we out this.
i can forget about people pretty easily.
weird flex but ok. so i’m a sociopath.
but despite having severe attachment issues, i always manage to leave people in my past far far behind.
i begin by forgetting phone numbers. that way i forget to communicate with you.
eventually i forget why i liked you.
i forget your middle name. i forget what your voice sounds like until my only memories of you are reduced to still images in my head.
like a photo album i never look at.
then i forget about you for ten years. i move past you. i live my life and grow and remind myself all the time i am less burdened by having fewer emotional connections.
then my bitch ass puts on a taking back sunday song, and i remember how we used to circle the loop and sing along, you would take adam’s parts and i would do john (or fred’s) part.
and suddenly, for the first time in 4 years, im like fuck. i cut this person out and i feel some type of way about it.
where’s the guilt come from? we drifted apart long before the last time we spoke. we struggled to remain close through all types of relationships with other people over time, we assumed we would always be friends.
that’s the magic of being young. assuming things would never change.
i try to remind myself that i made a decision for myself, that regardless of how the other person feels, it was not in my best interest to cling to a relationship that did not benefit me.
and then i try to quell myself by saying “man i really hope they’ve come to the same conclusion. i hope they don’t resent me.”
and that word “resentment” – what a fucker – the thought sends me into a mild panic. please don’t let me have hurt those people.
by end of the night i smoke a bowl and fall asleep, never rehashing it again until another 4 years pass.
i had a full episode written and recorded 6 weeks ago. but it doesn’t vibe with where i am currently.
the other night i stabbed myself in the leg with a fine point pilot pen. bent the point and ruined a perfectly good writing utensil.
woke up with a bruised hand, palm, and elbow, a hole in my leg, and damage to my van from probably driving through water. so much stomach bile came out of me that morning.
hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner that day and crammed enough beer into me on an empty stomach, i should’ve known it’d be a bad idea from jump street.
the point is, if i’m not at rock bottom, i’m pretty close to it. i haven’t had much self-worth in about half a year now. more and more i realize my uselessness, and finding a purpose gets harder every day.
i’m probably – strike that – definitely depressed. and it’s my own fault.
so instead of dragging all of you through this in such an inconsistent way, i guess i just came here to say goodbye. i won’t be thinking of this project much anymore because it’s served its purpose.
it was meant to be an outlet, and it turned into a burden, much like myself. no one is better for having heard this, and i’m not a better person for having done it.
these last 27 episodes will fall into the void like everything else i’ve ever done. maybe i find some other creative outlet. maybe i don’t, and i just succumb to the elements of emotional trauma that i dont know how to handle because i’m so thin-skinned.
who the fuck knows.
just know that for now, i’ll just be sitting in my cold wet van inhaling mold and probably making myself even more sick and delusional.
i’ll probably think about the things i should be doing but instead i’ll continue to work myself mentally to a breaking point every few months, because that’s just the way the cycle is.
good luck to all of you. if you think you deserve happiness, then you do. i personally think i’ve done nothing that would warrant happiness, i’m not entitled to it, but if i happen to find it, maybe i’ll let you all know.
but don’t hold your breath. and don’t bother subscribing.