Will I ever be happy?

It's like as soon as I get something done I twist it around on myself.

Working has been alright, I feel like shit even after eight hours of sleep though, which is frustrating. The work itself is a little monotonous, it's slightly physically demanding and on the weekdays is pretty chaotic, so I feel like I'm doing something at least. The days all drag though, it feels like eight hours stretches out to twelve or something. When I get home it's honestly so depressing though; I make food and drink for the next day, eat, do my laundry, shower, and by the time it's all over, I've only got a short period until bed and the next day. My day drags and drags and by the time I'm ready for any sort of me time it's lying in bed, reading.

Reading lately had given me a totally different view on 'alpha' male though. Reading about the Soviets and how Stalin got away with what he did shows me a different side of power, something that brute strength or the ability to out drink someone could never do. Deception, cunning, intellectual pacification, manipulation, all things that an empire of monumental strength and cruelty was born from. It makes me stride towards my intellectual side again, instead of just drowning it in booze.

I'm curious to what I might be classified as if such a revolution came about. Intellectual? Writer? Anarchist? Or just another peasant, do I flatter myself with the terms I thought of before?

I don't really know. I'm not really sure if I care.

My time alone has been satisfying lately, it seems like I can count on people less and less.

With all my friends turning to drugs now it's summer I feel very alone. I don't participate, I watch the pipe and cigarellos pass from lip to lip, I take someone home because they say they're tired only to find out they just wanted to get high without me. Sometimes I drink when a party is afoot and watch drunkenly, swaying back and forth trying to comprehend why people do it but realizing I'm no better by just drinking alcohol, other times I sit back and just watch, making excuses to leave early. It's so odd that everyone, literally, everyone does it now. Friends I've known since birth, ex-straight edge teenagers, or just even the girls I thought had a higher sense of values or were 'good girls.' Nothing or nobody seems to stay pure or even trustworthy.

My friends all disappoint me. I'm a target for my weight frequently even though they know full well it's a sensitive subject. Now that I work full time they can't be bothered to change plans at all even though they don't work any days of the week, they just keep throwing their own things and ridicule me for not wanting to come out late when I have to work the next day.

I don't feel at all suited for this role I so crave, I feel like a boy trapped in the Colosseum and instructed to die. I'm bigger, stronger, but I don't feel at all fulfilled by any of it. My aggression has died and I'm again passive until poked, which gives the impression I'm much more moody then I am. I'm just generally unhappy all the time, so I hide it with alcohol or an attitude I can't keep up. People cry out in so many different ways it's impossible to tell who really needs help or just needs sunshine shot vertically into their asshole. I'd say I'm borderline, I overthink everything now. Work, women, bills, people. I wonder if they even know what I think of most of them?

I want to take a kickboxing or boxing class, I want to know how to legitimately fight. I almost just want to take a few people in my backyard and pummel them, just to get all of these pent up emotions out and to show I'm not a fucking joke. I want to grow my hair back out for my old personally I loathe so much, want my eyebrow re pierced, want my arm to be covered in tattoo's.

I want to go back to the old me, even though I know it fucked me up so badly in the past. I want to go forward and become someone totally new, but I don't know where to start or what I would even do.

Another week drags by and things stay virtually the same. Alcohol, work, restless nights haunted by Evelyn or nightmares of failure.

A workout was a much needed release, working full time prevented me from getting much done physically asides work itself, so when I finally got to the gym it felt so good, so right. My addiction has grown, several days and I feel bloated, all time low self-esteem. But when I'm out everything sorts out, I feel great again. I need to work in times for when I can bench after work and then be sure to hit the gym hard on my days off. How I'll manage is up in the air, but it needs to be done. I may weigh more then I ever have but I still look damn fine, I've never been stronger or more confident in my drinking shirt.

I wish I had the money to just fly away right now, alone. I'd go to Russia, of course, and whether or not I came back is questionable. The thought takes root more and more every day. I've got the website for a self-course on Russian that I could potentially earn a degree over the Internet, I'm not sure if I have the time or drive to learn a new language at this point.

It took me so long to write this, my wrist hurts. I've lost touch with the writer in myself.

I'm looking forward to Blink 182's mosh so I can just rage on anyone close enough to me. Dick move, right?