we were both finding ourselves at similar crossroads. Christ, I could write a book about her, if I had the talent, patience, and vocabulary.

The whole ride up she was riding shotgun with me behind the wheel. The two of us ignoring the backseat, listing to the Grateful Dead. Speeding the whole way, hands on the wheel, Hannah lighting up my smokes for me. Damn, it sounds stupid as I type it, read it, hear it, but it was so cool too me. My mind is freezing. Too much wine and too much song I suppose...

Plus tonight got tough, I wish I had a human to vent with. I mean I do to an extent. A great extent really with Hannah. I love her, always will on some level. I want to find the right way to tell her, not that I love her. Shit, I've told her that so many times. Letters. Flowers. No boy ever sent her flowers. That's how she put it, and I loved her, so I did. I loved the idea of her, perhaps that is more correct. She always puts me at ease. And steadily has become a "constant" for me. So few now, and without them I can easily lose myself within myself. And myself is not a place I enjoy venturing into alone. I find when face to face, drinking, smoking, when there are others about, and those others have reached the appropriate state of intoxication it is much easier to be in my head. Mostly because people seem to enjoy visiting. It's a novelty to some. How absurd is that? Depression, my illness, my darkness, it's the world's largest ball of yarn to everyone. Sure they think it's "awesome." “Cool." "Man I wish I could do that." But they don't understand the toll that darkness takes. But the bigger thing, always missed by people is not the effects of the darkness in our minds. It's the effects of accepting it, of allowing it to be part of you. The point, I think the point I was getting at anyway; is that most people don't...

Fuck it. Thankfully no one reads this, so my rambles are sheer brilliance to me.... But I do wish I had somebody to tell this all to. I’d like to say maybe one day, but optimism is for the ignorant and French.

I do have to wonder if this might be the last thing I ever write. And I have to wonder if I'd want it to be. It's the rambles of a man on many substances, none of which are as hard as I'd prefer during this current situation. Though fuck do I care what people think. Besides this rant gives no insight into the actual damaged mind I carry in my skull. I'm not nearly drunk, high, or otherwise incoherently shit-face blasted to talk about the madness lurking in the darkness of me. That is a road I'm not about to go down.

In case this is the last thing I write. My swan song.... I want to write these words and stupid, but I want them to be the last words. Tonight may not be my end, but it draws near. Not much longer now, I have to finish the final act, but maybe it is over and I can't accept it. Maybe the story ended long ago and I've become to upset with a happy ending (both from a massage parlor and in life)

In this moment, after this night I don't know if I am ready to die. But that seems to be changing minute to minute. I have no one I much care to say goodbye to, aside from those I know will be the most hurt. Though they are also the ones will accept it the easiest.

I've attempted suicide twice in my adult life. Once I was stopped. Walked in on with the noose around my neck. The second time was in Denver, while making a documentary. I took so many pills, but not enough, and I woke up the next morning with tears, honest to god tears in my eyes. Can you even imagine that feeling? To open your eyes and see you are still here, and those eyes imminently go blurry. I believe to this day in some way shape, form, I was intended to die that night, the first night. The ladder, the noose. If there is a soul it left my body that night. Something was lost. I could die tonight. Take my own life and nobody would notice. Shit nobody will ever see this. That's poetic in some way, is it not? I mean this here, right here could be my final words. And they are some of the truest words I've ever written. Yes it's a cluster fuck of babel, no doubt with typos and grammar mistakes that would make a first grader shake their head. But this is my mind, spilled out on this page for the sheer fact that I know it will go unseen, forgotten. Like the real me. Kept hidden from those in my life, a man no one ever knew, and never could. I guess I could just open the flood gates. Let the real mean come out. The part that is mostly dark, sinister.... But maybe that's not me, maybe that's who I've let myself become. I wonder now in what could be my final moments on this earth, if that little spark of light I see every so often, could that be my truest form?

I'll never know.

And Just in case I never put another word to a page, and just in case someone somehow reads this, know this is no joke. I spent a very long time thinking on this and, well , you know what? They're my final words, and what matters is that they mattered to me.... (Though my reason for choosing them is pretty wicked.)

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
Why in the name of hell do I always fall for women in relationships? Maybe it is cause I know I can't have them. I don't know, I torture myself constantly with thoughts of a life that can never be. And then to add to this other cluster fuck of a situation in my life, this one girl is not only in a relationship she is the ex of someone I guess I'd have to call a friend. Back in high-school when the "friend" dated her I had never thought of her in anyway other than a person. Partly because I always felt she was way, way out of my league. We had reconnected several times over the years, each time while she was dating someone, boyfriends I always became friends with. The most recent re-connection changed my view on her.

Unbeknown to be this girl had moved in right around the corner with her new boyfriend. This was several months ago, I was of course drunk and high, ready to end my life. Taking one last walk I turned a corner to see her and her new boyfriend on the steps of their apartment building drinking and smoking, cigs and pot. We all began to talk, nothing unusual. A few drinks, a few hits and I got to know her new guy. Not really someone I care for. This were normal even after he decided to head to bed. Her and I left out on the steps drunk. Our conversation got dark, a lot of talk about our pasts, bad relationships, with partners and family. Soon we had to head out for a pack of smokes. Then we ended up at my house to kill off some bottle I had. Now things took a strange turn. At least for me.

She was taken in by my DVD collection. The bulk of which is all horror. Something I never knew about her in the years I've known her, she's a giant horror fan. Very attractive to me. Then the talk turned to my writing, my stand-up, how she always wished she could date someone like me. Then in was time to end the night. I went to walk her home when she kissed me and took my hand dragging me to the bay. Then the boyfriend showed up. Apparently he woke up and freaked when she wasn't there. We all walked back to their place, her holding my hand the whole time, then the night ended. Obviously I didn't kill myself that night.

Her boyfriend is beyond controlling and will not allow her to hang out with me, not unless he is there I guess. Cause I've seen them a few times and we've all talked, but as she has explained when they are alone he expresses his distaste for her and I speaking. Eh, whatever. Not like anything will come of this. Nothing ever comes of anything.
Every so often I find comfort in the idea of the many worlds theory. I enjoy the thought that certain choices and moments in time will create new worlds based on all possible outcomes. Though of course this is taking quite the liberty with the actual theory, but none the less it is somewhat of a pleasant thought. There is a world where things work out for the best, maybe. I think more or less the point I wanted to get at is the thought of a world where love existence is the sort of thing that gives me a smile, the sort of thing that makes suicide so much easier. You can't die, not if there are other worlds. Shoot myself in the head and another universe is born where I don't shoot myself, or one where I do but live. A horrible life no doubt but I'm not living it, not this version of me anyway, I'll be dead.

It's strange because this was not originally what I came here to rant about. I came here because no one will read this and I can finally unload so many of the things I let fill my skull. One of those things is a girl. But it always is, right? Bitches man, bitches....

I could be the only one who feels like this but TV and film have warped the concept of love. The perfect relationship, the soulmate. But maybe there is such a thing. I thought I might have found someone like that but it was not meant to be. I fell in love with her, she helped me realize how bad the relationship I was in was. And she did this by just doing something I never thought anyone could do for me. She believed in me. Not just believed in me, but wanted to help push me, elevate me. On the surface we should never had been friends, but we all hide who we truly are when out among other humans. What really counts it what is behind our armor, and with her I found someone smart, funny, talented, and beautiful. More on the inside for me, not that she is not a very cute girl, but not my type physically. And me not hers which is how we ended up here.

There was a point where it was clear that there was an awkwardness around us. Thanks in part to other people. Friends who enjoyed mentioning how good we are together. Not that I buy into things like numerology but according to someone I once knew who did, her and I were a perfect match. She was the first girl I was able to see a future with, a family, house, all that bullshit. It's weird typing it all out, letting these thoughts and feelings out.

To quote the character Melvin Udall, this girl "make me want to be a better man."

A missed opportunity in this world, but maybe, just maybe there is a world where we are together. I wouldn't be happy, I don't think I can be no matter the reality. But in that world I'd have purpose, someone to love, to love me. Someone that would make me want to reach my fullest. I hope to find that again, that feeling. To click so perfectly with another person. It's rare in this reality.

And to my other selves. "I'm happy. Hope you're happy, too. I've loved. All I've needed: love."
I can't be sober.

I hate starting the day, the day always starts badly and gets worse. Sick and tired of fighting with Sarah. Someone who refuses to trust me though I've never lied to her, unlike she with me. Several lies I've caught her in, one that ended up pretty bad.

Sometimes it seems that sleep is the only thing to do.

Testing. Testing.

I don't sleep, not really, not anymore. Christ it has been a long road to get to the bottom. Dramatic? You bet your ass it is. Doesn't mean it isn't true. I can't really remember what it is like to be happy, if I ever really knew what it was like. I don't think I've ever even really knew who I was. Now I'm nobody, a captured pawn. I don't even have the illusion of hope. I use to. I wanted to do things. That sounds dumb, we all wanted to do thing. And I guess I got to do some of the things I wanted, so I guess I can't complain all that much. Though I like to think I could have done more, done better if I hadn't taken the path I took.

Ten years of my life I gave to someone. And I can't even write about that relationship without tearing up like a bitch. There is a knot in my stomach thinking about her and everything I allowed her to do to me, how I let her treat me. Maybe I deserved it, I don't know. I don't know how interpersonal, let alone romantic relationships are meant to work. I only know how I wish they worked, how I'd like them to. Which is typically the way you'd see them in some quirky TV Show. There has been a few, very, few women I have felt strongly for. One who understandably could never feel the same and the other who was all but perfect. With minor faults being she was married and terminally ill.

Her health issues presenting themselves right at a time that my father's own health began to decline last summer. All this starting right before my father was informed he was to be evicted sometime in this year. I sit here, I can do nothing but look at where my life is and laugh. Mostly at myself for ever thinking I belonged, for thinking I would somehow, someday matter. If not to someone else at least to myself.

Not a day goes by that I don’t regret being stopped.

Hand over the Jade monkey.

Sitting at work, my mind is in the same clouds that normally calls home. Clouds of self loathing, misery, and depression. Most of which seem to stem from my own insecurities, and paranoia. I could and really should do something, try and work on them maybe take meds, but it all seems a bit too much and a little risky. Risky in the sense that I have no way of knowing if I will like a happier, more secure version of myself. Sometimes it is best to stick with what you understand.

Spent Thanksgiving with friends since Mirian had to rush to Mexico due to the passing of her grandmother. It’s been hard on her thus far and I can’t really blame her, the passing of a love one typically is hard on one’s mind and soul.

Christmas is going and bringing mixed feelings I can’t really explain, except as maybe sadness. Sadness at the lack of family, but oh well.

When I was younger I would have taken most of these feelings and turned them into written word, crafting stories and worlds to escape through. However as I age I spend more time retreating into driving around and listing to music. The music of the moment has become Tom Waits and Mr. Warren Zevon once again.

I’m at work right now, cooking four lbs of bacon is not a fun task and I would never wish it on anyone. Seeing the grease produced by this fatten food product makes one wonder why any of us humans even eat it, and has insured that I may never touch bacon again in my life.
Tired and filled with hate and self-loathing.  What the hell am I doing with my life.  Half the time anymore it just seems like I'm going about on cruise control.  The times I try to enjoy myself and life feels like nothing but a very bad act, and the rest of the time I am collapses on the inside which leaks to the outside and rising more depression and hate because my actions in these moment of mental pain are not normal in anyway.
I hate people, plain and simple.  Folks always say they hate people but most do not mean it, I do.  Society teaches us that we should be social, make friends, human connections, to me that is bullshit, people, life, society, all bullshit.  I don’t rightly know anymore what it is but something about people pisses me off, makes me sick to my stomach, kicks my paranoia and anxiety into overdrive and I walk away feeling a greater distaste for the human race than before.  I should become a shut in, never leave the house, sit in a dark room all day doing nothing but sleeping and talking to myself.  That to me sounds like a slice of heaven.

Follow up post.

Yes my brain hurts very badly right now, mainly because of what I said about wishing to be a better person, and all that.  I just think I have a lot of shit to think about right now and I’m not so sure I want to.  On the plus side I did not have a panic attack at work last night, which is very good seeing as these panic attacks are really beginning to scare me.  If I can just work through them I can tackle some of the other issues that poison my mind.  However I’m not sure I want to fix some of these problems, possibly out of a fear for change, or just that these problems have been part of my life for so long I feel in some way connected to them.  Though these problems have never been as bad as they are now, I sleep less, hate more, and generally wake up wondering why I am not dead.

It just hit me as I was typing this up, I am not a complete wreck this morning and am in some ways looking forward to later tonight.  But things change of course and later tonight will most likely be a horrible disaster which will end in my mind collapses on itself.  Either way I shall watch TV with Mirian and buy sushi for us and try and maybe sleep?

Sleep won’t happen, but sushi and TV will.
I wish very much that I could be a better person instead of this horrible excuse of a person I am now.  That is all

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calibrizzi
C.A.Librizzi

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