The Art of Obscenity

When I start to crash I have a tendency to fall off the edge of a ledge. I spent 11 hours yesterday on my couch. Moving only to have thing go in one way or out the other. I kept telling myself I should go out, at the very least take a walk. I could see it was such a nice day but I just didn’t want to go out there. Didn’t want to feel anything, didn’t want to care about anything, total system shut down. Half of it was the drugs, but the other half was realising how attached I’m getting to D. It scared the hell out of me. But I gave myself one day and that was it. I went to sleep early and woke up early and went to the gym. On a Thursday which is irregular but purposeful because I want to switch up my routine so I can spend more time with her and not feel guilty/depressed/unmotivated cause I don’t go to the gym. And again, it’s wanting to be with her, but more importantly it’s recognising it and choosing to change instead of just being an asshole. I’m proud of that and I’m not really afraid to say this is all about me, has to be all about me. I like making her happy because that makes me happy. She likes making me happy because it makes her happy. If for some reason that isn’t happening anymore I’ll deal with it when it comes. It won’t have to mean the end, it just means we talk, discuss, figure things out, as we’ve done and I hope to continue to do. Because nothing and no one is perfect. We get through by communicating and being honest. There’s no sense in beating yourself up over anything you feel, cause your feelings aren’t going anywhere, and they won’t change like your conscious thought can. They only move on when they’ve been felt.

I’m ragging on myself because I can’t seem to get past my desire for a girl and just be her friend. Let’s ignore the fact she sends mixed messages for the second since it’s not strictly relevant. I said I wanted to be her friend and that’s what I want to be. And yet I’m constantly conflicted because somehow the more I see her as a friend, the more I want her. The question is how can this possibly make sense. It makes sense because at our most basic we’re still animals. We’re conscious of time, which allows us to process memory, which makes us think somehow we’re in control. But think about what evolution truly means for a few minutes and you realise it is impossible for a species to ever develop a lack of desire to mate. For one particular offspring, absolutely, but that offspring dies without passing of the trait, problem solved. Despite learning a certain control over my desire, I still want to fuck, so clearly I am not asexual. And that urge, to just rip a girls clothes off have your way with her is everything in your body pushing you towards the only real goal your body has. Procreating. Instinctively you want to do that with someone you know you can mesh with so your combined genes can have the best chance at surviving. So a beautiful girl who truly interests you is impossible to be friends with. It doesn’t matter that I don’t even want kids. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to get married. What matters is the more I like her as a person, the more I want her as a woman. There’s absolutely no way around it.

So why the fuck am I beating myself up over it? Why do I honestly expect that I am somehow better than everyone else? Instead of being in such inner turmoil I should simply embrace who I am and what I want. I’m always happier when I do, until I start questioning what I leave behind, and then myself. Until my fear convinces me to just do nothing and go with the flow. It’s so much easier to do what your brain has practiced for so long.

I really hope I spend the next two weeks wisely.