Otherwise Maladroit

16 June 2002

Why do I hate myself so much? I can't get it out of my head that I'm boring and has a lifestyle that is as exciting as a doornail. I just feel so undesirable - not that I'm actively looking for a relationship, what I mean is that I don't see myself in a position that would make me intrinsically happy - something which I consider is the well of self-confidence, a characteristic that makes a person desirable. My being is sacrificed to the pursuit of buying my freedom. Outside looking in, you'd probably say that my life is looking pretty good right now, and that I'm an ungrateful spoiled rotten whiner. A job without pressure that pays what you'd expect; an incredibly supportive boss; free lodging, food, and use of transportation; in other words, a relatively hassle free existence with some extra comforts. Still, I seek escapist entertainment. I have no idea how many fan fiction I've read to get some time being somewhere else, at least in with my mind. I'm reading more of escapist literature than I would consider healthy for my mental well-being and to my academic work. I often catch myself thinking, "If only I could get a steady supplier of my smutty vices I'd get some modicum of happiness."

And it truly scares me when I get a moment to stop and think about my anti-social tendencies that I seem to be building a profile awfully similar to the classic disturbed middle class white male serial killer. I damn myself for getting addicted to porn in high school. I find it difficult to shake off the habit when I find little else to do but to entertain myself - which usually means getting online and meandering around the web. Ever since I got onto it - well, maybe even before that, it would be more accurate to pinpoint the moment I got into computers - I've somewhat lost interest in reading, unless it's the kind of material that has that "extra zing".

The times I relapse to smut are like barometer readings of how I feel about myself. I use porn to disengage myself from an unexplainably unhappy reality. I've admitted once to a friend that I couldn't sleep without playing an erotic scene in my thoughts to help me relax. I've found it helpful to muster a wet dream to keep myself from remembering bad dreams, and also to ward off an anxiety attack. Lately I've been moody, and I've had it enough to know that it usually preludes to an argument with my mother. I better check my emotions when we talk or I'll over-react to some little issue that I could have allowed to fly by if I'd been in a lighter mood.

posted by Otherwise Maladroit @ 4:43 PM