Another wild weekend ends, the weekdays start, but who cares?

Two of my close friends turned nineteen and another girlfriend of ours turned as well, so there was a party afoot. After more then half a bottle of a sixty between the three of us, over twenty jello shooters for me along with an unknown amount of stolen beer it was a safe bet to say I was wasted. But for what? I out drank virtually everyone, even in every drinking competition I was putting down the heavy drinking rednecks. I even made one kid pass out after he insisted we keep doing the shooters.

My sex drive, however, for the first time in awhile has been virtually nonexistent. Sure, I'm competing all the time whenever I'm on the floor for the attention of all the women around, and I actually think I'm getting it. I'm not doing anything about it, I don't think it's anything close to raw amount of lust I had going a few weeks ago at the club, but it's there, and I'm controlling it. I don't really care anymore though.

In fact, all of the things I thought might actually be defining or satisfying, aren't. I'm not any happier at the end of the day (or in most cases the night) and even though I may go home pasted and in such a high I feel the world doesn't need to turn, I'm just hungover and dehydrated the next day, waiting for that high all over. Life doesn't seem to offer any joys lately, I feel the days drift by with alarming speed. Workouts happen on a regular basis and I'm still unsatisfied, people still only point out the flaws. I talk to old friends and acquaintances, but no-one seems to take any special interest in me. I haven't lived much of a spectacular or even exciting life, so I understand, but it still seems so odd they never want to chat.

When I was sixteen I would have never imagined myself like this. Unemployed again, single, a failed suicide under my belt, living at home, hopes and dreams all over the map and unfocused. I feel like every other person that I see in this town, and I hate every single one of those people. Am I one of them? Have I really just drifted into normality and become just like all the things I really hate? It's really kind of hypocritical and stupid, yet it's who I am.

It's not much of a life to live.

The fact that I'm just so unfulfilled is the worst. I've turned to things like becoming the Alpha Male, something I've never even dreamed of until I was nineteen, as a focal point for my frustrations and anxiety. My dreams are all on hold, my passions just a back burning flame while I try and sort out everything that's happened this last year. It's like I'm sitting just waiting for an opportunity I know isn't coming, I know nobody has any interest in a slow burning teenager who hasn't the faintest what he might really want to do with his life, but in my mind I just replay scenario after impossible scenario.

I keep thinking of what I really want to do if I were to go back to school, but every time I start to drift that way, I slide into this wall of finances. I have nothing to speak of, and this impossibly high standard of thinking that anything and everything I take is not worth nearly as much as it is. I want to start a business and just run with it, let it pick up speed and growth and then just sell it before it explodes out of my hands or fizzles out. I have so many ideas just rotting in my head, each one dying as I overplay the odds and scenarios to a crisp.

As much as I striving to be an Alpha, it's something I will never be. I'll always be lusting for the last little bit, the part where I swoon the girl with the pickup line I never have the courage or audacity to say. The parts where I'm everyones friend and nothing can touch me. I know the people who are, it's not going to be me.

The thing I want most is fulfillment. I want a good paying job where I'm taking in enough money to pay the rent, buy anything I want (Like that old cultural revolution poster at the antique store of Chairman Mao with a bunch of red books held high? Classic communist propaganda...Oh I waaannnttt....) and have someone that cares about me and really, truly understands how I feel. I don't really care about fame, what's going to happen to me in the future, or much else really. I just want the money to go somewhere and a soulmate to experience it with.

It would almost seem like this would make this all so trivial, yet as I am no closer to achieving these goals, it seems like this is something I could focus on. It keeps me eating healthy, working out and trying to keep in the best shape I can, as well as focusing my mind on something, however shallow and stupid it may be. It also gives me a reason to write, something else I find I'm doing less and less of.

So on with the show.