Blues run the game

I write some more. I am starting to feel very low, and I am getting worried about the future again. Although, I penned some more of the writing which I started in April last year. The story of everything that's happened to me.

aI feel massively pretentious sometimes when I write. Like what I have to say is meaningless. A pointless allegory, which no one besides me would want to read. A mystery with no story. If that is true though, perhaps the writing itself still provides a helpful form of therapy. A sort of open way of purging my sins.

I am beginning to realise that I still have unhealthy expectations of myself. Of my fitness levels, my eating habits, my work, my ambitions. I feel like I am working towards things, seeing life in a future context all of the time. I feel guilty and anxious, devoid of meaning in my life right now.

I wonder if I should tell R. But it just feels wrong to put my concerns on her. She struggles with confidence herself, and I don't want to worry her. So, I don't.

I long to have some social contact, to see some friends, have some fun. But I don't feel like I can reach out to anyone. I feel alienated again, detached. I wonder how I put myself in this situation again. I feel desperately lonely, but unable to find anyone I trust to be a close friend anymore. I push everyone away, or they drift away. I don't know which.

I feel like years could melt one into the other, with nothing but working, eating, sleeping and exercising being my life. I am a slave to pointless ambitions, to social convention, to what I feel I ought, I should, I must be doing. I don't know if this is what I want, or not. What I love, or loathe. I curse the world, the superficiality I hate, the people in this city.

I feel like I want to move, but wonder if I would be any happier anywhere else. It brings an old song to mind. Blues run the game.

I want R to be here, to find a job, and live with me down here. But I wonder if I just want to companionship. I think maybe that is more important than anything right now. That I have her companionship, that I feel wanted and trusted and loved. And I begin to realise that I love her in a different way than anyone before. But it scares me. There are things that might not work, and all I can do to her is promise that it will all be ok. But will it be ok? Am I kidding her and myself? Is this really right? All I can think of is how much I would miss her if she wasn't around. So I know I want her always to be around. I trust her. More than I have ever trusted a girl. I don't know how it has come around so quickly, but she is more honourable, caring, trustworthy and reliable than anyone else. I wish it felt like enough.

I seem to crave excitement, danger. I seem to want to make things dangerous, if my life is too quiet. I think of passionate affairs. Sex, rock and roll, political activism, starting a business, becoming someone special. I seem to crave this attention from somewhere. I don't know why I can't just be happy with what I have. But I'm impatient, restless, and looking for something to teach me, something to give me meaning. I hope I can find it.

Try Not to Bite

I haven't written for months. I've left out months of a relationship with a new girl, progress on OU courses, and my improved relationship with working life. It all comes down to a certain American girl contacting me again though. It made me think of writing. I sometimes get the feeling that I am being manipulated. It's like temptation, tempestuous, conflicting emotions and happy mixed with painful memories. When an ex starts telling you that you were the best sex she ever had, and that she'd love you to join a threesome with her and another girl, (if she was ever in England), I feel like perhaps I'm being played a little. If anyone can do it, wants to feel wanted, and has that hold over me, it's her. I guess I just try not to be too taken in by it.

I hear that huge sex drive is a big symptom of bi-polar disorder, as is the ability to lie compulsively, and so on. I think I should be more cautious than I have been in the past.