Soul-crushing happiness.

I’m writing this as my fiancee is away working out because if I were to write it while she were present I’d get 1000 questions about my happiness and all such related nonsense.

Growing up is almost universally tragic. I’m sure all of you can relate. Why do I say that? Let me explain. I recently got a job, classified in nature. Let’s just say I train monkeys. Because honestly? That’s what I do. People are going to draw conclusions based upon the “classified work with monkeys!?” To that I say, I love these little fucking creatures and everyone I work with does as well. They are well taken care of and extremely happy and long-lived. This is all irrelevant, however. That’s not what this blog is about (though perhaps it’s related?).

To get this job I had to move a ways away from my home. Where I grew up and where I went to school. I never felt more at home than in Baton Rouge, where I went to college. I was happy there but some of what I’m saying is obviously ‘golden-age syndrome.’ I could give less of a shit right now though. I feel the way I feel. I miss the levy most of all. Isn’t that fucking strange? I used to run along the levy from my house to downtown (about 6 miles one way) while I listed to an audio-book with my dog. I’d make my way downtown to the Shaw center and have my dog play in the fountains while I rested. I could cry writing about it. That is perhaps my favorite thing I’ve ever done. Second maybe to making love or being in love. But right now, as cathartic as writing this makes me, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had and I miss it. I miss it so much.

I miss my friends. I miss my old, shitty, low-paying job. I miss playing games. I miss going to trivia on Sundays. I miss learning something every day. I miss almost exclusively learning. I’m used to learning. I don’t do that anymore. I try but I’m exhausted…

I can’t move most days. I have to take pain medication to move. My legs ache every day. I work 9 hours a day. From 7-4. I hate it. I wake up at 5, make some tea, watch about half an hour of television, then head to work with Kidd Kraddick on the radio (who knows why? I could give less of a shit about Hollywood), get there, do classified shit, take an hour lunch where I tend to eat a relatively healthy meal, more classified shit, then I get home, play games for an hour or two, Mariena gets home, we talk or make love a few times a week then I go to bed. That’s it. That’s my entire life.

I’m happier when I drink. That never used to be the case. It used to be the same so I never drank. Now I wish I could convince myself to drink more but every time I go to the store, the only thing that stops me from buying more booze is the thought that Mariena would judge me for it. She knows me as the guy I used to be. The guy who didn’t need to drink and while she occasionally enjoys drinking, she knows I’m not like that. And now…I am.

I hate the paranoia at my new job. Everyone thinks you’re on someone else’s payroll. This makes it worse. No one wants to be your friend. No one wants to be my friend there, so I have none. It’s getting better but it’s not there yet. It’s still a far way away from that.

I think I might go back to night school because I miss learning. I get to go for free because I work for the government. That’s nice. I think I might take advantage of that. The exhaustion may change that though.I can’t exactly work up the energy to work out or do much more than work.

It’s been several months and not a lot has changed.

I like my home though. It’s getting there. It’s becoming what I want it to be. Doesn’t change being lonely though. I am still that. I will always be that I think though. That’s adulthood. It’s not hard. It’s fucking miserable. And only I’m to blame. If this is what life is, why the fuck does anyone bother? I don’t think it’s normal to be completely alone. I used to escape into books. Maybe I should do that some more. Any recommendations, guys? Thanks for that. How am I alone when Mariena is around? Or is she even around? I see her maybe an hour a night. I always thought I was an introvert because I didn’t like to go out or go to parties. Turns out I’m just as dependent as anyone else.

I’m going to work on it, I think. I have to, right? I was thinking of getting professional help. I shouldn’t feel like this, right? But I have to work. So I can’t I guess. I’ll have to make due.