Depression

Depressions is seduction in reserve. Or at least for me I think. Why? Well, I've discovered that the more time I spend ind depression, isolation, or angst the more romantic my thought seem to be. Where heavy emotion meets romance is where seduction is breed.
I've been single for a little over a hear now with out any release in my emotional vibes. Never let the world see how you truly feel I was once told. They'll use that against you in the worst ways possible. Six years later here I am with little to no emotion expressed and a multitude of psychological identities. These identities alone are not me; but together is the definition of me.
I don't know if anybody else knows what it's like to be brought thinking that all you have is your self to depend on. To walk down the street and think to your self that with in a ten mile radius you are probably the only person that has the same types of ideas or thoughts. For example, I was was walking down the street the other day and I could not help but notice every person around me and how single minded they must be. It's kind of hard to explain my psychosis when I people watch in town; especially in Ala Moana. They are all part of the "mindless human herd" as Ayn Rand once wrote. Keep the center of the herd and be safe and pathetic. You are nothing without this herd but food for the predators. Stand alone and you are a beast of beasts to be gazed upon and awed.
To stick out and survive on your own is to condemn your self to lonely and isolated life of an outcast. People will point and talk about how you are different. The common self spoken response of "I'm different, but your a pathetic weakling that thrives on the attention of those more insignificant than you."
I don't know. Maybe this whole blog means nothing and I'm just angry because I haven't found anybody worth my time and effort to seduce and what not.

An age of pain

Ow. . . I thinking I'm getting to old for this shit. The weekly masochistic events that inevitably end in regret or disappointment. The play or the hunt for another to share in life. As someone once said; the human race in naturally self-destructive.
Ever got to that point in age where you just kind of told your self that your too old or mature to be doing this stuff? You ever told that voice to shut in the hell up because your too hardcore to give it all up now. Your constantly trying to live up to the sophomoric motto's of "Party like a Rockstar" and "If it's too loud you're too old". Everyone goes through their party animal phases. Of course you'd have to be as stupid as me to say that it's not a phase, you're the party. Yeah, the sober thoughts starting to hit after driving like a bat out of hell on the freeway last night and almost rear-ending a car in front of me because I was racing. No more Vodka and Redbull; I'll have to stick to the brewskies. There's nothing like that hair trigger feeling of wanting to vomit in your new car and the only thing keep you from doing so is knowing how much of a pain in the ass it's going to be try and scrape it out of the carpet. The question why do I continue down this masochistic path to self-destruction.
The drink is the symbol of fun times, happy living, and social echelon levels. The more alcoholic beverages you have the better everything is. If that was only the truth. The only truth in that is the orgasmic amnesia of what the real world is like with out the goggles. Nothing is more fun and socially promoting than being able to get smashed as shit and getting everyone around you to the same level. Every one loves the party boy. Only to stay a party boy you degrade your quality of living for social, emotional, physical, and occupation levels. Just be fun and not be the fun as it was once said. All this social anxiety and attempts at social acceptance just for something as small as a grain of sand on the beach.
The liquid courage as it's called. Have a drink and you're suave. Have a few more and you're sharp. Have a lot and you're Superman. Trying to maintain a consistency at any level is like trying to empty out water from a sinking boat with a table spoon. Where's the out path? Every plan has a back up plan in one form or another. Where's my out from this physically, mentally, socially, and occupationally tormenting life style? How does the party leave the party boy? It's easy when you have more to do and are socially accepted. But does the purple dragon amongst black sheep have an out? Or am I destined to be in this purgatory life of boozing and loneliness? Life with out the drink is easier than a life with out the acceptance. I know what I need to change. I only fear the fact that I need it or want it.