A full entry? What the fuck!

I at least owe myself a full explanation and a breakdown of recent events.

So that Dogfucking, shit-eating, fatass piece of going bald grey teeth mother FUCKING Sean is getting fired! I know! I'm excited too! Piece of shit, the whole "Let's harass the shipper WHENEVER I'm doing sweet fuck all and trying not to look like a total moron, which as a side note, IS ALL THE FUCKING TIME, game." got old. Reaalll quiick.

So how did I do it? Yes ladies and gentlemen, I will proclaim to have gotten this fucker fired; because let's be honest: I did!

It all started when he fucking shows up late EVERY weekend leaving me to open everything and be harassed by all the old pricks that come into the store. Whether it be sleeping in, or claiming his new meds are fucking him up, (Which, by the how, WHAT THE FUCK? How goddamn crazy are you?!) he always had a really, really sorry excuse. It pissed me off because he was always trying to swindle me into keeping his faggoty secret that he couldn't make it to work on time, even though he lives the closest out of any employee. It's within walking distance for fucks sakes.

Next it would be that game. A constant barrage of "What're you doing?" But not like a question, more like a demand. He's new, so am I, so at first I thought he might be trying to learn. Fair enough right?

No! That fucker is questioning me, making sure I'm working while he goes off and fucks the living shit out of the dog. Sitting, smoking whenever he can, looking around and smacking his cocksuckers lips as if he's got a fat pair of nuts to gargle between them. This fucker is making sure I'm working? Go die! I would Love to see his daily routine played through in fast motion, it would be a montage of sitting behind the counter and sneaking out behind the trailers for a fag.

This constant questioning prompted none too kind responses from me, and from there, a Lovely hatred was born. I tried to help, I tried to give him stuff to do, (Because believe me, at a clusterfuck Marine Store switching computer systems, there is a buttload to do.) or even just to leave me alone. But nooo, after sitting around to his hearts content, he would come and pester me asking me why I was organizing my shipping desk. Why I felt the need to put away the rope. Why I was selling something to a customer. Asking me a question, and then right in front of an old prick, laughing at my answer and saying I'm wrong.

Do you know how hard it is to earn the older generations respect when you're nineteen? Especially when half of them don't speak English and have already rammed their twelve foot rotten wooden boat into the rocks and need a new piece of everything yesterday? Hard enough, I don't need that fucker undermining me at every turn, it's a struggle I'm losing thanks to my ever shortening temper.

Anyhow. You get the point. He's a fucking loser.

I started by saying this faggot was always late, which was no lie in my defence. He even missed a full day of work and called in the next morning saying he was going to be late, and because we're so short staffed and cheap, we let him get away with! I then said I thought he was kind of a loonie, which he played right into my hand by calling and saying he's started to take medication for anxiety after his mothers death. It might explain why he's been such a prick, but I almost have to surmise he's always been a fucker.

I then proceeded to spread a few rumors in the underbelly of the staff which would eventually work it's way up to the man about his inadequacies, medications, and squeal on every little thing he did wrong. Wrong? Probably. Did he deserve it? Probably. Does anyone there like him anyways? No!

Just fanning the flames, speeding things up a little, you know? I don't even need to justify myself, I feel fine about it. I'll be sleeping fine when I still have a job in an economy where twenty percent of all British Colombians are unemployed. Boo fucking hoo.

Kev' told me he's gone Tuesday, and I have to work with him Sunday and Monday. It's going to be so hard to keep quiet, but oh man, so satisfying to watch him leave the door.

Fuck that felt gooodd. I'm still SO sore from boxing, what a fucking workout man! Today looks like a chill day, I was supposed to go camping and get trashed, but the weather looks hairier then my ass. Unlikely, but fear not! There's always another party afoot! I guess.

Drinking is one of the few things I look forward to in the week. (Here's a short list; Working out, boxing now, time alone with my book, time with Corey, drinking. Whee.) I've almost had to make it something to look forward to, it seems that if I don't I almost spiral a little bit. Alcoholism? Shit.

Bah, I don't even care. It keeps me sane and maybe one of my only dependants. Not even, I could go without, but at this point, I don't even care. I'm all for keeping myself healthy, but I enjoy my booze a little too much.

I'm just digging a big hole for myself here, so I'll stop. At least I'm aware of it. At least.

Breakfast time! At noon! I Love my weekends!

All good days...

...Mean one hell of a sore day the next.

I went and tried my 'hand' at boxing last night and had a blast, I enjoyed it to the point of buying a four month membership. How tired and sore I am is unbelievable though, from the top of my shoulders down to my ankles. Arms, chest, abs, everything hurts. Damn fine pain though, I haven't had that intense or fulfilling workout in months.

I'm at work, as always, so as much as I'd like to talk about developments with that fuckup and eternal buttplug, I can't. He's right beside me. Maybe next entry? Tons of fun stuff with that loser.

Bah. Boss is back, I better go. Hopefully I'll get a chance to write some more soon, I'm actually enjoying writing again.

I think I'm actually just starting to accept this whole loneliness thing and beginning to digest and move on.

It's tough to say, I'm still not being social enough or meeting nearly enough people, but at least I'm not so mopey or depressed before I fall asleep. The stuff I got for my thyroid actually helped out a little, so I've been perkier lately. However, work continues to drag be down; whether it be grumpy-faggoty old men bitching at me for not having their stuff (Which it's Dan's fucking fault, he refuses to order because next door won't approve his older orders. Fucker.) or my retarded counterparts. I've almost gotten into fistfights with men nearly twice my age on a couple of occasions, and if Sean continues to have attitude with me or Dan has another little girl temper tantrum and tells me to fuck off one more time? Fuuuuckk.

I've been ridiculously scrappy lately. Anytime someone disrespects me in the slightest ( Asides customers, apparently screaming is a common way to communicate in this business) I'm up in their face right away, either countering them or insulting them back. No insult is left alone, no off hand slight about my personality or attitude ignored. I've been pushed around my whole life, mostly because of my build or slightly submissive nature, but now that I've got the figure and am good and fucking tired of being pushed, that's all over. I'm simply not allowing it, not backing down, and if someone pisses me off, they'll hear about it. Quick.

And on that note, that cunt Sean is going to get fired. Whether it be me squealing on him for being late almost every time me and him have to open (5-10 minutes, whatever; excusable. An hour every weekend and once a weekday? Fuck that!) or him claiming to know the job better? Go die buddy. Seriously, don't fuck with me. I'll get you fired or beat you down.

Yawn. Back to work I guess. What a stupid day.

How do you present yourself in a normal, healthy way these days?

Alot of the habits I keep are healthy, yet alot more are not. I've had a rough and confusing past, mingled in with mistakes and scars that don't easily fade. I'm still pretty fucked up and not 100%, and it's hard to say when that will happen.

I think that's my biggest chink in my armor, I don't know when I'll just be able to laugh off all of the major insecurities and fears I have left over from Evelyn and the solid wall of a nightmare that followed. What I really need is a confidence booster, something to get my ego and swagger back in full, not just some stupid facade.

Fuck, I really need to get out and have something I could even jokingly call a social life. Asides the group (Which still won't hang out unless we're drinking. >:/) and the usual boytoys, I'm alone all the time. It's been so long since I've even flirted properly with a girl, and I was so young and naive back then. How do adults flirt? Do I act mature or lighthearted and funny?

I really need to take some time to figure my own dumb self out.

This bitter loneliness.

At the party last night I sat out in the deep end of the pool, my buzz dying in my throat as I watched four couples hooking up in front of me. I don't know what it was, I don't know why I cared, but it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to watch.

The nicest thing about the group was there was never any sexual tension. Guys and 'gals just having a good time, putting the week of misery and pointlessness to the torch and just destroying it with the bottle. There was no need to judge, no need to point fingers at anyone calling them stupid petty names, because we were all there for the same reason. We all knew it, we all accepted it, and moved on from the fact. As well, we would have a damn good time doing whatever the fuck we wanted. Laughing, drinking games, making fun, saying stupid things over and over simply because the words brought tears to our eyes.

But now it just seems like the integrity is gone. Everyone just decided to hook up, major make out sessions right in the pool. The long time couples I don't care about, but the few single girls just going to town on the guy in front of them just seemed so out of place. I always imagined that if it did happen, it would be with me. Sure, there was never any tension, but I'd be a liar if I didn't say there was attractions and a hint of chemistry there.

I don't even feel like a friend, just some goddamn clown to show up and make people laugh for awhile while I get drunk and they have a good time watching me do it. Sure, I'm the life of the party, people flock around, but at what cost to my character? I can't hang with them to save my life, they never even want to see me unless I've got a ridiculous outfit on and a bottle pushed to my lips. I've tried, but it's obvious they're blowing me off and I've almost given up hope.

So here I sit again. Alone and desperate to change it, but no closer or happier to achieving anything. It feels so goddamn pathetic, I feel like an empty shell of a person that I'm no longer sure exists.

The worst part of being the way I am is I can see it. I'm not about to deny much, or even looking for some big overwhelming sense of understanding/pity. I'm just looking to find my own way through the rough, but I'm so deep now it's like I'm in an endless maze.

Being desperate is just stupid as well. Instead of having something close to a pair of balls I just have this massive fleshy patch there, pulsing and red from being abused so much. Instead of being slick or trying to pull off something cool, you go for the desperation mode pickups or say something retarded that gives away your real position. What fucking girl wants that? Some loser who always seems to be one big trainwreck with massive insecurities? Mother Teresa would probably smack me in the mouth and call me a pussy; I can't imagine anyone just wanting to comfort me back to strength and wanting to stick with me through it all.

I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm glad I'm out of the pool and hungover now. I feel better just admitting all these stupid things, it's refreshing to admit your weaknesses, even if it is online to the worldwide web.

I'm going to go have a really good day.

We are the clowns only here to entertain.

Tossing and Turning.

All last night my body wretched itself across the bed, convulsing and snorting myself into a half-consciousness. I awoke at five thirty, my eyes bulging and nonreactive to the short time I had to sleep in the night. I dreamt, as always, but much more vividly then normal. I saw a familiar face, a face who's name dwells in the back of my subconsciousness. I can't recall the name, but the face, the face kept me awake all morning. I've only seen her twice, but for whatever reason the second time I saw her I can't get the image out of my skull.

I know where she works, I know the job she does because I've done it, I know I'm attracted to her, but nothing else. I can't tell if this is just another stupid boyish crush or potentially something more yet, I haven't even really spoke to her; and to be frank, I'm not sure I have the balls to do it. I want to, I want to more than anything right now. I'm so goddamn sick of being alone, I want to meet someone so badly it hurts in the bottom of my chest. I just don't know how I'd do it?

Do I phone her workplace, asking about her and when she might work? I know people talk and she'd probably be informed some creep was asking about her, so when I showed and tried to present myself I'd come off more of a stalker or some sort of major loser than anything else. I've got a plan to get in the theatre, acting like a projectionist from another theatre there to repair a piece of equipment. I'd ask her to escort me, first getting the name of the projectionist and manager so I could name drop so the story would seem legitimate. Then, once I had a brief moment of solitude with her, confess my real intentions and ask her to dinner. Of course, this would expose me to the rest of the staff and presumably, her friends, so if this backfired she would have a whole crew to shut me down in front of, which would just be a disaster.

Do I slip her a "gift certificate" with a confessional on it, simply stating how I'd be interested in seeing more of her? Do I phone and ask until I get her and then ask her to meet me somewhere?
Do I spy on her and find out when she's off and then "accidentally" run into her?

Everything I think of just sounds so creepy.

And once again, I question my own confidence to do any of the things I've thought of.

All I know is I'll have trouble sleeping until I try something. I know I'll have more trouble if I get shot down, but I always have to wonder.

Where the fuck has my backbone gone?

And I'm afraid, to sleep because of what haunts me. Such as, living with the uncertainty that I'll never find the words to say which would completely explain;
Just how I'm breaking down.

Icarus.

Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings out of wax and feathers for himself and his son. Before they took off from the island, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, nor too close to the sea. Overcome by the giddiness that flying lent him, Icarus soared through the sky curiously, but in the process he came too close to the sun, which melted the wax. Icarus kept flapping his wings but soon realized that he had no feathers left and that he was only flapping his bare arms. And so, Icarus fell into the sea in the area which bears his name, the Icarian Sea near Icaria, an island southwest of Samos.

A man, standing tall and proud, stretching his arms out to the heavens. He is lean, not a shred of fat on his body, his muscles thin but taunt with checked control. His legs are crossed, his genitals hidden beneath a thin fold of green linen. He is faceless, his face turned skyward and a mask of indifference hides any sort of facial features; all that can be seen is a firm and solid jaw, a perfectly sculpted head.

Strapped to both of his arms lie beautiful red and gold wings. The feathers of wax are intricate and thin, with hundreds of hours etched into each wing, each feather a masterpiece in its own. The man is in mid flight, his arms pushed to the ends of his own limits as the wind soars and whistles through them, the wings catching the breeze and propelling him towards freedom and the bright light of the sun.

On his chest, a tiny tattoo of his own. A little sun with sunglasses, smiling.

Naked and raw ambition, yet a reminder not to go too far. Always fly high, yet be careful and realistic with your dreams.

But where to get this vision on my body? I'm considering getting it drawn up somewhere.