Random Journal Entry from June 15, 2008
Pictured here are my journals – 13 journals in all. The first entry is 1/8/97 and continues to the present. Jim Carroll’s The Basketball Diaries started me on my journaling path while I was living in Cambridge, England in the summer of 1997.
I bought the skull and bones journal pictured here on ebay. It has that thick parchment paper and a real leather cover. Even though it’s unlined, I managed to keep the writing from being too slanted. Here is a random entry that I typed out for easier reading.
Stuck in this fuckin’ rut!! Feel like there’s no way out except for suicide. I have been thinking about suicide a lot lately. Not like this since I was at that shitty Roseville job. Killing myself would be such an escape from the ever-present disappointment, self-hatred, hopelessness and fear that my daily life has become. Pointless. Why try living anymore?
I’ve got to do something. Send out more resumes. Fish for opportunities. I’m not living anymore. I stopped progressing about five years ago. I’m on the way down now.
I’ll never marry Amanda, so I don’t know what I’m doing. Another thing that has stalled. But my entire life has stopped. I feel like I’m dead now anyway. Why not just make it formal? What my life is now is not living. People progress – I stall. Nowhere. Hate me!!
Embarrassed of every aspect of my life. Home, car, job, relationship, money. I HAVE NOTHING!! Nothing to live for.
Mistakes and bad choices have ruined me. Fucked me forever!!
When are you going to buy a house? NEVER!!
I am so fuckin’ scared!! This will never get better. In this apt. forever. I’ll never get a real job and make real money. Panic sets in all the time. I shouldn’t want to kill myself, but I think about it – serious thoughts.
Commentary – Looking back at this, I would like to say it was just melodrama. In reality, it was someone kept down by a constant cloud of depression. It was a common thread through so many journal entries of mine at the time. It was a person thinking that microwave popcorn dinners and having to choose between trash bags and toilet paper at Target was his fate (toilet paper always, always won). I would grab a handful of those little white plastic bags at the checkout and use those as trash bags. It required having to carry little loads of garbage to the alley multiple times daily.
At the time, I was working some random contract position that some random staffing agency got me. It may have been Thomson Reuters…in fact it was. I was working at TR when I met Amanda (see third paragraph of entry). We had been dating for about six weeks at the time of this entry, and not even constant female companionship and morning sex before work could get me out from under that black cloud of negativity.
I was still driving my rusty 1995 Mitsubishi with the long crack in the windshield. That crack made the windows frost on the inside too when it got cold. I’d have to use the ice scraper on the inside and end up with ice shavings all over my dashboard. Note that even though Amanda was my girlfriend, I wrote that I’m embarrassed of my relationship.
I was living in a tiny, old apartment in Uptown at the time. Amanda hated it. She always had to circle the block multiple times to find a parking spot and would enter my apartment in a shitty mood because of it. I eventually got out of that apartment and bought my house.