My mother said to me: If you want to stop smelling like smoke, just stop smoking. It's not that easy I told her. She did not understand. At this point I realized I wasn't really talking about smoking. I go off and on with tobacco and I don't have a huge problem with it. I was talking about..... I hate to say it I'm dependent on a great many things.
Last month I moved the TV to the living room. I told everyone including my therapist this was for better sleep. In reality I wanted to smoke while enjoying my favorite shows.... sue me, I can be honest with myself. I continue to travel down a long path with porn that I see no possible escape from. Some options, such as cutting myself off from sexual thought seem to take away my identity. Other, less radical options such as simply stopping watching videos seem like they may not be enough. Regardless, Something has to give. I hate looking at what I can't have. I wouldn't drool over pictures of cars I can't afford. I shouldn't, logically, drool over anything that will never be mine. I'm free musing here and I know I contradict myself. This is on purpose. On the other hand living out fantasies of what I cannot have does allow me the magic of the human mind to imagine that I do have them. Simple escapism is the oldest cure for depression. I mean during the great depression, the porn of the times was little orphan Annie being adopted by a millionaire Daddy Warbucks. We all need these sorts of comforts. Don't we? Without hope, who are we? *sigh* This could be valid argument, this could be rationalizing. I just don't know. Men do drool over pictures of cars they can never have, some going so far as to build a model of their dream car, despite it being far out of reach. I don't pity them or think less of them as a man. Everyone needs a hobby. What kind of hobby is looking at naked girls, smoking and watching endless british comedy. You'd just end up old, fat, alone, wondering why life passed you by. Complacency, most deadly thing on earth.
I saw Warm Bodies today. It brought up lots of old emotions, feeling dead inside, wondering why I'm still alive. One of the previews before the film was for a movie about a woman cheating on her husband. I got intensely angry at this, saying that anyone who would write such a film deserves to go to hell. I still mean it.
I don't know where I'm going anymore. I feel alone, and it doesn't feel right for that to feel ok. What future, what matters, we've got our bed and board? If you don't mind having to do without things, it's a fine life.
I like to laugh. I got a dinosaur pin that says Ohmehgerd, it's a dinaser. It makes me laugh. Laughter means the world to me. If I didn't laugh I'd cry. Stupid man. I got some new shirts, they're quite nice. I think video has to go, circling back around. I should fast from it for a month, see how that goes. Delete the archive and live on love. Done. No, I don't want to talk about it, I hate this shit already.
Last month I moved the TV to the living room. I told everyone including my therapist this was for better sleep. In reality I wanted to smoke while enjoying my favorite shows.... sue me, I can be honest with myself. I continue to travel down a long path with porn that I see no possible escape from. Some options, such as cutting myself off from sexual thought seem to take away my identity. Other, less radical options such as simply stopping watching videos seem like they may not be enough. Regardless, Something has to give. I hate looking at what I can't have. I wouldn't drool over pictures of cars I can't afford. I shouldn't, logically, drool over anything that will never be mine. I'm free musing here and I know I contradict myself. This is on purpose. On the other hand living out fantasies of what I cannot have does allow me the magic of the human mind to imagine that I do have them. Simple escapism is the oldest cure for depression. I mean during the great depression, the porn of the times was little orphan Annie being adopted by a millionaire Daddy Warbucks. We all need these sorts of comforts. Don't we? Without hope, who are we? *sigh* This could be valid argument, this could be rationalizing. I just don't know. Men do drool over pictures of cars they can never have, some going so far as to build a model of their dream car, despite it being far out of reach. I don't pity them or think less of them as a man. Everyone needs a hobby. What kind of hobby is looking at naked girls, smoking and watching endless british comedy. You'd just end up old, fat, alone, wondering why life passed you by. Complacency, most deadly thing on earth.
I saw Warm Bodies today. It brought up lots of old emotions, feeling dead inside, wondering why I'm still alive. One of the previews before the film was for a movie about a woman cheating on her husband. I got intensely angry at this, saying that anyone who would write such a film deserves to go to hell. I still mean it.
I don't know where I'm going anymore. I feel alone, and it doesn't feel right for that to feel ok. What future, what matters, we've got our bed and board? If you don't mind having to do without things, it's a fine life.
I like to laugh. I got a dinosaur pin that says Ohmehgerd, it's a dinaser. It makes me laugh. Laughter means the world to me. If I didn't laugh I'd cry. Stupid man. I got some new shirts, they're quite nice. I think video has to go, circling back around. I should fast from it for a month, see how that goes. Delete the archive and live on love. Done. No, I don't want to talk about it, I hate this shit already.
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