It's always interesting to me to see the considerable gaps in my LJ entries and think about all of the things that might have happened and what importance they may or may not have had and how they'll never be "immortalized" in this fucking shithole of a journal and I can't decide whether or not I'm glad about this fact. Somewhere between apathetic, bitterly-amused and something other feeling, I'm sure. "Glad" probably isn't the word for it.
I was in a joke of a relationship for around 2 years with a 20-something girl who acts like she's 12 and refuses to grow up. She blames anxiety, her parents, and the world at large for not doing a better job of babying her, but that's neither here nor there. It ended long after it probably should have, but we pretended like we could stay friends afterwards. Unfortunately, on account of either my powers of perception suddenly returning to me or because of my way of viewing people in the worst possible light for various reasons, I started to resent who she was and found it increasingly difficult to hide this fact. It's pathetic, really, how little of a friendship actually remained towards the end, but by that point it was the "straw that broke the camel's back" that seemed to have killed it, as she either realized there was nothing left or just "didn't have the patience to deal with my bullshit anymore". I suppose it doesn't ultimately matter and there's that very small part of me that wishes it hadn't gone this way, but I'm almost... glad somehow. My only regret is that I haven't completely forgotten that the bitch even exists and the remnants of her still remain in various ways and short of actively purging myself of everything related to her (which still wouldn't help), I'm stuck with it indefinitely.
What a fucking shame.
There are very few moments in my life where I feel like I'm headed towards some sort of "destination" or long-term goal or actually have anything to look forward to in my pathetic excuse for a "life", but I have noticed some disturbing trends lately. I say "disturbing" but I'm not sure if I'm actually "disturbed" or just only slightly disgusted or perhaps slightly intrigued somehow. In any case, I've noticed that I've been spending a lot of time preoccupied with porn or, more accurately, with the idea of getting commissions or custom videos or other things pertaining to it. I honestly can't tell if this is some sort of active addiction or desperate attempt to fill a void or if it's connected to something else that's unrelated to my insatiable sexual appetite. In a futile attempt at psychoanalyzing myself, I considered the possibility that what I'm really "getting out of" the whole experience is the feeling of control. Being able to tell people what my fantasies are and using them to create exactly what I want. I don't pretend that that sort of thing is remotely "healthy" (what the fuck part of my life is?), but it's an... interesting notion that I couldn't help but entertain for a bit. Not sure what it means, where it's taking me, or what I intend to do about it, other than succumbing to it and adding onto the reasons I hate myself and who I am as a person.
I'd say I was glad that practically no one reads this, but that would be a lie. I think I'm mostly just numb to it.