You know, it's damn hard to just start writing in this diary again after such a long hiatus, and it's not for lack of things to say. Actually I feel like I have a ton of stuff to say, and I really don't know where to start. Seems like any one thing I want to write about is lacking if it doesn't include all the other things, but I imagine this is only something that has been dreamed up by my dysfunctional brain. Well ...

let's get started, huh?

I hate myself. No, not in that "I hate myself, I'm a big fucking downer, blah blah blah" kind of way, if that makes any sense. When I say I hate myself, it's not coming from a place of depression so much, it's more that I truly hate the way my brain works much of the time. I don't dislike myself in totality... jesus, where am I going with this. Let me give you an example. I'm kind of a clumsy oaf sometimes, I sometimes don't know exactly what to say in any given social situation, and I also have a bit of a gut. Three random things. The thing is I don't necessarily hate those specific things about myself. My worry is not that I don't say the right things or that I have a gut or that I'm kind of clumsy, my worry is that I'll stress about these things that I know are totally meaningless. The reason that I hate myself is because consciously I know that people in the world don't pay me any more mind than anyone else and that if I'm out somewhere and I do something stupid or say something wrong or whatever, in the long run it doesn't matter. The only one likely to remember it is me, and everyone else will go home and forget the whole fucking thing. So the thing that I hate is the fact that I know that shit, but still feel totally crippled and don't know how to get past it. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of everything, and that's what I hate. I hate that fear is going to ruin my life.

Let me give some example of this. Say I'm driving down the street and I suddenly decide that I'd like to stop at the convenience store and get a coke. Sounds normal so far, but I've got you already! This would never happen. I never drive anywhere and just suddenly decide I'm going to do something. Far more likely would be that I would have thought of the coke about an hour before hand and I would have pictured the whole ordeal of driving to whatever convenicence store, getting out of my car, going in, paying for it, making small talk with the cashier if provoked, getting back in my car, and leaving. This is just a small thing, this shit translates to basically everything in my life. I have to plan it out, I have to obsess and over think everything, and I hate that.

Really what it all comes down to is a general fear that people won't like me. I don't know why I'm so afraid of not being liked by people, because for the most part I don't really like people myself. Not in general. My misanthropy runs high these days, that's for sure. So why am I concerned with being liked by people? Is it just because I'm lazy and don't want to deal with the hassle of whatever confrontation might come from having someone not like me? All this means that I'll always laugh at your stupid racist sexist jokes (even the ones that aren't funny), and I'll always say, "That's a good point," when you say something that I totally disagree with, and I'll never tell you to just shut the fuck up when you're being a stupid asshole. It makes it very easy for everyone else, but I get to hate myself every day for it.

Even right now I feel like I should make some excuse for what I'm writing, like I should say, "I know I'm bitching and moaning," just so no one has a place to say, "Stop bitching and moaning." Seems silly, doesn't it? Especially since I have no guestbook and no email attached to this diary? How do I get over this bullshit? I think it only gets worse the more I become aware and conscious of the things my brain does. Ignorance is bliss, for sure.

I'll probably write ten fucking updates this evening because Jenn is at work until ten and I've got fucking nothing to do around here. I feel really restless, like I should be doing something. Painting (that's probably going to be my next entry), reading, cleaning. I don't know.

I should go for a ride on my bike. I bought a bike, by the way. Just some cheap thing from walmart, but it's still cool to have. The thing is, I haven't been on a bike for years and I am really out of shape. That's fine, things are mostly flat around my place, at least where I'm riding. The thing is, my driveway is on a huge hill and by the time I'm halfway up the thing my weak little knees just can't handle it anymore. Under no circumstances can I makeit up the driveway, seriously. So I feel stupid jumping off the thing and walking the rest of the way up, lest my neighbors think me a pussy or something. See what I'm talking about? Well, maybe I'll go for a ride anyway. Would probably do me good to get my blood pumping and something about endorphins or whatever.

More to come.