so with last night’s ordeal and today, I’m realizing that something in the background is trying to cut off any sort of positive feelings about sex.

Thoughts of deerboi and I that previously may have turned me on as much as I hated them have now immediately been met with “He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t love you. He never tried with you. There’s nothing biologically that can link you two together in a relationship. You two would be nothing more then before – fuckbuddies.”

With memories of Kaizen and I in bed…similar.

And now with any thoughts, it’s as if for lack of a better term here…the firewall blocked the application.

Sex seems more gross to me then before. I’m not super interested in any of it. I want to spend more time then ever trying to stay afloat with funds and such. I don’t care to socialize.

Maybe I’ve been lost for so long, trying to pick up the remaining pieces, that I’ve just come to the realization that I’m not going back to what I used to be.

Maybe hurting myself and being hurt has caused so much that I can’t return to normal.

Or maybe I did it all to myself…because I don’t care to follow the norm. Never liked therapy, I don’t want to open up to people, asking for help doesn’t get me far…and I want to see results. I don’t want smoke and mirrors, I don’t want drugs, I don’t want to be lied to and told everything will be okay and nothing is ever my fault.

I know I fuck up. Probably more then others. I don’t listen because I don’t think it’ll happen. My dumbass learns by example, not by being told. But that’s all this world is. It’s always “oh it’s okay you tried and did your best. There’s always next time”

No, there’s not. Next time may not come. My best is not the best. It’s not what people expect. There’s a degree in which you shouldn’t care what people think. But then there’s other times in which you need to. When you’re at the bottom and you need to at least smile through the pain.

When you at the top…when youve worked for your happiness…when you have averted the artificial crisis-es(?) that are in front of us every day….

Maybe then, you don’t need to worry. You don’t need to fake it…but when will that be? Will you make it mentally? Physically? How much can the human body truly take?

Or will my last thoughts be a deranged lustful state after losing my job and my life….my final hours are nothing more then me frantically half-apologizing to those I’ve hurt while I get used by every guy in a sex club…getting drunk off of alcohol…

Finally, my last seconds, breathing in the fumes and particles that sit in the barrel of my gun…the slide in my mouth, moving with all of the other mechanics of my firearm after the pull of my trigger…

There’s many ways ones life can go. I don’t believe in all suicide cases being a matter of they have given up, but rather they think it’s too late or they have lost everything. Family, friends, career, possibly all over lies.

But I think mine would be a mix of both giving up and realizing that there’s no recovering. The temptation calls for me often. The call of the depths of hell, telling me that I’d have fun running through guys, paying for prostitutes, and maybe I’d find happiness through it all. I know that if I break, I unfortunately may find myself down that path.

Which is why I need to work harder to patch any vulnerability, any way in which I slip and fall. I may not be high up the cliff, but I don’t have any safety gear to catch me if something happens.

Not like Kaizen…I don’t have any certifications or something to tell someone I’m smart. I have to play in the circus and do the dances like everyone else.

It’s funny – I used to fantasize about potentially overstressing and/or falling into a coma. Be days on end without saying a word to anyone in hopes those that I used to love and the others that I still do love, all family, friends, and lovers…would show up. Tell me they missed me, they still loved me, that they were proud of me, that I need to stand tall…

And while that desire of affirmation may still be there…I would still fail them. I would fall behind.

So with that, I push. I continue. I stop fantasizing about things being handed on a silver platter and I try to look forward to the future. I even find myself praying in some cases, in hopes that even if I do end up six feet under, that it was for a good cause and someone picks up after me. Sometimes I tell myself that I need to pull this weight because if I don’t, who will? Who will put a smile on faces that I may have done so for? Who will save my family that I may bring sorrow and shame to?

No one. And with that…could be the end of my family and bring worse events.

I’m not some main character. I’m not Ryan Gosling in Drive or John Wick from Fortnite. I am my own person and I’ve told myself that even if I don’t care to live for myself, I need to live to bring good to this world in any way possible. Whether it’s wisdom and knowledge, happiness and smiles, or to help another brother out.

I just need to continue moving forward, no matter what.