Monday, December 07, 2009
How Frustrating!
Ever since we got to KC, I've been trying to find, simply, a foot hookup. Just someone that I or Mary and I can play a little with. Not even sex. Just feet.
That's five years now. Completely and totally unsuccessful.
And what tops this all off? Now, at home, I get to hear that because some guy has $500 to drop on some play, there are TWO girls calling HIM, coming to HIS door.
In one way, it makes me wish I had the money. In another, it makes me a little angry.
What can I do? Not a damn thing. I just have to sit down, pat people on the back, and endure it. There is no sign of me ever having that kind of money to drop on just a few minutes.
AND... It's winter! There are no bare feet out for me to even SEE! The only place I see it is at home!! The same place where I get to hear about some guy with $500 that's getting foot play!!! AAARRRGGGHHH!!!
Shoot me. Just fucking shoot me.
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Monday, June 01, 2009
It's just too late at night for this...
I'm slowly reaching the threshold of sleep.
My emotional state is not at all acceptable. I am trying different methods to try to break myself and just go to sleep.
My physical journal has already felt the wrath of my unending writing as I filled three pages with ramblings about my emotional immaturity and how much it plagues me now.
I've spent time doing the most tedious, boring tasks in World of Warcraft (fishing) to try to knock myself out.
And, now, I am resorting to writing online.
I sometimes feel like I'm wasting everyone's time. Like I'm the reason some people are not reaching their full potential. Like I'm the reason some people become colder. Like if I weren't part of their lives, their quality of life could move to a better place. Like I don't even like myself. Like I have questions, but I don't want to exert the effort to find the answers. Like I wish I were a normal man. Like I wish I had SOMEONE to talk to. Like I want to fall back on religion. Drink the Kool-Aid.
There are so many things and scenarios being played out in my mind right now, it would take a team of people to record only a small fraction of the ramblings.
Do I crave a knowing voice? I don't know. Do I really want the things I think I want? Who knows?
I really can't believe how petty, ridiculous, and just plain STUPID the trigger for this emotional spiral is. Sometimes I wonder if my mind has actually matured much past the time my fetish was identified. I don't know. And, yet, there is STILL, simply not a single person I feel like I can talk to about it.
It's not about me. It was an absolutely awesome weekend, and I got to share that weekend with friends with whom I share a unique bond.
As good as the fellowship is, I still feel like an outsider; I'm on the periphery. I've been granted access to a glimpse and I must not take it for granted. I must take my glance, and be satisfied.
Fuck. Who am I kidding? I really don't have anyone I can talk to. I've already 'talked' to my journal for an hour. Now I'm leaving a tiny print on the internet for maybe three readers to read all the way through, tops. And they are still only people that love me and have sympathy for me. They are completely incapable of understanding. Not by any fault of their own. They simply do not and CAN not understand.
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