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I gotta ask Oct. 5th, 2013 @ 07:31 pm
Seriously, what is the point in living if the people you loved the dearest hate you and spurn you? I am cast out, I am exiled. I don't have anybody left, no offense to my friends and my distant family but I just don't have anybody left who I love so deeply anymore. It would be one thing if they had died or if we were forced to be apart but that's not it at all, I am just loathed and despised. And if the people I admire and love the most think I am completely worthless then what the hell am I supposed to think? This is horrible, it really is. The more rest I get, the more sober I get, the more I am drawn to the inexorable conclusion that I am just a terrible human being who is a blight on existence. I don't know why, and maybe that's the problem in the first place, my brain is wired wrong. I'm so fucked up that what I think is me being kind and loving is actually horrible. I fly between confusion and abject misery at the notion, I don't know what kind of creature I am anymore. B died on me, that I could sort of handle, that was horrible but it was out of anyone's control. G went mental and screwed me over, or that's how I saw it, now I can't even be sure of that. C never wanted me, I was just never good enough for her and the few times in life where we might have tried to have a go at it we mixed signals or were otherwise occupied. And Cathy, well, I was so fucked up by the time Cathy came along that I was hopeless, I guess. But now I'm better, and I keep trying to appeal to her just to give me the time of day and she won't. So that's what I'm left with, either I pick up the scraps of my life and patch together some shadow of the dreams I once had or I just give up and wander off into the wilderness. I'm not sure which I'm going to do, honestly, but my heart has been broken so many times in life that I am astounded that I can still even think. The pain is so great in me and so constant that I barely manage to see through my tears to type these cathartic things, and they don't really help. All I want is some human contact from someone I have invested my entire soul in. And I'm not worth that.

Cathy Oct. 4th, 2013 @ 04:56 am
I am once again overwhelmed by grief at having driven the wonderful amazing Cathy Laughlin from my life. I truly cherish her and miss her so much at times it is almost more than I can bear. At these lonely late hours I sit in my little badger-hole nested away afraid of the world outside and all I can do is quietly weep. All because I misspoke. Now that I remember what I said the awful stupid truth of it is that I was just clumsily drunkenly trying to say to her that I was grateful for her existence and her deigning to be kind to a pathetic failure like me, but it came out twisted and arrogant and it sounded like I was belittling her and our relationship, as if it were somehow beneath me of all people. It would be funny if it didn't make me so wretchedly miserable. The pain of Gulie's torture I have gotten over, I don't even fear her anymore I feel nothing but sympathy for what I see as her mental condition, the complete destruction of the precious girl I knew into the twisted poisonous demon of self-torture she became. But Cathy was never vicious or evil or even all that broken, she was just careful and delicate and shy and easily wounded. And what did I do? I demanded of this delicate creature the mothering soothing dominatrix power of some saggy-dugged post-menopausal mother of dozens, an earth elemental yoni creche cradle to nourish my wounded frame in was what I needed, but instead I thrashed about in pain in a soup of agony and chemical fixes and psychological tricks and games manipulations oh-so-clever that I confused myself five times before breakfast. And I expected her to be my stalwart partner through it, my unchanging lifemate. This girl who hadn't been properly cherished by a whole man who loved her, just my mechanical comfort and love which, while not terrible was nothing but vapor like the ethyl alcohol singing in my temples. So I did her a disservice to say the least, and all she wanted was some space, to let me heal. Once she had realized that I was a wreck of an idiot and she could no longer stand by and watch me flail in twisted torment what did I do? Instead of just letting it be I lashed out at her with all my fury as if SHE deserved any of my hatred: The ONE person who cared for me enough when I was completely lost and without purpose. Cathy rescued me from the void more than once, and I repaid it by scourging her with my vile bitter tongue. That's why I weep, because I fucked up. Because I was cruel to someone who I truly love and who dearly loved me. So I think I'll go to bed now. The least I can do for the memory of the kindness that Cathy and many others have given me in my life is to just be humble and continue to survive. If I can do kindness to others I will, but many see me as a broken pariah still never to be redeemed, to them I will always be a bruise on humanity. I'm going to bed now.

My schlake definition! Sep. 6th, 2013 @ 12:05 pm
I tried to get urbandictionary to accept my definition of "schlake" recently, the editors rejected it. Her's what I had entered as the definition.


A local celebrity figure in Socorro, New Mexico, known for his Daily Page and quirky personality. Highly controversial guy (people seem to like him a lot or deeply resent his existence) A highly profiecient amateur photographer and gamer of the pen-and-paper sort, he is a fixture around New Mexico Tech and the town in general. He has an extra spleen he calls "Spleeney Todd"

"Schlake asked me if he could take a picture of my boobs."
"We haven't seen schlake lately, he seems to be hiding out."
"I really miss when schlake used to run Pathfinder or Earthdawn."

Jul. 8th, 2013 @ 02:47 am
Agh, it still really wrecks me to think of all the people I was close to who don't trust me or want to talk to me ever again because of my drinking problem. I wish there were some way they could just see me now and realize that I'm done with it and just sad and lonely and scared. Oh well. Haven't touched a drop since before my sentencing in March, still not craving it and never doing it again. But it's lonely, it really is. I still smoke and I get really panicky when I leave the house sometimes because of my emotional issues from being abused and being poor, but I seriously don't want to drink AT ALL it's scary and alien to me. On the 4th I went to a party with tons of booze there and there was no craving or any of that shit they tell you you'll struggle with. The only thing I'm struggling with is crippling fear to the point of hyperventilation that I'm not good enough and that people will hurt me or not like me. I know it's stupid and childish, but it really is almost impossible for me to spend too much time alone out of the house without hyperventilating. The funny part is then I'm scared to come home because I'm afraid someone will be waiting for me. Anybody, everybody, my ex gf, my ex wife, the guy who beat me up last year, the dude who molested me at a party when I was drunk, one of the many people who took advantage of me when I was a drunk, etc, fucking ANYBODY. And this really isn't helped by that random dude Garu breaking into my house thinking his gf was screwing me. Which she wasn't. But seriously, breaking into my house? I'm already paranoid and that doesn't make it any better let me assure you. So now I'm even scared to sleep again, it's like two steps back every time I try to do anything. I always feel threatened unless someone is holding me and even then it depends on the person. I guess I'm just really fucked up or something. I get told I'm emotionally unstable, that I'm a threat to the community and shit and I'm like "Who the fuck have I HURT?" and I don't know anymore. Maybe I really did something bad and I just don't remember it and that's why everybody hates me. But I don't know and I'm really scared and the only solution as far as I can tell is to get financially secure so that I can REST and feel SAFE for just a few days. Maybe a week. Ever. I've NEVER felt safe for long in my life, every time I've felt safe enough to start to relax it's "back to work Eric!" and I just can't do it. I'm too scared now, because I TRIED working hard and doing what I was told, and then I got hurt for that by Gulie and even by Cathy (although I was pretty nuts by then so I certainly did hurt her first). So I don't know, I need some damn sleep. I'm not drinking and I'm not hurting anyone and I'm not hurting myself because I flat out refuse to do any of that crap anymore, so don't worry about me please I will be fine I just had to say this somewhere in the hopes that maybe one of my friends or people who I cherish that I fucked up with and who left me alone sees it and maybe tells me I'm not as horrible as I think I am. Gulie called me a monster all the time, and it made me feel really fucking bad for years. And I still feel like I;m a monster because people don't invite me to stuff and they put off meeting up with me and then when they DO meet up with me they seem to want to get away from me or I dominate the conversation or something. I'm probably just paranoid, but I AM paranoid and it sucks. I'm going to sleep now,

Happy Birthday to Me! Jun. 16th, 2013 @ 05:48 pm
YAY! It's my BIRTHDAY! And I get to spend it SOBER for the first time in many years! Also ALONE, since my ex-wife decided to be so kind as to fuck every guy that would let her and try her damndedest to drive me insane throughout my 20s, thus making me a broken husk of a man who drove everyone who cared about him away throughout his 30s including a girl he really really loved and who now won't speak to him because he was such a fucking asshole! But it's been 3 months to the day that I have been sober, now, and it's my fucking birthday so I bought rainbow sherbert and I'm going to eat a fuckload of it and possibly puke my guts out until I go to sleep, hopefully avoiding the feeling of crushing soul-wracking emptiness and loneliness that is only appropriate for a livejournal post! Oh fuck, there it is, cruising at the edges of my mind again, sniffing around for a way in. That depressive madness which I can only cure by getting manic, fucking, getting a hug or otherwise not feeling like a useless prick who shit on everybody he ever cared about. YES! That's the way in Depression! Right through that door! HOORAY! Now I'm going to go have a smoke. Maybe a walk. Fuck you, world.
Other entries
» My epiphany
Realizing that people don't think logically or rationally is an ongoing shock to me, the implications are HUGE. It sort of turns my whole life upside down, and explains so much of what never made sense to me in the past. Infidelity, random violence, all acts of madness which I have witnessed make SO MUCH MORE SENSE when I realize that the people doing them were not what I can classify as truly conscious human beings aware of actions and consequences in a real sense. How can irrational creatures even HAVE a morality beyond "that which is told them" which really isn't so much a morality as it is "me no put penis in electric socket because it sting me!"
I guess this is arrogance or something, but I'm just baffled and, more than anything, I have a new awe and fear of people around me. Here's an excerpt from a chat I had with an old friend regarding my ex wife which I think makes some of my recent realizations a bit more clear.

Me: I am just now starting to realize that some people don't think logically, and it's a frightening thought to realize that I was married to a woman who essentially is, in my opinion, not a conscious human being. Having recovered from addiction by myself is a huge eye opener, and I am very sad to see now that my addiction prevented me from seeing this basic human weakness which I do not possess: the inability to objectively process information. That said, how can I even be certain that Gulie ever loved me in the way that I loved her since, as far as I can tell, she cannot grasp reality? Very unsettling stuff.
Although realizing that people are NOT logical or even CAPABLE of being honest is really helpful to me as it explains many of the things which I have seen that I have never been able to understand, like Gulie's infidelity just NEVER MADE SENSE to me. Now that I can see that she perhaps was not logical, lying may have seemed like a morally acceptable choice to her, so in her eyes it wasn't wrong at all. The implications are REALLY unsettling, actually. I definitely feel like an alien now.
» Bah!
Fucking stupid alcoholism. What a shitty thing my ex wife left me with. Well, not just her, there was all my childhood trauma/drama all that fucking bullshit leading up to the miserable abusive relationship followed by the bitter sad divorce (yes yes I still love her yada yada fuck my subconscious mind.)
And now here I am. Magically cured by the Power of Prayer! Oh wait scratch that, I actually thought I was a fucking Hindu WHILE I was an alcoholic thank you very much, and all these fucking holier-than-thou fuckwits who I'm supposed to pay lip service to because I'm "just a poor weak sinner like them" can KISS MY ASS. Because you know what? I was fucking ABUSED. My whole fucking life, starting when I was a goddamned infant. And NO, it wasn't my fucking fault. What WAS my fault was being such a goddamn pussy that I tried to off myself with slow poison for 20 fucking years. So FUCK God, FUCK AA, FUCK all the hypocritical MOTHERFUCKERS who "just wanted me to heal" and AREN'T HERE TODAY, because they can all go to fucking hell and suck my glorious punk rock dick. Because I FUCKING QUIT DRINKING. I FUCKING GOT OVER MY SHIT, BY MYSELF, WITHOUT ANY FUCKING HELP. Big Boys Don't Cry, fuckheads. People tried to help me sure, but I didn't accept that help. The only fucking HELP I could fucking accept was the same fucking HELP that made me drink in the goddamned first place: GETTING FUCKING ABUSED BY ASSHOLES MORE POWERFUL THAN ME. Getting thrown in jail and fucking realizing that I had two choices: Keep drinking so I could get some nice fat gang rape up my ass with a nice slice of murderotica thrown in to cap it all off at the end, posssibly some disease, maybe some fucking children, oh hell I could drag my family into it with me etc etc etc all the fucking looping intestines of STRANGLING HISTORY OF FUCKING ABUSE THANKS GRANDMA YOU FUCKING EVIL BITCH AND WHOEVER FUCKED YOU OVER BEFORE THAT!
Or I could do the hard thing. Grow. The. Fuck. Up.
So I did.
But seriously, about that ass kissing and sucking of the aforementioned punk rock prong? I don't really give a shit about any of that because I'm not that much of a dick after all, and that's kind of the point.
So yup, I'm pretty not pissed off about anything anymore, not all weepy eyed and shit. I mean, it's nice to get me going in the morning and shit but at the end of the day I'm a pretty cool, confident motherfucker. Oh snap.
Honor, hypocrisy, flexibility, consistency of one's worldview. Things I think about late at night when I've got insomnia and I'm feeling hurt. I trust people at their word, even when it's something ridiculous like "I'll be your friend forever", because I actually stick by my word in the long run. Sure I may go bonkers every few years and have a nervous breakdown or become majorly addicted to a substance or whatever, but in the end I have ALWAYS come around and I always will. That's why it bugs me so much that some people aren't that flexible or whatever, especially people I deeply trusted. Trust is such a huge issue with me I don't even know which end is up anymore, so I sort of decided to say "heck with it" and focus my mental energies on progress. I worry that I might be sort of abandoning my humanity, but it seems like it's either that or keep spiralling down the rabbit hole of self-annihilation as my faith gets chipped and eroded at every turn. Thanks for that. I hope the people who have contributed to my learning what a terrible judge of character I am read this. I know it's ridiculously demanding of me to expect people to keep promises they made in emotional states 15 or 20 years ago, but I do, so why should I give them a pass if I'm so fucking hard on myself? I shouldn't, that's the answer, but there's the catch: Part of my belief system is that anybody can change for the better OR worse and I should allow for that to happen. After all, who am I to judge?
» Time on my hands...
Thinking about all kinds of stuff, doing all kinds of work around the house, doing all kinds of errands. Basically living the dream mang. I'm like, attractive, healthy, honest, emotionally stable and completely at peace with who I am as a human being. Like, WTF! It's amazing how I think back on all the people who have left my life in the last few years and there's like, no bitterness or anger in me over that, I'd accept all of them back with open arms and a new sort of fresh face on who I am. I really think they'd like me, and I only wish I'd allowed myself to BE me before. In a pretty great mood, looking forward is much better than dwelling on the past.
» Satori
Probably going to start posting here more often again, kindof like that I can't find any of my old emo posts/info from before I became a massive alkie and stopped being able to handle the trauma I had been put through since the age of 12 or so. You know how in dikuMUDs you could break the game by topping a spec out over 255 and wrapping it around? Well I sort of think of that as enlightenment, and I think my insanity/drugginess finally did that. I'm much calmer now, a much faster thinker, colors look brighter and I can barely remember my trauma. I mean, I remember it clearly but it seems so emotionally distant that it might as well be a boring movie I'm half paying attention to. The sort of sad thing is that, as these changes are overcoming my psyche, people who aren't here either talking to me via internet or phone or whatever or actually physically here in my life well, they're fading in my memory to basically 2 dimensional clinical cutouts of people, like my memory of Britt became 10 years or so after she died. It's really sort of heartbreaking to be that cut off from people who I look at their old posts on my LJ and think "Gosh, I used to feel a close emotional bond with that person." It's amazing what depth of feeling my madness ignored and passed up, but I'm fully present in life NOW and I sort of feel like taking the time to go back and revisit those relationships isn't worth it. That's not to say I'm not open to it, but several (read many) people have completely excised the demonic Eric from their lives and despite me saying "hey guys, I'm better now" they want nothing to do with me. It will be very sad when I run into them a year from now or whatever and it dawns on them that I'm not bullshitting this time. Yay for Livejournal: where nobody reads your posts!
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