Determined.

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Here’ my fucking life plan . . . as soon as my mother dies–and may it not happen for a long time . . . I’m going to kill myself. I can’t get a job. I can’t think of one I want except to be a writer but nobody publishes my shit. So I have decided to stick with my plan of killing myself after my mother passes away if I can’t do what I to want in life.

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Determined.

Heavily Breathing.

I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful to know the people, friends, family of autism I’m living with. You know, when this international debacle got started it put things into perspective. It’s as if for the first time I can feel how large and fragile the world is and I’ve been freaking out. Just as I ran out of Xanax. However, I do continue to breathe and to try and end this suicidal run of thoughts in my head. I’m getting out into the world and doing some shit. I’m taking up drinking green tea. I’m taking a class. I’m going out to drink more. I’m going out to eat more. I’m making appointments. I’m AVOIDING media. I am desisting from being a news junkie. I will keep abreast of what happens in terms of headlines but I will focus on other things. This dark time will break clear and bright again as so many of my past plunges into depression and anxiety have. I will enjoy food and music and old films again. I’m going to try if you try. I know there are people out there trying. Always forward, with love.

Heavily Breathing.

I am The Tube.

 

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The fuck is wrong with me? Bad chemicals acting up again. I never should have strayed from the Prozac. Three days of feeling down and empty and like I don’t exist. Then, suddenly today I now am full of rage that I’ve just been screaming into a pillow like some animal. I feel like I don’t know who I am. I have no identity. I have no direction. All I want to do is scream and destroy my room. Can this all just be chemicals? Where was the sunny me a few days ago, enjoying his coffee and listening to music. Watching the Harry Palmer movies. Having a mellow good time with myself. How can I just abruptly become so despondent. Maybe I should forcefully change my life. Look for someone who needs a roommate in New York. Be forced out. No. I would be isolated somewhere else. I FEEL LIKE A MARIONETTE PUPPET!!! LIKE I HAVE NO STRINGS. NOTHING ABOVE KEEPING ME UP. JUST TIME AND GRAVITY KEEPING ME IN THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL. I don’t believe in time anyway. Just a construct to measure Space. What do I want to be. A man who has a good woman. A man who makes money. Now, I am nothing. Just another demolished man buried under sand dunes. No one sees. No one cares. No one will understand. I will never understand myself. I have no self. I’m a blank space. I’m not here. You’re not reading this. I am not typing now. This is not helping me. I am not here and neither are you. I’m the tube. I take in and put out. I take in and I put out. I am not human. I am a bug blinded by the taillight it’s attached to.

 

I am The Tube.

Dead Now.

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I feel nothing but a bit down. Empty. Depression that is very light. Feeling like time is slipping away and I don’t know what to do. I need a direction, but I will not find one as usual. What do I do about the hollowness. I could think the same thoughts and blog the same blogs I have already blogged before. My emptiness, something in me is dead and no longer responds the way it has before. The nerve is dead. My pain is gone but I can feel it’s impression pressured inside me. I think I am dead now. Dead to all things. Yes. Now I’m dead. Knowing that is a bit wonderful, I think. I give up. It has me. No control. Down and down and down and deep down.

Dead Now.

Hitched.

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Enough with this bullshit. Time to find a wife. That is my mission now. Wish me luck. Fortunately, I have reached the point where I’m beyond embarrassment and I shall go forward and flirt mercilessly. Bars and clubs and the streets, I will be a man flirt. I will get this shit done. I ain’t dying alone ya’ll. No way mothafuckas! This is my mission. I will go out into the world and Mack out on all the fly honies. I will not be restrained by my bullshit. Period. Bam. It’s done. And if you want to be my wife, send a profile and deets.

Hitched.

How do I get “The Sex?”

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I’ve been thinking that there should be a place to have sex. I’m not talking prostitution, but places you can go and ask each other if you want to have sex. I can’t bother flirting. It’s been awhile since I’ve been with a woman sexually and I would like to have an orgasm soon. I don’t like touching myself. There really should be places for people like me. Maybe a key party. Some place, any place to go and have The Sex. Flirtation is so tedious. It’s like small talk except we know why the small talk is being made and I’m forced to engage in boring pointless blather to form some bond that isn’t going to happen. If I’m going to like a woman I have to have sex with her first. Spend some more time together. Have more sex and see what happens. If anybody has any tips about where to go to meet people who just want to have sex. Drop me a message.

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How do I get “The Sex?”