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?

This town.

I feel like this town I live in has walls and it's closing in on me.

I'm so goddamn lonely all the time and in serious trouble of being unable to commit to anyone as I watch my fears devour myself.

I make a decision and can almost time myself and watch the internal clock countdown until I doubt the choice I've made; nothing seems to stick.

I'm working a job potential right now but am so scared it'll work out and that I'll leave. I want and need everything to change right now but am terrified of just letting go.

I finally hit two-hundred on the scale. People keep saying it's muscle, but I don't see it.

I'm told nearly twice a day I'm overly pessimistic and my response hasn't changed in a long while. I just think I'm realistic, and I've yet to be proven wrong on many of my predictions and thoughts.

I feel myself teeter on the slope, my arms windmilling, rocking me back and forth.

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.

Inner Struggles.

The name of the latest obsession is control.

Lately I've found myself trying to wrap my head around my ever changing needs and desires and as of the last few days I find myself constantly spiralling in and out of my mind. I feel the need to grasp and take control of every little situation as it comes, whether it be driving or a passenger, financial needs, or even just ordering food at a restaurant. It's almost like I can't handle anything out of my area of control, if I can control it then I feel the need to do it. I can't stand being a passenger anymore, I feel the need to be in the seat of the car even if the person I'm with is one of the safest drivers around. I can't handle people inquiring about my bank statements, it gets me tense and upset quickly. I nearly snapped at a friend for ordering my food for me at Subway, I felt like he had no right or place to do so even though we were ordering nearly identical subs.

Why am I suddenly like this? Why is everything such a massive power struggle all of a sudden, its like everything I knew is just slipping through my fingers and I'm just standing around watching the chips as they fall, not resisting but not sure of what to do next.

I'm becoming much more aware of the size and strength of myself lately. I put on weight (Again!) and am now pushing one-ninety, but everyone that's close to me that I've asked says I still look one-eighty, in fact my mother who sees me every day says it looks like I've lost weight. Is this the fabled muscle growth and mass I've been craving for so many years, or just extra ponch that is yet to be unseen? I've been working outdoors a fair amount and landed a few extra lawn mowing gigs to keep my a little more active, my workout routines almost a constant now. It makes sense I'd be getting stronger, but my body works in very, very mysterious ways and likes to cheat me, so my hopes are staying low for the moment. In general though I have noticed the strength, the subtle changes in body language from the people around me when I'm near. I'm not used to it, I tower over so many people I very nearly cowered behind in High School, so I haven't learned to throw my weight around at all yet.

I'm so sick of all the criticism that surrounds me. I offhandedly mention that I like a certain kind of mayonnaise better then another and add that it also has less calories and fat than our regular and I get ridiculed. I constantly am besmirched about my alcohol consumption when in all truth everyone that surrounds me spends the exact same amount if not more. I only drink with a select group of friends and I usually split costs with people to save money, so the amount they see me drinking is the same as their own. I'm constantly under fire for my no eating after eight, meals ready around 7:50 are inconvenient for me so I'll eat when I need to to ensure I'm not eating after that time. Criticism about my weight, workouts, lack of this, too much that....

Honestly, I am trying here. I'm trying harder then I've ever tried to live a healthy lifestyle and all I get is a constant shit-storm of complaints and critiques. I'm not interfering with anyone elses life, I make sure of it. Why does it seem that whenever I take any sort of positive step I just get dragged back to my past or taken down a peg? I'm striving for my own happiness and what I want, leave it be.

I really want a companion for this journey to lend me a hand up.

"If we're never together, if I'm never back again, Well I Swear to God I'll Love You Forever."

Satisfaction rears its unfamiliar head.

Although it's Friday and I'm stuck home alone due to a serious of unfortunate events Against Me! (I Love that band?) I'm not unhappy about it.

Cinco De Mayo was a total blast even if all I did was basically get manhandled all night and shoot for a pickup line involving cat noises. I had so much fun and so many of my suspicions were confirmed: I can be the top dog now. I may not be the biggest or strongest, but that's unreasonable to think right now. I was dominating the dance floor all night and people flocked to be around and dancing.

The amount I thought I would enjoy my dirty little fantasies was a little subdued, however. I frequently think of how amazing that sort of thing would be and now that it happened I was a little unimpressed. The skanky girls were nice but wore off quickly, I didn't need that sort of thing to confirm my already developing thoughts of my looks. I'm only getting better and smarter now, so this was definitely just the beginning of my so called 'career.' I'm really not that excited about it anymore, but it's still has promise.

I feel shallow and petty about it all, but it's just the exultation of being in the limelight. I may as well bask in it, I've earned it.

Another point of thought though. Last night I was out and drinking again and had just as much as I did at Cinco. Alcohol has become a total mood enhancer, I don't even need a party anymore. I need a few people to flock and party around and I'm set, the stage is mine and I can act out as much as my little heart desires. This last month has been a blast for that, I've really developed my drinking 'skills' and tastes, if there is such a thing.

So I don't necessarily need to be surrounded by women to get my kicks as I may have thought earlier, which comes as a little bit of a surprise. Even the alcohol thing hasn't been as necessary as usual, which I think I can attribute to my work ethics.

I'm back on track with progress, my stomach is fading and my pecks coming in strongly (Except for like three shirts, in which my tits poke out and over like hella...) and yes, that is possible. The bar was an obvious boost, who doesn't like getting manhandled like that? Asides girls of course. And all those people who think that's just sick, but fuck y'all. I was on fire.

Although I've decided to wait awhile before I get any tattoos on my arms or chest in time to have them develop a little more I've come up with an idea I'm really stoked about for my left arm. It's more a less a sleeve, going down a little past my album and stopping on my forearm. Here's what I've come up with, if I could draw I'd post the idea I have, but since I can't I'll give it a shot at what I have in mind.

It would start at the very top of my shoulder, the very edge of the design creeping up and around my shoulder and thin lines edging to my shoulder blades. The top would be a human heart, but not just the simple design; like the actual human heart in detail. I don't need all the veins but it needs all the ventricles and major arteries out of it, the heart and arteries starting to wrap around my arm. However, instead of veins and arteries, clamp an iron band around the ends of them and add some very defined bolts. From here change the regular veins to pipelines running out and around my arm. In between each pipeline have a rising cityscape in the background with various types of flowers and greenery growing in front and around the pipes to add some colour to otherwise very black white and grey scenery. At the end of the pipes and landscape have the pipes connect on the front of my forearm and have them spilling waste into an ocean which wraps around the rest of my forearm and spills onto the back of my wrist.

On the heart have several metal casings surrounding it, adding a shade effect of black and red throughout the heart. Have several stitches and open sores on the heart with black blood leaking out. All the industrial backgrounds should have smoke pouring up and out with the smoke slowly changing colours to toxic purples and greens that continue to snake up my shoulder.

The symbolic meaning behind everything is pretty simple, really. I wear my heart on my sleeve and this is an obvious representation, the wounds and sores are past experiences of mine that are healing or still open. They could also be wounds in the future. The cityscape is a fascination of mine with human culture and the way we build and live, the pollution an open criticism of the way we live as people. The floral decorations would be for colour mostly but represent my Love of nature and all things beautiful in it. The sea would show my west coast side and Love of water, it would also leave it open for an addition of a boat or something on the water.

I'm really stoked on this, but it'll still be some time. I think it rounds out my character very nicely.

I'm excited about my next workout for the first time in awhile.

Cinco De Miyo; my night out.

It starts with a bottle of Jose Cuervo margarita mix, as I pound the bottle quickly I realize the whole thing will probably get me pretty buzzed and I'm right on. I finish the 750Ml bottle in under twenty minutes and head for the door.

I sing the whole way there, my head already swimming with alcohol. I can feel myself getting more and more pumped the closer we get, my adrenaline already beginning to get going and my heart rate rising. This is big for me, my first chance in awhile to get out there and flaunt my shit.

The people I'm with are dull, not wanting to dance to even get out and socialize much. After a beer and a shot I'm a constant on the dance floor; after the bands first set I've got a girl all over me and already jamming her tongue down my throat. After the second her friend has joined in as well and is grinding me heavily while the original 'gal takes my hands and places them wherever she wants them. I'm still tipsy.

The third set has me with four or five girls, all surrounding me with my beer raised to the bars roof. I'm making out, grinding, dancing, and all around having a grand time. I'm laughing whenever someone looks and gives me that questioning glance because I don't know how I've done it. People are starting to leave though, it's a little before one.

The band starts up again and I've lost my fan club, the original girl that started with me has moved across the floor and is dancing solo, still throwing enticing glances and hip movements towards me when she wants some attention. The others have left already, the floor consists of mostly guys. I'm still the centre of attention, whenever I'm in the bathroom guys are high fiving or commenting on the quality of what I've been up to. Others just mention work and are all around friendly, often referring to me as an equal even though I'm the youngest male in the bar by at least three years. Lots of bottle clinking and even slaps on the back, I feel like I'm in a sorority.

As we leave I stumble out, wasted. I'm losing my voice a little from all the singing and dancing, but I feel I could go all night. All the girls that were with me left without a word, not interested in anything more than a night of feeling me all over or a quick makeout session. I'm drunk and stumble around for awhile before our ride shows up.

The ride home is quiet, my head lulls between my shoulders and I don't speak. Words are exchanged throughout the car but I keep quiet. Drunken promises are made to call one another but I keep silent, my head bobbing stupidly to the beat of the music on the radio. Two of the three girls in the car whine about their night and bitch how the music sucked, I can only smile. I've established my dominance and feel on top of the world; everything I wanted to happen did and I couldn't of had much of a better night.

The person that I wanted in a live club situation came out perfectly after a few drinks and shots, I arrived and lived up to all my expectations, however shallow they were.

I'm still drunk writing this, but I was too excited and couldn't hold it in.

I can't wait for a few weeks down the road when my buds are nineteen as well, then the party really kicks off.

I'm picking up the pace again.

I've had some time these last few days between work and just having a lack of things to do and set myself up for a bit of crunch. A solid workout consisting of cardio and upper body for a little more then an hour every other day with a solid cardio blast on days off. It's not pushing myself hard put it's still breaking a sweat every day, which has kept my spirits through the roof. All the inspirational sayings I've tacked up around my room make sense again, put the spring back into my step. I'm much more feisty around everyone during the day but I'm tired come eleven, so I haven't been out much.

The problem of late is my appetite. I'm always hungry. Right after I eat, before, during, after I'm not supposed to, always. I've actually had to sit down because of hunger pains a couple of times around ten, the no no zone. I don't eat after eight, the body doesn't digest food properly and anything you eat will usually turn to fat and not burn as well as before. The body slows down after then as well, so it's been a fight.

The fact that my opinion of myself can change so quickly depending even on what shirt I'm wearing confirms all thoughts of instability. I just wonder what people see when I'm wearing the ones that make me look as good as I think I do.

Only a few more days 'til Cinco and the bar hopping begins.