Off the edge I go - again...

Once again, I find myself where I have been so many times before - sliding of the edge of happiness and contentment into the pit of depression. It starts out subtly, and spirals into full blown despair, wishing to die, and the hopelessness of being single, again - permanently it seems.

Oh, I have been to therapy; I have worked hard to "accept" being single, to embrace and enjoy it; I have tried to tell myself what a "great guy and great catch" I am; to reassure myself that there is nothing wrong with me, it just isn't meant to be right now. But still, it's hard to deny the seemingly unavoidable, and inescapable pattern that exists in my life : if I like a woman, she inevitably does not like me. If a woman likes me, I inevitably do not like her. If I like her, and she actually likes me too, I find a way to fuck it up like I did with Michelle. It seems as though it is a foregone conclusion that I will have no mate now, not tomorrow, not next week, month, year - ever.

Now I look at what I just said, and realize that practicing rational thought analysis, it is irrational to say "never". But it sure feels like that sometimes. And I say feel, because it is not the thought that troubles me as much as it is the feeling - that nagging, hollow, ugly feeling that there is something wrong with me; that I will always be without a partner; that even if one does come into my life, I will screw it up.

It's hard to feel any kind of real happiness when this is the reality of my life that I see today. It's hard to believe that this feeling will ever go away for good. All the therapy, all the medications, meditations, exercise, eating right - nothing can seem to stop it from returning. Because in the end, I am what I am : still the ugly little geek, grasping for gold coins that are, and have always been, and will always be out of his reach. He isn't satisfied with the silver and brass coins that life offers - he wants the gold ones. But the gold ones are too good for him - too shiny and pretty. He knows it, but he can't make that want, that desire go away. And so it eats him up inside, taunting him, tortuing him, hurting him - making him hate himself.

God damn those gold coins anyway, and God damn the ugly little geek he is anyway. He wants to be someone else. He wants to be somewhere else. He wants to be no one, nowhere, not alive, not existing, not caring. He wants out. He doesn't want to play anymore.