pandemonium

I get like this sometimes. I had purposely set up my last entry as more of a concept piece than an actual entry. It began with the Nine Inch Nails song Eraser (Polite) which is a much gentler version of Eraser, thus more appropriate for my usual relationships. The venom is no less deadly though.

Afterwards comes that feeling of extreme remorse and self-pity and occasional lapse into self-hatred, where all you want is that person "one last time" and then you can surrender yourself into the abyss.

Then you try and rationalize in a pathetic attempt to dissect and analyze emotion, which is inherently an irrational concept. It is the same life whether we spend it laughing or crying, but of what use is that to us when we're crawling? It's so easy to agree with and understand after the fact, but such truths are as scornful as sunlight during the worst of it.

And then finally comes the pathetic attempt at reconsiliation, where you lash out not at your own and other intrinsic faults but rather at the emotion itself, either by telling yourself it's no good for you and it's all a lie or that it's really a horrible deception purpetrated upon us by others in order to let down our defenses.

Even out of relationships I've found myself falling victim to this several times.
I should probably now apologize to anyone who may have gotten the wrong impression from yesterday's post: I did not just lose a loved one. Rather, I have been fueling my own paranoias regarding this most cherished of emotions for the past few weeks. I haven't been in love in almost three years, I haven't even dated in almost a year and a half. My desire for one is about as strong as my hatred for my desire for it. I don't like feeling that dependant on something.

But I still wonder if I'll ever be good at relationships. I have never had any evidence that I am. And if it's inhereted genetically, then I'm even more screwed than I previously might have feared.

This all started a few weeks ago when I realized that I couldn't remember what it felt like to be in love anymore. I could only remember what it was like to be heartbroken. The sick part was that I actually starting romanticizing the feeling of heartbreak just because at least then I knew I felt *something.* It's fucked up, I know.

Relationships suck and I suck for wanting one. I hope I die alone.

Actually, no... I want to be mummified and buried next to Stalin.

~ Rob

P.S. I've decided that I want to grow a Stalin mustache. I'll keep people updated, but this could take years at the rate my facial hair grows.