You know, I always enjoy going back and reading these, even though they are, at times, whiny garbage. So I should write more.
Let's see last entry was 4 months ago, so... I guess nothing out of the ordinary happened. Still holding on to my job, which is nice. Started (or continued) going to the gym at least (and for the most part exactly) once a week. I'm trying to interact with women more, not very successfully. Of course that depends on how one measures success, I figure just going in and being rejected is a small victory in my case. I may either have regained my computer (or, well, got a new one) or it was taken away and I now have a worse one (intentionally) depending on how much of this story I already expressed. I don't feel like this is a win.
Mom is doing some Zen-Tangle thing nearby, and thinks that it might also be a useful pursuit for me. I am not so sure- on one hand I have zero interest in the activity, on the other hand I could use some zen, you know. And on the gripping hand, I need a good way to demonstrate value, being able to draw would check that box. So maybe I should go try it. toodles.

Missing half of success

So that last one was an obvious cop out- I know it, you know it, and I know you know. So let's dwell on it no further.

I have been left alone for the week and have been having very real trouble getting out of bed. That is massively frustrating, I know I wasn't always the best at defeating the morning blues, but it was never this pathetic. Or do I just not remember? I feel like no one would tolerate this type of behavior for months. Welp, let's hope the guys will- I have a year long gym membership I don't want to break.
Taxes came in on my property, and it seems I have been way undercharging for it. This also relates to the fact that I need to make my tenant/friend (frienant) pay his own damn utility bills- I don't even live there any more. That is fair, and we kind of discussed this possibility, but I still feel bad about it. I guess I am just not cut out for the life of a landlord. Any lord, really.
Finally, I think I need to start writing something. I know I have nothing to say, but there isn't much demand for amateur editorial work. So the idea is to got to subreddit r/writefaggotry (or whatever it is actually called) and pick a writing prompt that looks interesting. And then write about it, duh. Would you like to read it? No? Fair enough, it probably won't be good the first few (hundred) times.
I used to think the phase "half of success is just showing up" a gross exaggeration, and still do, but with every passing year I see more and more merit in it.

Screaming into the void

It gives me an odd sense of privacy to know that no one reads these anymore. I get statistics about it, and back in the day it used to be 2-3 views per post (possibly by robots, I'm not convinced the platform knows the difference) and now it's finally zero. That means my only reader is the person to whom these messages are intended. Yes you, Kyle. All your life has been leading you up to finding this post, read it carefully. Not because  I have anything to tell you (I'm probably dead by now, what advice can I possibly give that still hold up?) but because the universe is sending you a message. And that message is: go out, have fun, make some mistakes, fix those mistakes, make new ones. The universe wants you to do that. Yes it does. Ya-ha. Look, will you stop arguing with a dead person and go outside, already? I don't want to spoil the surprise, but it's pretty epic.

Are you gone? Suit yourself. Back to my sad life, now. No more messages. I don't actually have anything to say. Wait, am I Kyle? Can't be, unless... nah, she'd tell me. I mean, right? I should go track down my birth certificate.

2 posts 1 girl

So, I actually decided to talk to her. Luckily I always start conversations from triviality, because (she says) I completely misread the situation. Apparently my new friend was entirely made up. I don't mean the girl is in my imagination, I mean it was a role she plays. The role of a "god damned geisha", as he put it. She basically just picks up on whatever the other person seems to want and does that. No wonder she is depressed, I do maybe 10% of that, and I feel exhausted every time. And so, the jokes were fake, the exchanges of geek trivia were fake, the slightly embarrassing, but sweet stories of past romantic experinces were fake (or at least they would not have been offered to someone who was looking for hardcore word-porn.)
One wonders if her whole suicidal ideation shtick was also a fakery- just her idea of what my idea of depression is. Which of course it's not. Depression is not about pain and death (you're thinking of emos) it's about being too damned tired to continue. And she was lively. Damn it, it seems so obvious in retrospect- a depressed person can not be that lively, unless they are faking it for social reasons. I can not be that lively. And yet I bought it- hook, line, sinker and half the fishing rod. The trick to a good lie is that the other party wants to believe it, and I did.
Of course there is another possibility- she did see me in romantic light, but found better. And she felt sorry enough for me that she made up the whole fake connection thing. She did a good job then, I found her explanation odd, but internally consistent. It is, once again, pleasant to believe that the reason we don't talk isn't something I did, but merely a mismatch of personalities. But this time I am on my guard. Or maybe it's just not as pleasant.

(I am not sure how the whole scheduling thing works, but this post follows "Oh, memory", while also being written on the same day)

Oh, memory

I've been meaning to write something, since it seems like my memory isn't that good. At least the part of it that has to do with people. All people, including myself, funnily enough. I can recite (a small percentage of) poetry I learned in high school, and apparently know what HDPE stands for without having ever built anything, but I can not remember half of the stories I hear about myself. So... write more.

Still hung up on that girl. Sigh. I really just want to be friends. Of course, not fake "friends" where I pretend like I'm not lusting after her, and she pretends not to notice, but uses me in small ways. Normal, proper, friends. Because we have so much in common. Which is not to say I would not tap that ass without a warrant, she's cute enough, and frankly, as the shit-person I am, I don't get to be picky about stuff like that. That was a garbage sentence. "I would have sex with that woman". But what I miss about her is a lot more mental than it is physical.
So I wonder what I should do/say to try and get this fact across. Let's face it, just saying "I would rather be friends, than have sex" is an insult. Women (men too!) want to feel pretty/desirable and I would be putting her down. On the other hand, holding position, and just not saying anything seems like a losing strategy here. The one way it could possibly work is by distancing myself from her and then trying for another approach a year (or so) later. Kind of like, "oh, hey I remember you, have you been somehow?" Could be a conversation starter, could be nothing. And I would waste a year. The third option is just pestering her with unanswered messages, mostly in the form of memes (since she has not shown much interest in talking about herself, but she will show off art.)
And that's what's on my mind sometimes, as I said my memory is not string when it comes to people and the pain is (mostly) gone. Every problem is an opportunity in disguise, as they say.

Love (sometimes) sucks

It's been over a year, dear reader, and honestly I didn't expect to be back here. But here I am. I need someone to talk to, I think. Anyway, the most recent thing to happen to me was that I met a girl. A smart, pretty girl who is into many of the same things I am into (only I guess, sort of, forgot) she writes prose and poetry, she's into western graphic novels, video games and she paints (I don't paint, but I find the pursuit delightful.) We've both been through depression, though it would seem in somewhat different ways. I guess I took things too slow- I always had a problem interpreting signals. And now, despite the magical evening we had (actually, that I had, I can only assume for her, and perhaps she didn't) she decided to go with another candidate. Someone she'd fucked (her words.) I understand that she was in a dry spell, but all she had to do was ask (of course maybe she did, in some arcane way neurotypicals communicate, and I missed it, more fool me.) So now I am miserable- I haven't had a crush like this since school and it's really hurts.
My first instinct is to stalk (though, thankfully, I don't have the energy to really go at it.) My second thought (one can hardly call this an instinct) is that stalking has never done anyone any good, and I should just put her out of my mind- if there is one thing I am good at it is forgetting. Mom (I told you I needed to talk to someone) says I should continue low-key communication and see if she continues to respond. I am torn between thinking that is idiotic (who would go out with a stalky loser, after explicitly telling him he was passed over for a good lay?) and knowing that I have infinitesimal experience in this area and should listen to someone who knows how smart girls think.

P.S. It hurts so much, it's almost funny- I'm over 30 now, this shit should have gone away with the teenage hormones.