Congenitally unhappy. It can’t be fixed and won’t get better.
** It’s been a couple of hours since I posted this. I hate posts like these.
I was distracted for a few minutes while Nacho Kitty attacked me. I let her chew on my arm for a little while then reminded her that even with her teeth and claws I’m still the human being here. She’s fast, but the human being is faster, and he has two hands. She has no hands and is therefore completely without thumbs.
My favorite activity is sleeping. I’m very rarely depressed while I’m sleeping. One would think that dreams would all be depressing, an expression of my waking state, but they’re not. Sometimes things are sad, but never really depressed. Weird. They’re not really happy, either.
I committed yet another act of self destruction last week. Anytime things get better, I always find a way to make them worse.
I’m really sick of it.
I hate not having my own life. I’m not a fully functional person.
In the past people have pointed out that things could be worse, and some other people have it much harder than I do, but it’s not a matter of what I have or how it is, it’s a matter of who I am and how I don’t work. My standard is internal, not that high, and still I’m lacking.
** A couple more hours have passed…
Best Sesame Beef: Kwok’s Wok, Tulsa, Oklahoma, 90’s
Best Cleopatra Chicken: China Restaurant, Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, 80’s
Best Cheese Enchiladas: Monterrey’s Tex Mex, Tulsa, Oklahoma and area, 80’s-today
Best Guacamole: Mine… Hasn’t been made since 2003 or so
Best OTC Medication: Zantac. I’ve only taken it three times, each time it saved my life, I’m sure
Sesame Beef wasn’t on the menu at Kwok’s Wok. It’s usually made out of chicken, of course, but I asked them if they would make me some with beef. They made it with really thin slices of beef and it came out somewhat chewy yet crispy… just AWESOME. Really, it was fantastic. The Chin family ran the place. They shut down to return to Hong Kong.
I believe the China Restaurant is still operating in Broken Arrow, but they moved and it was never the same. The food changed slightly and it wasn’t as good then.
** More time…
I am thankful for many things, but the list doesn’t include my life. I can’t shake the feeling that life is more of a punishment than a gift. At times in the past I’ve cooked up the theory that we’re here by our own choosing, that life is a vacation of sorts — time on our own, time away from knowing everything and everyone, a chance to discover things anew. And then during my most crazy time I turned paranoid and my theory became that I was a political prisoner in life, sentenced to 40 years of suffering for refusing to do something, or for something I believed and wouldn’t keep to myself. Almost 43 years have gone by now. I guess the jailer lost the key.
But, I’m too much of a pussy to kill myself and too stubborn to wish I was someone else (akin to changing) so I’m terribly stuck. I know things will turn out terribly — not in a blaze of fantastic, dark glory, but in a slow fade to tepidness, not tortured but miserable, not screaming, just disappointed.
There are no more adventured in my future.
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