I’m With Stupid (*Points to Self*)

In addition to depression and anger, feelings of stupidity have been added to my cocktail of emotions. I feel stupid for wanting her. I feel stupid for thinking that it could work. I feel stupid for believing that she thought I was different and special. Really, I feel stupid for putting myself in a situation that has me feeling the way I do. While I’m quite far from a genius, I do hate feeling stupid.

I Miss Her

Just when I thought I was making progress on my mission to not care…I woke up. Today was tough and I’m not sure why. Nothing triggered the additional sadness. I just woke up missing her tremendously and that feeling stayed with me throughout the day. It’s not just her that I miss though. I also miss the dream of her.

I miss how our relationship was from February to April. I miss having someone to talk to about anything and everything, any hour of the day. We used to spend hours a day talking, whether it was in person or over iMessage. I miss those days when I’d wake up to a text from her and go to bed telling her, “Goodnight Princess. You’re awesome and I adore you.” I miss the sound of her voice and seeing her smile. I miss…her.

Then there’s the dream of her. For the last few months, there’s nothing that I wanted more than to be her boyfriend. I miss having daydreams where I’d think, “Wouldn’t being with her be completely wonderful?” I’m a dreamer — always have been — and Asika was one of the most delightful dreams that I’ve ever had.

Losing her and the dream of her has me feeling empty. I’m back to where I was at the end of last year, but it’s even worse. The end of my marriage was a slow burn that took years to completely dissolve. As bad as it was, I prepared myself (as best I could, anyway) for the ending. Losing Asika was sudden. A bunch of things came up over text and she was out of my life. It’s like the difference between constant, nagging pain and sudden, sharp pain.

My apartment feels so lifeless, though I suppose that how I want it to feel. She was the only person that I’ve had over for years. I guess that’s appropriate because she was the only person that I let in my heart for years. I’m hopeful that I won’t make that mistake again. I hate feeling this way. I hate missing her.

Dr. Bigelow Must Die

If I could bring a fictional character to life, it would be Dr. Bigelow from Louie. Look at some of the nonsense he spouts.

This is love — missing her because she’s gone, wanting to die. You’re so lucky. You’re like a walking poem. Would you rather be some kind of a fantasy? Some kind of a Disney ride? Is that what you want?

Don’t you see? This is the good part. This is what you’ve been digging for all this time.

Now you finally have it in your hand — this sweet nugget of love, sweet, sad love, and you want to throw it away. You’ve got it all wrong.

That’s strange. I don’t consider myself lucky and I certainly don’t consider this the “good” part. I also have no desire to be a lugubrious walking poem. What good is that?!?

My fondest wish is that I could be with the girl that I’ve been dreaming about for the past few months. That would be lucky. I really don’t see the upside to heartbreak and depression.

But wait, there’s more!

The bad part is when you forget her — when you don’t care about her, when you don’t care about anything.

The bad part is coming, so enjoy the heartbreak while you can, for God’s sakes.

Yes, because heartbreak is oh so enjoyable. I’m actually hoping to get to the “bad” part he’s referring to. Things would be exponentially easier if I didn’t care about anything or anyone. That’s what I’m striving to do.

So F*ck you Dr. Bigelow. If I had magical powers, I would bring you to life just so I could smash your skull with a baseball bat.

Since I lack the required conjuring skills, perhaps I should go after the writers instead. *sigh* This is why I try not to watch much television.

Exes to the Rescue?

Waan pinged me on Facebook earlier today. She was asking if I was going to visit soon. Her attention is selective; it depends on if she has a boyfriend or not. Still, it was nice having someone check up on me and ask how I was doing. In the last week, Aletheia was the only person that approached me first. After depression stabilizes and things go from dreadful to awful, I’m wary about sharing my feelings with people. I’m morose and whiny — not a good combination and not a good look.

Nutch shared an article about getting over someone. Some of it sounded thoughtful and helpful.

You might feel fine the moment you suppress your emotions, but that moment won’t last long because all of your feelings will find their way out eventually.

It doesn’t matter how much time you spent strategically hiding them, how much energy you spent ignoring them. Feelings will always release themselves.

In order to get over someone, you have to allow yourself to feel all of the sad emotions that will inevitably plague you during the post-breakup period. You have to feel it all to heal it all.

Some of it sounded terrifying.

You’ll feel depressed and broken. You’ll feel desperate and forlorn. You’ll feel empty and hollow.

You’ll feel like your heart has been burnt to a crisp, and instead of pumping blood, it pumps bits of ashes throughout your bloodstream, darkening your thoughts and clouding them with despair, poisoning every crevice of your soul.

Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ll stick to alternating between suppressing my emotions and feeling awful.

Hopefully that cycle won’t last long. I’m trying to adopt a new philosophy about people in general. If I can become as callous as I hope to be, then problems like these feelings won’t be an issue in the future. It’s good to have goals.

Everything, Nothing, and Dirty Little Secrets

She once told me, “You have made many of my dreams, needs and wants come true and for that I can’t ever thank you enough,” and, “you are everything and more.” Yet if you peruse her social media, there’s very little evidence that we knew each other at all, let alone meant anything to each other. Was it lie? I’d like to think not.

I once told her, “You’re my dirty little secret.” That stems from not telling her coworkers precisely how dear she was to me. In retrospect, maybe I was her dirty little secret. More likely, I was just a placeholder — someone that gave her love, affection, and attention while she got over her failed marriage until she was ready to be with someone else. Last week she said, that I helped her get over her ex-husband. Now she has feelings for someone else. How wonderful for her. Where do placeholders go after they’ve been discarded?

Maybe it’s good (for her) that she doesn’t have many photos and videos of the time we spent together. I’m easier to forget that way. I’m sure she’ll forget about me and what we had soon. I’m also sure that I’ll look at the photos I have of her every day for a long time, missing her immensely and feeling pain over the way things ended up.

I’m trying to convince myself that emotions are just random chemical reactions that don’t really mean anything. Things are just more convenient that way. It’s also easier to reconcile that perhaps I was everything and more to her, once upon a time. Soon, I’ll be nothing.

Friends

Even though Asika and I initially bonded over the TV show Friends, this post isn’t about that. It’s about friends that I don’t really have anymore. For a long time, I had many amazing friends — excellent people that I could count on for anything and everything. From high school to college to New York to San Francisco, I had a brilliant support network of incredible people. I haven’t had that in years and I’m suffering for it now.

Part of it was getting married. Marriage requires work and you have to put a lot of yourself into it. A bigger part of it was my marriage falling apart. Even before she left last year, the two years prior to that were tiring. I tried, struggled, and ultimately failed to keep things together. The time and energy I put into trying to keep my marriage going caused me to neglect a lot of great friends. Of course they all had lots of things to do and their own lives to lead. Relationships change, fade, and end.

One of the people I was closest to in the world — someone that would do anything for me — died of cancer in 2009. Another person that I loved immensely has two kids to worry about these days. Someone that I used to be dearly close to has a marriage of his own to worry about. Another fantastic friend moved back to New York. Then there are people that, for whatever reason, I’ve just lost touch with.

Again, a lot of this is my fault. I had duties and obligations to someone else, even though in retrospect the work I put into the relationship wasn’t reciprocated (hmmmm, pattern?). I had to let some friendships go.

Certainly there are people that I could turn to in dire situations, but something like heartbreak is…touchier. Even though it might ruin me, it’s not going to kill me. Crying and whining to someone (which I’ve done some of on Facebook Messenger already) makes me hate myself. I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions I’m having. Exercise is giving me an outlet for it, but doesn’t heal the problem. I need help, time, and attention. I need friends like I used to have.

Okay, silver lining — Ether said she was going to try to visit next month. That would be amazing for me, but I’m not going to count on it. As dear as she was and is to me, she has her own family to worry about and was flaky in her younger years. Still, she’s all I have to look forward to right now. I hope she makes it.

Happy Sad

Yesterday, social media exploded with happy posts celebrating the SCOTUS decision to legalize same-sex marriage. Many of my friends were thrilled with the decision, as they should be — it’s a fantastic thing that was long overdue. Naturally, I was happy about it too, but since I’m incredibly self absorbed, I couldn’t be as happy as I should have.

Yesterday was the first day this week that I saw someone other than Asika. Paul and I caught Ted 2 for review. Paul has a calming and comfortable presence, but I was still nervous about seeing him. I’ve known Paul for a long, long time, but I don’t really know him; I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation about hopes, dreams, and stuff like that. I didn’t tell him that Asika and I would no longer be spending time together; I’m not really sure why I didn’t. I was also nervous about randomly crying while we were out. Thankfully, I only had one crying spell and it was during the movie (thank you darkness!). I enjoyed Ted 2, but as I was watching it, there were several times that I wished Asika was next to me. I’ve always loved hearing her laugh and there were several scenes that would have cracked her up.

For the last couple of years, weekends have usually meant vaping events. I’ve turned down work at a couple of them and have ignored invites for a few more. I just don’t want to see many people right now and it would be embarrassing to start crying at a vape event. I especially don’t want to see couples, whether I know them or not. On my daily walks, I get angry and bitter and sad whenever I see a couple holding hands or being cute together. I want them all to be obliterated by a laser defense system.

Hmmmm, wouldn’t it be funny if I were hosting a vaping event and had a meltdown on the microphone? It would be like Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer. Yeah, maybe I better not host anything for a while. A public breakdown would be bad for the brand.

Lugubrious Loop 2015 Toma Edition

In no particular order…. (Also, don’t judge me.)

  • “Time After Time” — Cyndi Lauper
  • “True Colors” — Cyndi Lauper
  • “Sometimes She Cries” — Warrant
  • “Something to Believe In” — Poison
  • “Life Goes On” — Poison
  • “Life Loves a Tragedy” — Poison
  • “Born to Be My Baby” — Bon Jovi
  • “I Saw Red” — Warrant
  • “Blind Faith” — Warrant
  • “Heaven” — Warrant
  • “Heaven” (Acoustic Version) — Bryan Adams
  • “Dreams” — Van Halen
  • “Why Can’t This Be Love?” — Van Halen
  • “I Won’t Forget You” — Poison
  • “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” — Poison
  • “I Remember You” — Skid Row
  • “Was it Something I Said?” — OMD
  • “Never Tear Us Apart” — INXS
  • “Never Tear Us Apart” — Paloma Faith
  • “All Of Me” — Stryper
  • “Honestly” — Stryper
  • “More Than Words” — Extreme
  • “A Thousand Years” — Christina Perri
  • “Just the Way You Are” — Bruno Mars
  • “Bold As Love” — Jimi Hendrix
  • “Bold As Love” — Elise Testone
  • “I’ll Be There For You” — Bon Jovi
  • “More Than This” — Roxy Music
  • “My Fondest Wish” — Laura Watling
  • “My Fondest Wish” — Sometimes I Wonder

Bold As Love

“Anger, she smiles, towering in shiny metallic purple armor.”

I think I’ve entered the “anger” stage of my depression. It’s a generally unspecific anger. I pretty much hate everything right now. I’m trying to be angry with her and on some level I should be. There were some things — a lot of things, actually — that she could have done better and there were several times when she took me for granted. It’s frustrating that I can’t direct my anger towards her; when I think about Asika, it’s mostly about all the things I’m going to miss and the beautiful moments we had…and how she’s my dream girl.

And no, I’m not angry at myself. I know that I have a lot to offer and Asika was lucky to have my attention. I’m confident that I would have been a great boyfriend to her and I would have worked hard to make her happy. For several months, I treated her better than anyone else in my life. Was it deserved? Some people have told me that I was too kind and generous to her. I don’t care. It’s what I wanted to do for her as a friend. She gave me things that I haven’t had in a long time and made me feel things that I haven’t felt in a long time. In my mind, she deserved everything I gave her.

So I’m left with these weird “Ari Gold” temper tantrums. The anger just wells up and bursts. I’ll see something completely innocuous and want it to die. I’ll see someone on the street make a simple mistake and hope they get hit by a car. I tried to punch a bee today because it flew too close to me while I was walking. You know, after typing them out, none of these are good examples. I’m having a hard time explaining it. Oh well, I’m sure the rage will pass and the tears will come back (not that they ever fully went away).

And yes, some people might think it’s sacrilege not to post a clip of the excellent Jimi Hendrix version of “Bold as Love,” but I like the Elise Testone cover. Jimi’s is the best, of course, but Elise’s version is sexy.