Loneliness. The Finale, if you will.
I have been slacking on this, but it's not out of ignorance or personal choice not to disclose the rest of my blast from the past. It's because I completely forgot about it until I found the two pages earlier today.
This is part three, but is also the last part, so instead of Volume 3 or something I decided to go with Finale. Upon reading it myself, it is entirely unfulfilling in the sense that I seem to have went from personal admittances and emotion, to random ranting and impersonal goings-on.
What began as a somewhat coherent stream of thought settled into a distracted rant involving anything but the subject I began with. Perhaps that lends to the state of mind I was in: I began a bit broken and confused about what I wanted to relate, and ended up back to random, unimportant thoughts that to me conveyed a sense of "getting over it."
Decide for yourself. I'm making it sound deeper than it appears.
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I don't think I'm lonely anymore.
I mean, I'm alone, as in I live alone, but the oppression of the feeling of loneliness seems to have dissipated. The days are nicer. I think I like my job more, too, which may lend to the whole Feeling Better thing.
I have a TV again. 27" flat screen TV. So in a sense, I now have a crutch again. Something to lean on, to distract me from anything I want it to distract me from. Hell, I've writing at least twice already to watch TV. Only for a few seconds or minutes, but still. Ten fuckin' lines on a page and I'm already stopping to check out the TV? It's "Trading Places," which I've seen countless times.
So what is it that pulls me back? I've seen it, I can see it pretty much whenever, but I keep looking. And this happens all the time, whatever I may be doing. I missed TV so much, and now I am realizing it is more of a drain. So, what, cut down? Like smoking or something? I don't think it works that way.
But anyway. I'm tired. Drank last night, didn't sleep much, and slept on the couch at that. Why when you get too much sleep you're tired, and when you get only a little, you're tired? It stands to reason that if you sleep for, say, 10 hours or some shit you should bounce out of bed (there I went again) eith the energy of a hyperactive 10 year old on a sugar high.
You know what's even more of a distraction? Jamie Lee Curtis topless.
Hold on a sec.
Ok, scene's over.
Now, I sleep alot, sometimes. Go to bed 5am, get up at 2pm. That's... 9 hours. Plenty, right? And yet, I want more. Good night's sleep and I'm yawning like a champ around 8:30pm. I don't get it. Is it from too much work? Or am I just predisposed to sleeping alot and it carries over?
See what I mean about distraction? This is the most shallow writing I have done it quite a while. I started with something, I think, but it seems to have coalesced into something virtually worthless.
Because of the distraction. And it's voluntary, which seems to make it worse. I don't have to look up, I'm not missing anything. So at the moment, this is pointless, so I'm gonna go ahead and stop.
I'm getting hungry.
And tired. Did I mention that?
This is part three, but is also the last part, so instead of Volume 3 or something I decided to go with Finale. Upon reading it myself, it is entirely unfulfilling in the sense that I seem to have went from personal admittances and emotion, to random ranting and impersonal goings-on.
What began as a somewhat coherent stream of thought settled into a distracted rant involving anything but the subject I began with. Perhaps that lends to the state of mind I was in: I began a bit broken and confused about what I wanted to relate, and ended up back to random, unimportant thoughts that to me conveyed a sense of "getting over it."
Decide for yourself. I'm making it sound deeper than it appears.
_________________________________________________________
I don't think I'm lonely anymore.
I mean, I'm alone, as in I live alone, but the oppression of the feeling of loneliness seems to have dissipated. The days are nicer. I think I like my job more, too, which may lend to the whole Feeling Better thing.
I have a TV again. 27" flat screen TV. So in a sense, I now have a crutch again. Something to lean on, to distract me from anything I want it to distract me from. Hell, I've writing at least twice already to watch TV. Only for a few seconds or minutes, but still. Ten fuckin' lines on a page and I'm already stopping to check out the TV? It's "Trading Places," which I've seen countless times.
So what is it that pulls me back? I've seen it, I can see it pretty much whenever, but I keep looking. And this happens all the time, whatever I may be doing. I missed TV so much, and now I am realizing it is more of a drain. So, what, cut down? Like smoking or something? I don't think it works that way.
But anyway. I'm tired. Drank last night, didn't sleep much, and slept on the couch at that. Why when you get too much sleep you're tired, and when you get only a little, you're tired? It stands to reason that if you sleep for, say, 10 hours or some shit you should bounce out of bed (there I went again) eith the energy of a hyperactive 10 year old on a sugar high.
You know what's even more of a distraction? Jamie Lee Curtis topless.
Hold on a sec.
Ok, scene's over.
Now, I sleep alot, sometimes. Go to bed 5am, get up at 2pm. That's... 9 hours. Plenty, right? And yet, I want more. Good night's sleep and I'm yawning like a champ around 8:30pm. I don't get it. Is it from too much work? Or am I just predisposed to sleeping alot and it carries over?
See what I mean about distraction? This is the most shallow writing I have done it quite a while. I started with something, I think, but it seems to have coalesced into something virtually worthless.
Because of the distraction. And it's voluntary, which seems to make it worse. I don't have to look up, I'm not missing anything. So at the moment, this is pointless, so I'm gonna go ahead and stop.
I'm getting hungry.
And tired. Did I mention that?
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