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This may or may not be my last update.

These past few months have been weird. I'm not in any serious danger, since I don't really do anything wrong, but it just feels like I've been living in the Twilight Zone since the last incident. Everyone is just so judgmental and overly sensitive these days, to the point where I really do need to not bother with anyone and just go somewhere else. There is nowhere else to go, though, at least not right now. And there is nothing I can do about people being the way they are right now, so as such I just need to keep a low profile and stay indoors.

I hate it. I mean, I don't hate myself, I don't hate my life, I just hate how the world is right now (at least my neck of the woods). Things have just gotten so odd; my brother was over here for my mother's death anniversary (fifth year) and it was fun to be around him, drinking Rolling Rock together in my apartment and beating him at Street Fighter II on the Sega Genesis (out of ten matches, he only won twice; that surprised me since I'm not good at those games, either). But even he noticed that things were off back when he walked back to my father's house because he was too drunk to drive (I told him not to); he noticed on the way back that there were a lot of closed businesses and there were, indeed, a lot of cop cars around, which I had warned him about. The cops were everywhere for about three weeks, and even others noticed that. They are mostly gone now, but I still wonder what the hell that was all about. My brother just chalked it up to a lack of students and crime rate going up. The first part is definitely true (you don't see a lot of students anymore, even during the school year, although there are a few younger people walking around at night, for some odd reason), but I don't know about the second. I certainly hope that isn't the case.

I am drinking beer again, although I only drink about two beers every other day and I rarely get intentionally drunk anymore. I do smoke, though, and that sort of bothers me. I don't think that I'm going to die from it anytime soon, but I still don't like it. At least I don't have any reason to think that I'm irresponsible with alcohol anymore, especially since I hate it half the time I even have one pint.

I somewhat overspent this month; not too proud of that, although I think it was because I was depressed. I don't even spend that much; I just have very little money. I used to buy coffee a lot, but now I get it with EBT from Winco, and that stuff is surprisingly decent. If I sell some of my stuff and watch my finances, which I'm normally good at, I don't think that I'll be in any deep shit. Most who would see what problems that I currently have would likely roll their eyes and think "You have got to be kidding me", because most people have way worse problems. But it does kind of irk me that even the typical poor can afford to have a nice dinner at a restaurant at least twice a month, whereas I can't. Sucks.

Moscow seems to be shrinking to me. I can't go to the university (still don't want to talk about that, but it wasn't my fault), the bars are all filled with overly sensitive types who were nothing like that as little as two years ago or less (with the exception of one, but I only go there when few people are in there, because it small and almost always crowded), I don't want to go to the churches (wouldn't do any good, anyway), I don't want to go near the house that my mother died in if I can help it (the fact that my father married some stranger who got most of my mother's stuff doesn't help), I don't want to go to Starbucks (too expensive, too crowded, and the people there are too liberal), and even the smoke shop that I regularly go to probably isn't that welcoming any more. Someone there innocently told me that a guy that I knew of for years is leaving, and I innocuously asked him about it the next day; he got all strained and quietly mad, but I mistook it for him making some sarcastic joke (he had done that in the past). As it turns out, he's getting fired. I have no idea why because he is educated and worked there a bit; I merely told him that someone told me and he said "Yeah I know. I'm not happy with that person." I looked over to the other dude, who never seemed to have a problem with me, and he shook his head and mouthed "It wasn't me"; the man I was talking to wasn't looking, so I just quietly nodded. Having the wisdom to get out of there, I told those two that I hoped they had a good day, and the other dude (the one who gestured "It wasn't me") sadly said "You too." As such, it would be a good idea not to go back there anytime soon.

It sucks. I can't get close to anyone anymore, not that I really wanted to. I told this to my friend (really my only one by this point) and he confirmed. I told him about the incident and I asked him if it was my fault. He said that some of it was my social awkwardness but for the most part, it was simply me being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I came to that conclusion before he did. I told him that now he knows why I want to be a hermit, and he fully understood.

I was reading some of my former entries here, with me talking about friends. I have no memory of anything like that now. Odd how you can forget your friends or what you said or did with them, because they all (or at least most) will stab you in the back eventually. I think it is for two reasons: I am an older man who doesn't have any status or money, and I'm out of any social networking loop. I was tolerated at the university because I once had people there that would "support" me, but once one moved away, the other gradually turned away. I'm not really that creepy, I mean I don't hit on anyone and I don't talk to people I don't already know, or at least know of. I guess being an older nobody is enough to offend people, even though I did occasionally say some off-color jokes to my so-called "friends" (I did that for several years though without incident before THE CHANGE, so it isn't my fault). That one "friend" who turned on me? I knew that person for six and a half years, and that one never did anything about it until this year; nothing I did until early this year was any problem at all, or at least that person was very good at pretending, giving me free coffee and shit. I talked about that to my therapist, my only remaining friend, and others, and they were baffled. Just a bunch of liberal intolerance and bullshit at its finest. And I feel that it will likely just get worse, because of the narcissism fueled by social media. People really have to get their fucking heads out of their asses, I mean I eventually did, although when no one else does, all you can do is run or hide. When the other side takes power (the alt-right, and they likely will, sooner or later) those people won't know what the fuck to do. They wouldn't run and they'd be too stupid to hide, even if they could by that point. At least I can still do that.

Of course, other stuff happened as well, but I don't want to talk about it. Mostly about how my father acted during the death anniversary; acted bizarre during the cookout the day prior to it and when we were at the graveyard (my brother invited him, what an idiot...) he never said a single word about my mother, and didn't even look at my mother's grave that he's also on until my brother caught him not looking. He then just did the same stuff that he did last time he was there, in 2014; just completely unmoved and pointing to my brother our relatives. It was completely inappropriate, and I told my brother that I don't want him there again. Of course, he saw nothing wrong with it. At least they didn't go on some hike or fire guns in some backwoods road, although that was only because my father's new wife had a doctor's appointment. All the time I was there, my father never said a single word about my mother. He even forgot about it until I brought up that my brother was coming down a while back; this happened as soon as 2015.

Now you know why I can't get close to people. All relationships barely have anything genuine behind them, if they do at all. I learned that the hard way, but I did adapt to it, at least. Admittedly, the growing pains are quite painful indeed. You really do go a little nuts when no one cares about you, but no one really cares about anybody, they only pretend. Young minds aren't used to that, though; they have to have the illusion that the world is warm and welcoming. Breaking the false image into reality can drive one insane, but I'm used to that by now.

I don't know what I want to do anymore. I sort of sworn off drugs and I'm not quite passionate about anything. I've been thinking a lot about how I should continue down this long (or not so long) course of life and I do need to change a bit, because I was pretty juvenile for a while. I don't really want to do anything for anyone; not primarily out of selfishness, but because I'm just so used to seeing people giving me bad looks in the streets, including some people I had known in the past. Why help anyone like that? Other people just look like bags of flesh to me; I don't even hate them, I just don't feel any attachment, and wisely so. I wasn't like that when I was a bit younger; I wanted to know more people and know more of the world. But there is only so much that is worth knowing. As for the bad looks, even two years ago it was different; I can recall one person openly giving me the evil eye in public. In fairness, I think others have caught me looking at them wrong, too. At least I'm not spineless.

On the lighter side of things, I do like playing video games and I discovered that Appian Way Pizza, while it is messy to make and looks gross when made, is actually very cheap and delicious, although probably not that great for you. I still want to do things with my life, but I have to focus on the here and now, rather than be in some imagined dreamy La La Land where I have achieved all that I can never achieve, ever. Sad thing is that "now" doesn't provide much, although it is still better than just a dream.
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This has been an odd month.

I now no longer go to the university. Something happened there; it wasn't my fault and when I told everyone about it (I told them everything about it) they were shocked that it happened to me. I don't want to go into too many details because I'm trying to move on in life and it really isn't that big of a deal. I just want to forget about it and close that stagnant chapter in my life. In retrospect, I really should have never hung out there after my business was done, but people kept on telling me that it was no big deal and I really had no other place to go. Little did I know, that people rarely tell you the truth. I just got so many bad vibes from that place for roughly two years, but I didn't know what to do because everyone kept on telling me that nothing was wrong and giving me false support. I don't miss the place at all, and to be honest I'm really not that angry (I was for a little while, though), but I just feel like I wasted so much time in my life, and now I'm paying the price. I really don't know where to move on in my life, although it could be said that it was too late before I even worked there.

It is strange because it is like I now physically and psychologically resemble the person who came back from MTSU in 2010 more than how I was just months ago. That is nice, I guess, but I'm still lost. I'd say by this point that the only real differences between how I am now and how I was then are that my face is more tired-looking, I no longer take anyone at face/surface value and I'm a lot less likely to act like an idiot. Those are really the only differences I can see. In a way, I have a new lease on life, but where to I go? Where is the plan? I know that I have to work for it, but I worked during graduate school and those two measly jobs and I still didn't get anywhere. I have all of this intelligence, and yet everyone thinks that I'm trash. They are likely to say that I was trash before they rejected me, but it is really the other way around; I've simply been too many different types of people.

Just...I don't know. Everyone is angry and I'm the scapegoat. Too many weird things are happening, including cop cars blaring and speeding during the broad daylight, suspicious loud people at night, and even one time where I almost got hit by a semi. Of course, they aren't out to get me, but this stuff almost never happened. This place used to be safe; I used to be able to go out at night with no problems up until now (my previous job required that). Now, I wouldn't dare, even though I'm mostly nocturnal now. People are just acting so strangely. Most others would just say that I am crazy, but I tend to notice things and immediately accept them, whereas they do notice as well, but just brush it off. It has gotten to the point where I barely want to go out for a smoke at night anymore, even though that in and of itself wouldn't do much harm.

Other than that, I'm practicing astral projection a little bit more and I'm actually a bit calmer. Living at night makes me feel at ease and I'm a bit more focused. I also have more energy, for some odd reason. I haven't done a lot with my time yet, but I'm also getting into programming so I might be able to do a handful of things. I have the intelligence to do it, but not the discipline I think. I wouldn't say that I'm lazy; it is just that my mind goes into overdrive and I don't really do much in the real world. I'm in fucking La La Land half the time, and the other half I'm either doing light research or playing an old video game. I wish that I did have a job, but I'd probably be overwhelmed, especially concerning that I'm now used to having so much time on my hands. I don't think that I've squandered either my mind or my life, but I did start off on a path with innumerous obstacles.

I feel, though, that I will do something significant someday. I'm simply too intelligent and motivated. But nothing is for certain, and it would be fair to say that if I was capable, I would have already done it. Everyone sees me as a loser, and I feel that their opinion is accurate.
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I am still not drinking any alcohol, which is great. My therapist thought that it was impressive that anyone could stay way from it for that long. However, there may still be aftereffects from not drinking for so long, since my brain was just flooded with that stuff for years and now it has to readjust. Someone today showed me an image of brain scans of an alcoholic who wasn't drinking as opposed to one who was intoxicated; the sober one had low brain activity, whereas the intoxicated one looked like the normal control. I've always figured that alcohol was a form of self-medication, and that I was likely hugely depressed before I started to drink alcohol, but now I think it has gotten worse than it used to be, although I will say that I'm still able to function as an independent adult and I still seem to be fairly intelligent.

This month was a little weird. I used DXM for a while but I decided to stop, because for some reason it was making me very irritable and emotionally enraged for a day or two after I used it. This never happened when I was drinking alcohol; I think that the two substances operate on some of the same receptors in the brain, and as such when you aren't doing one, the other might start to have more intense effects. Back when I still drank alcohol, I would be very calm and peaceful after I used DXM; now, I have to restrain myself from screaming. Outside of that possible cause, I really have no idea why it is like this now.

I didn't go to the university today. I'm getting a vague feeling that the last friend that I have there doesn't want me around so much anymore, although she is still pleasant. It was time to move on, in any case, but I really should just gradually taper off, instead of not ever going back, ever. I had an excuse because I had to go to Pullman today, so I can just tell her that tomorrow.

In general, I don't think that I'm going to bother with people anymore. I mean, I just don't connect with anyone, even if they don't have a problem with me. I sort of realized that I don't have any close friends, and the few friends that I have would turn their backs on me if I crossed a line or two. It has always been like that, this is just how people are. I'm not angry at anyone or anything, I just can't feel for others anymore. It used to be that I could have a lot of hatred for people, but now I don't think that I can even hate anyone anymore. Maybe I could, but it would be too much personal investment and it is a waste of time. I still like living in the world, but other people have been kind of a disappointment, I guess. I didn't used to be like this; I was once someone who idolized other people and looked for mentors. But now, I can only look towards myself, for not only am I an odd person with an odd set of cultivated skills and wisdom, but no one else gives a shit, either. I feel that I became this way due to the neglect that I have faced.

I was thinking for a while that I was becoming less intelligent and I was losing my memory, but that usually turns out to be false. But it is always best to be on your guard about that.

I renewed the lease for this year. I think that it would have been premature to have moved this year, but if trouble happens with my father (which it might), then it might pose a problem. He is currently gone on his sailing trip with his girlfriend; they reached the end of Baja and sent me an e-mail that wasn't very grammatical, although it was better than the others. He then called me last morning, and woke me up. We talked for only two and a half minutes; the tone was pleasant, but he just wanted to know if he got any odd mail and if I had been doing the chores. He said that it was a dollar a minute to call; that isn't going to set you back very much, and he could have at least asked me how I was doing. I at least would have been polite (not that I wasn't). I'm pretty sure that this is pretty revealing, and if they come back from the trip I might not want to have anything to do with them.

I've actually felt very calm as well; sometimes I feel that there are no problems whatsoever, which is a first since I moved back here seven years ago. I think that it is because I have the security of knowing that my father isn't around, and I can kind of forget about the whole thing. That actually has been very nice for me, and I've realized that I can have a relatively happy and productive life if I finally escape all of this bullshit. Most people have told me "No, don't move..." but honestly, I've been here for years and have given everyone so many chances, only to become more burdened and calloused. Would it be selfish of me to leave? No more than everyone else has been, I think. And besides, I've just been unhappy for so long. There have been moments where I look out to a view while drinking a beer or a coffee, or smoke or otherwise am on some drug, and I feel a sense of beauty and peace, but in general these past seven years have really, REALLY sucked, and I finally have the balls to get myself out of it. Maybe I'm hitting my mid-life crisis early, but I really have no where else to go but somewhere else. I mean, why stay here, with all the broken hopes, promises, and painful memories? I just want to live somewhere else, and have a new life.
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I'm a little bit better now. I feel a little sick, probably from the stress and perhaps the smokes and the alcohol. I haven't drank or smoked all that much (I've seldom betrayed the "once-every-other-day" schedule), but I need to stop doing that because it isn't helping and they are probably making me sick, or at least making it more likely for me to get sick.

I was stressed out for about three weeks. Still sort of am; it was making my hair fall out. When I was on the phone with my sister, she told me that when I told her of the bad news, that she could tell that I was under so much distress. I just hate how something can totally not be your fault, and yet only you suffer the consequences. I've had to experience that a lot.

I don't feel like I'm dying, but I do think that I have to stop doing this shit. I'm sick of it.

I likely won't move. I can't afford to move anywhere and I like it here, anyways. I shouldn't make a sacrifice just because someone else is being dishonest and childish. It turns out that my brother didn't know, and he fully supports our father. Big surprise there. I probably will be more distant towards both of them; I can really only enjoy my life when I'm not reminded of this shit. Fortunately, there have been times where I don't think about it, and act like it never happened.

I'm reading and writing again. After I read a book by Simone De Beauvoir, I'm probably going to write something about existentialism, which is my favorite school of philosophy (so far).

When I talked to my therapist about what happened yesterday, she told me that my father can replace his wife, but that he can't replace my mother. Only I have the power to make that choice. She is right, but it doesn't make it any less hard.

Oh well, at least my life isn't entirely boring right now.

I just have to become more distant with them. Disowning my father wouldn't do any good, at least right now. But I'm sick and tired of pretending and being manipulated. Even if my mother was still alive and our family was normal, you don't try to be a "big, happy family" when your oldest son is nearly 32. It just doesn't work.

I guess that I am still sort of angry, but if I shut it out of my life, it won't be a major problem.

Well, here is hoping that I end up not damaged or anything.
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I could say that nothing happened over the past month, but that would be a big fucking lie. Would have been true until about a week ago, though.

I was over for dinner at my father's house last Wednesday, and he brought up in a lateral fashion that he and his girlfriend were getting married. There were a fair amount of clues, so as such I knew that it could have happened, but the way that he brought it up with his girlfriend right in front of me was emotionally manipulative. I couldn't look him in the eye or tell him that it was wrong (which it is), but I was able to expose him as a liar to his girlfriend, saying calmly that he told my brother that he wasn't going to marry her (which he denied) and that mother never wrote because she thought that he would never remarry (he replied by saying that she did, so I'll have to look into that). And I didn't even mean to expose him like that; nonetheless, it is pretty obvious that he was either lying all along, or decided to go back on his word. I have caught him lying about benign shit multiple times over the past year or two. And even if he didn't plan on lying, does that negate the fact that you can't trust someone who goes back on their word, let alone respect them? I don't think so.

Of course, I told my sister about it. It was hard to do, but I had to; it would have been wrong otherwise. She felt angry about it, but was very reasonable and controlled; she was not hysterical at all. Her main concern was that the house and the belongings might go to another family, which is very possible. I brought up the facts that our father was writing prenups, thus potentially meaning that they wouldn't, and that he told me to make a list of the things that I wanted after he died. She was pleased about the latter, but added that if he dies the prenups won't matter, especially if the house is going to be in the girlfriend's name. I don't know if there is anything we can do about it; it could be worse though, since that house wasn't the one that we grew up in. Still, it is a family resource, and it shouldn't be handed down to a stranger's family just because some divorcee from a lower background married a DOCTOR who was too weak and desperate to stand on his own.

Our conversation was perhaps the most important one I've ever had, or at least one of them.

The day after, my brother called me. He did say that he talked to our father, but didn't bring up the remarriage. I could tell, though, that he was slightly upset; I might speaking too soon, but I think that he is finally starting to see our father for who he really is. He asked me if I wanted to move to where he is so that I could be closer to family that I get along with, and I said that I was now thinking about moving (which is true). I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was worried about me. He also wants me to get a job, which I am thinking about. SSI wouldn't be enough to live on where he lives, and it isn't meant to replace a paycheck in any case. I just applied to Orange Julius yesterday (I have a friend there) so I might be lucky in getting one.

I probably will move. It is just becoming intolerable to live here. Not just my father, either; I've simply been here for too long. I need a change, to leave the past behind me. I've been here for six years, and the people around me just keep getting younger to the point where I don't fit in anymore. I feel like I'm just stagnating here. I could stagnate where I want to move to, as well, but at least I'd be doing something different for once. It is just a matter of money, I think, but that can be remedied over time. I should start getting rid of some of my stuff to prepare for the move.

It is just so bizarre, this turn of events. I can't do much right now, because I'm just dealing with all of this bullshit. And none of it is my fault, either; not a single bit of it has been brought on by myself. I'm being too civil and calm, if anything. But it is like this: I wake up, not really knowing what is going on. Then, after about half an hour, I start to realize the reality that I'm in, and after about an hour I get to the point where I'm so sad, angry and disgusted that I want to scream and vomit. My father is a disgrace to the family, and I'm not alone in thinking that. This whole thing is practically a waking nightmare, one that I never would have thought would happen when mother was still alive, because at the time I bought in to my father's lies. But in fairness, I always knew that he was very weak on some level or another...simply not as weak as this.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about it. Just have to prepare for my own life away from this whole ordeal. I'm done with it now. We never going to be one big, happy family, especially when mother is just replaced like this.
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I'm not feeling too well.

I don't know if it is physically or psychologically rooted. It could be both. I just feel like I'm going haywire and that my body is just acting up. I feel like I see things sometimes, my body heats up for no good reason, my throat swells up, my eyes hurt, I have almost no desire or energy...I just have never been through anything like this before.

When my mother was in hospice, I just felt like I was running on empty. I had to keep myself from crying in my workplace. Fortunately, I did, but that was still embarrassing. The year after Mom's death, I just drank a lot and did a stupid amount of legal highs. Last year, I was only worried about my father doing something inappropriate at my mother's grave.

You'd think that it would be easier as it goes on. That was the trend. But now, it isn't so. It is like my father has completely forgotten about my mother; I brought up that it was the time of the year a few days ago to him, and he just thought that I was talking about the seasons. How dense and shallow could he be? That was his wife, and now he forgets all about her. He replaced her with someone else, and expects his children to be happy for him. Well, I'm not.

Also when I inadvertently brought up about the denial of my autonomy growing up, he added "...and you're going to blame your parents for that?", laughed, and then said that his conscience is clear because while he may have made mistakes, he did what was best. Sure, he might have, but best for whom? It was really all about him, growing up. Not to mention that admitting mistakes and saying that "I did my best" does not absolve you from the fact that you fucked your kid's life up; there is no way I can have a normal life due to what happened to me when younger...I basically have no career path, and no future. What is worse, is that he fully admits that he made mistakes, but that it doesn't affect him at all. That takes some real nerve to openly admit that; he probably is emotionally shallow, with both this and forgetting about my mother. I don't know how long I can talk to him.

And even if my father had nothing to do with it, my life is still hard now as is. I have no motivation; I still want to do things with my life, and I have minor interests, but I can barely do anything. I can't even read a book; I have the fear that depression is turning me into an idiot. I'm not quite drinking myself stupid, but I need to watch that, as well.

I feel that this is the beginning of a downward spiral. I don't know how to stop it. It is bad enough that things are the way they are with my mother dead and my father the way he is; I also need to find another place as soon as possible. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is ringing true for me, and it may not end up pretty. Just...Jesus. I ended up dealing with low blows, and they all synergized into one great mess.

I don't feel suicidal. Oddly, I feel less angry at myself, or anything anymore. I'm just sad. Perhaps that is a sign of maturity; anger barely changes anything. It can, but it usually doesn't.
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I'm experiencing anxiety and stuff at this time. It is just the time of the year; three years ago was the day when my mother entered hospice, and she died two months later. You'd think that it would get better, and in some ways it ways, but in quite a few other ways it hasn't. I still dream about my mother on the odd occasion, but it really does feel like she's dead now. It has been that way for roughly half a year.

Tomorrow is also the five year anniversary of me leaving MTSU. I can't decide if that is a long time or a short one. Plenty has changed about both myself and others (I don't trust alcohol anymore, I don't like to party, I don't like bars, and one of my friends is dead). But even if not, it doesn't matter because that phase has passed and I doubt that I'll ever meet those people or visit that place again. I mean, sure, you never know, but it just seems unlikely. I did like being there, for the most part, but it is time to move on. On to what, though, I am not sure. I don't have much of a clue, to be honest. Oh well, at least I can say that I more or less act like an adult now.

So I'm just dealing with seasonal shit. Mostly in my personal life, but there have been a few things in the environment, as well. I must have allergies, because my eyes hurt and my nose isn't always doing well. I also don't like it when it suddenly gets hot. Mostly, though, I feel like I have mild dementia, because I can't focus, I get very angry for no reason, I forget things, and I feel like I'm hallucinating half the time. Then again, I seem to do that around this time of the year, and this was true even before my mother dying and then dead.

I've been having odd bouts of hypnagogic visions. It is cool that I have them, but I can't control them very well. I'm just taken to different vistas, and I can see them as plainly as if my eyes were open, but there isn't much to do in those places, if you even can do anything in the first place. Whenever I request a vision or an action of my own creation, it seems like my subconscious taunts me and either denies it, or gives me something I wouldn't expect. It seems that even in either the Astral plane or the Mental plane, I have little to no power.

Just...I don't know. It just feels crazy.
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Two odd things happened.

One, the people downstairs had their apartment broken into and ransacked. The guy who did it broke the window of the room right below mine and then just fucked everything up. I slept right through it; I vaguely heard loud noises but I shrugged them off, because I'm used to those guys being loud. Apparently, the place was fucked, and almost everything was taken. Some people think that the guy who did it was one of the people who used to live there. I figured that it was a personal matter, because they are known to piss others off and my car, that was right next to the window, wasn't even touched. You'd think that the criminal would be smart enough to at least break a car window, in order to make it look more random. But no, nothing was stolen from my car; not even the spare change (that actually happened about a year ago).

The people downstairs are gone now. I take it that they are scared. Well, I guess no rednecks are going to be living down there anytime soon.

The second thing caught me almost as much off-guard. My roommate told me that he didn't want to sign the lease, so we both agreed to drop it. A few days later, when I asked him to sign the drop form, he said that his friend and his girlfriend from California are going to move in here together, and that they don't like sharing a room. Essentially, he is going to stay and I am going to have to move out. That is bullshit, and he even incidentally said that he was talking to his friend about this for about a month, so obviously this was premeditated. I wasn't angry; just depressed and disappointed. I figured out that the two of us didn't quite get along anymore, but not to this extent. As a result, I've stopped reading for a while and I'm not cooking as much, although I'm still writing something right now.

I'm just so fucking stressed and paranoid. I mean, the roommate wasn't my friend, but I thought him to be better than that. You can live with someone for years and not really know them at all, I guess. I'm going to find a single bedroom apartment or a studio apartment just so that I don't even have to deal with this possibility again. I've stopped drinking beer in order to save up some money for the move. I'll probably only scrounge up roughly $200 from that, but that is better than nothing.

So yeah, I don't trust people anymore and I don't want to be friends with anyone. Although I am looking forward to moving; it would be cool to have my own apartment, all to myself. More privacy, and no one fucking bothers you. I was thinking only about a week or so ago that I do love this place, but that I could in theory live here for the rest of my life, and that fucking scared me. I don't like change, but the thought of things never changing is something I don't like even more. I don't want to live in an artificial la-la-land; I need to grow up every once in a while.

I just need to move on. But this was all because my roommate couldn't deal with his own problems, so he focused on mine. A familiar theme, both inside and outside of my private life.
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It has been a while.

Some stuff has happened. For roughly three weeks, I've been taking DXM every other day as an experiment. This was prompted by Rite Aid having a "Two for One" deal on their syrups; I enjoyed this for a while until I learned that I could buy three bottles of gelcaps for only three dollars at the local Dollar Tree for an indefinite amount of time. I've been learning a lot about the nature of DXM, as well as the nature of myself and my mind. For instance, it seems that you don't receive messages and visions from entities and spirits from without, but rather they come from your own subconscious. Essentially, you have more than one mind and self, and perhaps your mind has a mind of its own that you are usually unaware of. When you take DXM, you remove a lot of the barriers between your consciousness and your subconsciousness, and as such you can learn many things that you otherwise wouldn't. It is possible that you do become more aware of spirits and entities from the outside as well, but for the most part it is all you.

There has only been one time where I had a bad experience. That was the last time I took it, three days ago. I decided to take DXM right after I took it the day before, and I noticed that even on low doses I was getting strong visuals. When I took the last bottle of gelcaps, the euphoria and dissociation went away and my body started to heat up, with my eyes feeling odd. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, and I saw that my pupils were very dilated. I sort of panicked and thought that I got serotonin syndrome, as my legs were also twitching, but after a few minutes it became tolerable and I rolled with it. The visuals were awesome and among the most crisp I had ever seen, however I had a lot of anxiety and the trip wasn't very enjoyable.

I'd like to find other ways to explore the subconscious, but DXM is simply too fun. Outside of my last experience, I don't regret what I have done, although I should probably tone it down a bit.

About two weeks ago, I caught my roommate talking smack about me behind my back. It was stupid of him to have thought that I couldn't hear him talking on the phone, especially when his room is right across from mine. He was just going on about how he's sick and tired of hearing me talk to myself and laugh to myself, and that he has to clean up my mess. The first part is slightly understandable, however the second simply isn't true. He is the one who makes most the messes around the apartment, and there was one time where he didn't do the dishes for six months. Not to mention that he makes me wait around for well over an hour whenever I give him rides for his errands (I give him rides in exchange for him doing the dishes, which he rarely does) and just drags his feet in finding another roommate; I've been paying barely affordable rent for almost a year. He doesn't eat my food, which I am grateful for, but he has been very grouchy and unpleasant over the past few months and we don't get along as much as we used to. I feel like a fool because I have told him things that I now in retrospect should have never said, and I trusted him. He's always been weird, but I tolerated that, partially because I'm weird myself, partially because I'm a tolerant person, but perhaps mostly because I was simply too sheltered. I've only had three other roommates besides him. I don't regret living with other people, but I think that I have lived with him for too long, and now it is time to get a place of my own. I just need to figure out how.

Two of my friends were gone; one has her husband in hospice and the other had jury duty. The one who had jury duty is back now, and I have talked to her a bit and have confided in her about my recent troubles. She really is someone who I can trust; before she left for jury duty, she accidentally told me that she loved me. Of course that was an error, but I was still touched by that. I hope that my other friend is okay; I know what it is like to have a loved one dying, because my mother died more that two and half years ago. Odd that I lost my mother when I was only 28, but if she wasn't dead I'd still be living at home, not as grown up as I am now. Just goes to show you, that most clouds have a silver lining.

I collected some selected poems that I wrote from March of 2013 to March of 2014, and I'm going to write some philosophical and psychological interpretations of them. I plan on self-publishing them under the title Psychotic Poetry and Their Philosophical Interpretations; it will be great because I haven't written any books in a while, and I feel like I should. I haven't read as much books recently, but that will likely change in a few weeks.

Outside of all those things, nothing else has really happened. But a lot did, when you think about it.
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I actually had the flu for roughly three weeks last month; I only got over it about a week ago. It was odd, because I had no idea what it was like to have it, and when I got it I had no idea about what I was going through until I had it explained by others. It affected me somewhat bad for a couple of days; muscle aches, odd teeth sensations, and a horrible headache for about a day that made me feel like I was about to have a stroke. But I got over it, eventually.

The flu affected me far more psychologically, though, than it did physically. I felt really off for a few days, and I couldn't really write in a decent manner. I was pretty disorganized in my thoughts, and I thought that I was getting less intelligent. There was also a fair amount of depression, anxiety and agitation as well, and it kind of showed in my mannerisms. I'm fine now, which is a relief, but I was legitimately worried that I was suffering brain damage.

I've been wondering just how I'm going to be when I'm older. I don't think that I could stand being older if I had never done anything significant, or at the very least constantly works on something that might end up being significant. Perhaps it doesn't matter, but I honestly couldn't deal with myself being older and basically just contributing nothing to the world, like I'm a waste of space. I sort of feel this way right now, in that I feel worthless and that my future is just a huge void. At least when you are still somewhat young, you have that sense of hope, but in a few years I won't be young anymore and as such I will have no sense of hope at all. Oh well, at least I see it coming.

There has been a change in my personality recently; I'm a lot more pissed off now, and am not so shy and reluctant to show my agitation anymore. Maybe it is due to realizing that my life is kind of a ruin, and I'm a broken man, or perhaps it is because I've been cheated out of any sort of chance to really have a life outside of being on SSI. It started happening when I had the flu, so maybe my mind really was altered in some minor way. I'm not angry at anyone (well, outside of my father), because what good does that do? Most people had nothing to do with how I ended up, despite being apathetic people in general. Being angry at others just causes further grief and drama. And perhaps anger isn't really even the right word for the whole thing; rather, it is malcontent. I just like I'm not going to amount to anything and that my future doesn't hold anything; some of this is my fault, but most of it isn't. I was raised in a stupid way that closed almost all doors of opportunity for me. And the things that I did right, such get a Master's degree, never amounted to anything in the end. My life is just a dud. If I didn't have SSI, Medicaid and Food Stamps, I'd likely either be homeless or working some job that wouldn't even pay me enough to live on (trust me, I've been there before). I'm not even trying to whine, moan and cry; I am indeed grateful for what I'm given. But on the other hand, I feel like I have little, if anything to live for. I read a lot, and I want to start a blog so that I can share my ideas with people, but that is really about it. I can't even finish writing books anymore, because it just feels so fruitless. The feeling that I won't be anything significant is something that I just can't shake off.

Man, I really am whining. This kind of disgusts me. I still enjoy things, I still like living my days most of the time, and I still have some friends, so I just should forget about this whole thing for a while.
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I had a dream last night, where I was at the old house in Pendleton, the one on the farm. My mother was present, and she had married another man, a German who looked similar to a previous professor that I had years ago. He kept on bossing me around, but I was having none of it. During the midst of it, I suddenly said "You're not my real father." Then I left, and I was in the parking lot of the house; it was raining, and I could see three radio antennae on the hills glowing red (it was night). I thought about where I should go, and I decided that I could take my car and go to two shopping malls in some towns that I dreamed about roughly a month ago (that was kind of neat that I thought of locations from a previous dream; maybe there is a unified dream world). I then did something with an animal, but I don't remember what.

And then it cut to another dream, where for some reason I was a woman. I supposedly had to show up in court, and I was at the outside entrance to the lobby; there was a sign saying what to wear to court, and with what, in abbreviations. Apparently there was a rule that you couldn't bring guns to the court, which should have been obvious, but then a female police officer showed me pictures of a rifle on the floor, along with a squirrel that had been killed in court.

I was free to leave, which I did. I walked around the neighborhood, and I was behind an old apartment complex, where I saw a VHS rental store. No one seemed to be in there, so I went in, and they had some fairly strange, but interesting tapes and other objects. When I went out, I saw myself in third person as a woman who had revealing battle armor on, and the armor gradually changed to a demon that was molesting me. After a while, I looked at myself in third person again, and I was naked. I had a female body, but something about my lower half was...exaggerated. Then the dream ended.

All in all, I've been feeling slightly better. Just feel like giving love to a certain type of woman that I probably never could, and somewhat distressed over that. But it is still a step up; I now think about selflessly giving love, rather than selfishly receiving it.

Someone on OKCupid messaged me back. I may or may not pursue it; the woman is good looking, but she has a kid (she's older than me, slightly) and I sort of get some not-so-good vibes. Still, it might not hurt to do so.

I did DXM again two days ago. I didn't get my ass handed to me, but I still didn't know what the hell I was doing. The visions seemed to increase in detail and color, and I got the vibes from the spirits that I was on the right track to becoming a wizard. I could actually see, faintly, the spirits around me with my eyes open. I didn't get a lot of insights during the trip, but the next day I learned a lot from it. That seems to be the trend, now; the greater the message, the longer it takes to figure it out.

I've been reading Jung again. The book is titled The Psychology of the Subconscious, and although I've only read about a sixth of it, it is really cool. I'm learning a lot about the subject, and it will help me with writing my book in a month or two.
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There really isn't much to talk about.

I didn't miss smoking yesterday. I don't seem to get addicted to tobacco.

I've been think about a lot, though. The main question that my family had about me (up until last year, actually) was how I was going to take care of myself. Most of my family didn't think that I was capable of living on my own, but I always knew that I could, and here I am, having lived outside of my family for over a year. I really don't know why they believed that I was basically an overgrown child when it was so obvious that I wasn't; I personally think that it was because it was their way of having control and power over me (they got off on that) and they wanted to look better by comparison. It really fucked me up, and it still does, but at least I don't have to live in such a poisonous environment anymore, and am more or less independent.

The question that I have for myself now is this: Am I ever going to amount to anything? I have the fear that I won't ever, but that will only be certain if I don't try. Very few people are success stories from the very beginning; there are really no born losers or winners. Fame and glory is really something that everyone has to put a serious amount of effort into. I guess the real question is where I should put in my effort. I've always wanted to be an artist, but outside of pixel art I haven't gone anywhere with it. I write poetry, and sometimes the poetry is decent, however I don't know how to write them long enough. Philosophy is something I really enjoy a lot, but I'm relatively uneducated about it; that is being worked on, though.

Why should I amount to anything? Have I seriously asked myself that? I think it is because I was so used to people thinking that I was a dimwit, when I wasn't. I want to show the world that I am not a waste of space; that my life can produce something. I don't care if it is good works, or if it benefits people (because there are only a handful that I care about). It just has to be significant, somehow. I'm not content being placid and just living on the surface of life. I'm not the kind of guy who just goes through the motions and works 9-to-5.

My own life has to be a set of works. It has to mean something. And right now, even through all my educational efforts, it is just a void, waiting to be filled. It may always be a void.
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I have this crushing anxiety in the evenings now. I really don't know why that is, outside of probably the after-effects from drinking that wine. I really hate it; the first time I had it two days ago I was afraid of hurting either myself or others. I didn't used to have any of these problems so I really don't know why it is fucking with me now.

All I know is that I feel better after taking Olanzapine and smoking a second cigar. I really hate having to take medication because of how it fucks with my body and brain. I'm too tired all the time, I feel dull, and I'm not losing weight. Although it should be said that I do think more logically than I used to. I just don't like feeling like this.

I've lost my passion. My poems suck now and I can barely read philosophy. I just feel so down. I'm not going to hurt myself because I still want to see what the future can offer, but nonetheless I'm just depressed. There are short-term solutions for that, but seriously, what is really going for me in this life? What am I ever going to accomplish? I can't help but to feel like I'm a piece of refuse.
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I've talked about my dark nature before, or if I haven't, I've always been meaning to.

I have a lot of hurtful and angry thoughts in my head, for some reason. And they always seem to reappear at random times during the day, as if I have some mood disorder or something. I don't, but it does seem like that (not to mention that it does run in my family). The randomness is baffling; sometimes I have a near-constant rage that lasts for weeks, and other times months will go by where I'm barely like that at all.

For the longest time, I've wondered why I hate so many things, and why I'm almost addicted to these thoughts. And then yesterday, it hit me: I'm the kind of person that thrives off of negative energy. I get some sort of high from not only the suffering of others, but also from myself.

I don't know if that makes me a bad person by default. I don't particularly want to hurt people; I just think about it a lot. I guess being dark is really from your thoughts and emotional dynamics alone. I've been light before, from the morning glories I took about two months ago. I didn't like it; I felt alien and fake. Dark just seems to suit me better.
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I'm just sort of here, right now. I woke up at 5 am and I almost feel as if I had a stroke. Bad sleep and too much heat, I guess.

I finally played Shining the Holy Ark yesterday; I was amazed at how much fun I had. I normally don't play video games anymore, but I'm starting to see that they may provide a great distraction from drinking too much beer. Last night after I started playing it, I didn't feel like having another beer. That is wonderful.

I wrote another paper on Godel's Incompleteness theorem today; it is my way of staying active and accomplishing something, I suppose. I plan on writing a philosophical paper every Tuesday, just because I should.

Apparently the people who interviewed me last Wednesday called my former boss on Friday, and she said some good things to them. I'm really glad that they took me seriously, and it may turn out that I will actually get the job. I need both the distraction and the money.

Well, that is it. Wish I didn't feel so weird, physically and otherwise.
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I had a dream last night where I was a North Korean who was Kim Jong Chul's best friend. That was really weird.

Apparently my brother wants to move to Portland. I haven't been there in over eight years, so I wouldn't know if it is a good city or not, but I feel like this isn't a good move. I pretty much know that he doesn't have a job lined up there, and that it will be more expensive. Although I should also say that it wasn't like living in our old hometown in Pendleton was really doing anything for him, either. At least he will have greater opportunity there, if he isn't going to be foolish about it.

I'm angry right now, and I was especially pissed off last afternoon. I just can't get over my delusions about women. I have these delusions for a number of different reasons, one being that I know for a fact I'd be better off if I was one. I'd simply have a better life, because women are given much more opportunity in Western society. Sort of a shame since men are far more talented and capable. This makes me want to do things.

I take a look at myself, and I see a man who is capable of doing great things, but cannot, either due to an oppressive society or because of my own failings. I'm almost 30 and the only thing I've ever done is get an M.A. That actually is an achievement, but what have I done with it? I just see a life full of disappointment and false hope for me. Even though I'm a good poet, what are the chances that I'll get famous for that?

I'm just going to fail.
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I really don't know why I have so much hate in my heart.

It didn't have to be like this. I wasn't always like this. I don't want to be like this.

I think the reason why I'm like this is because I'm not really close to anyone (partially my fault) and I have the fear that I will never be appreciated or loved.

My past is filled with moments where I was either shunned or rejected from a job or something else simply due to being different. It didn't matter if I dressed the part or was technically more than qualified; they simply saw something in me that they didn't like and as such they discriminated against me.

Part of the reason why I hate most women is because I know that if I was born one, I wouldn't suffer this injustice. Women are fucking coddled in this society. Yes, you may look at places outside of western civilization where women have it worse then men, but that isn't the world I live in. In the western world, women have it much easier. Men are the ones who truly suffer and are exploited in this society.

This is all due to the fact that I've never been loved. Only looked down upon, pretty much. If I'm not ever going to be loved despite how hard I try to be a decent person, then what is the point in being decent, you know? It is a fool's game.

I just see nothing but a life filled with suffering, loneliness, hatred, discrimination and false hope for me. Again, it didn't have to be like this. I was once a good person.

I don't want to hate. But I don't see any other way. Women could never know the pain of a man.
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The panic and anxiety has severely lessened, but I'm really just as disturbed as ever.

I really wonder if it will get better. People keep on saying that but to be honest it just seems that I'm becoming more and more fucked up. It isn't due to a lack of caring and trying, but ultimately, what can I do?

I don't really trust anyone anymore. My family, my roommate, the few friends that I have. It is like they are picking up on something and they are distancing themselves from me now. I'm used to people stabbing me in the back but that doesn't make it any less painful. I'm just doomed to be alone; I can't get close to anyone.

I don't want to leave the apartment for at least another year but I really wonder if I have to. I wonder if I can get along with people in the long term; it just seems like things fall apart after several months.

I'm just a loser. I have no girl, have no social life, and I barely do anything. I have accomplished almost nothing in my life. And it will probably always be that way.

I really wonder what the point of my life is. I wonder if God simply wants me to suffer. As a result, I have a lot of anger and hate in my heart, especially towards women.

I'm not going to finish the book. It is too weird. I think that Olanzapine has helped me realize that. Instead, I'm going to focus on a different project.

I really wonder when I'm going to stop suffering. I don't deserve this. Right now, all I want to do is hurt people.
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I'm just so angry right now.

I'm suffering. I can barely think straight and I'm filled with panic, fear and anxiety. I have the morbid fear that I'm going to have a heart attack; I constantly feel pains in my chest. I constantly feel like screaming and crying, laying in a fetal position on the floor. I'm filled with agitation, having the fear that I'm going to go crazy soon and hurt someone. I constantly shake, with tremors in my hands and I occasionally feel the need to vomit. I can barely eat.

Why am I suffering? Why did just one dose of Sudafed permanently fuck me up like this? None of the substances that I did for recreational purposes ever fucked me up even half as bad as this. I don't understand how just one pill that I innocently took could seemingly ruin my life, or at least seriously hinder it.

I'm almost entirely anti-drug now. Not only recreational substances, but also the legitimate medications, too. I have a fragile brain and I can't break it.

The ER can't help me. The psych ward can't help me. Alcohol can't help me. The few friends and professionals that I see usually aren't around.

I need help. I know that. But I don't know what to do.
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God, fuck my life.

In the late afternoon yesterday I took a Sudafed, thinking that it would help my headache and eyes. Turns out, it didn't; it just made me all shaky, scatterbrained, paranoid and anxious. I tried to tough it out at first but when I went to the library and discovered that Sudafed is a stimulant, I motherfucking panicked. Stimulants do not go very well with my brain chemistry at all.

So I went to my former boss's office, who is also my friend. I told her the situation and she agreed to drop me off at the ER. That may have seemed like overkill but I actually killed two birds with one stone. For one, I was told that my vitals were fine, and I got my eyes checked. Turns out, they are normal, with no glaucoma or anything. He ended up diagnosing me with conjunctivitis and gave me a prescription for anti-allergy eye drops and generic anti-anxiety pills.

I couldn't afford the eye drops, but I did get a refund on the Sudafed, so getting the pills was just fine.

Turns out the doctor in the ER knew my grandfather, mother and father; he recognized my name (I'm named after my grandfather). We had a nice talk while he was doing his thing.

I didn't sleep at all last night, and went to the library lounge to use the internet at around five in the morning. That was pleasant enough.

By eight or so I felt like crap. I decided to go back home at around eight thirty and proceeded to lay down on my bed, taking another dose of the pills.

I called my therapist and told her what happened, and she basically told me to tell my psychiatrist. That psychiatrist later told me to stop taking the pills, because they would only make my anxiety worse. Knowing how I was suffering even more after I took it, I believed her.

A lot of bad shit has happened in the past month. I do not have the easiest life in the world. I mean, everyone has problems, and some of it is my fault, but I rarely seem to catch a break.

But it is fine for now. At least I'm scared away from drugs for good, more or less. Although this time was relatively innocent.

August 2017

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