Sex Confessions

Sex Confessions #31:What the hell is going on

Tonight started when I called up my friend to hang out, but my mindset started two days before, when I had gotten completely trashed. From when I woke up, to the writing of this, it feels like my hangover never left. The headache left, but I’m having trouble focusing. It’s like my mind is operating in a glass jar. I try to speak, such as when I called my friend, and my points become muddled and I spout non sequitors.


Anyway, I chill out at his house, and we leave to drop his car off at the garage. we rent a movie, and see a friend at the movie store. It’s like watching a movie, all my moves are choreographed in advance.


Fuckin a, I’m doing it again. Back on course


The movie we watched was Jarhead. First time I had seen it. Long story short, it made me realize what was fucking wrong with me. Nothing has ever happened in my life. Life has happened, but I don’t like it. I hate what I was in middle school and high school, some quirky, geeky little kid. But nothing major has happened. My parents were divorced when I was in sixth or fifth grade. maybe it was fourth. That is the story of my life. I was an average student, I played a fair amount of sports, but nothing has fucking come of it.

I just don’t know what to do. Like that guy in Jarhead, I’m going insane from lack of action. I left my friend’s home tonight, and took the long way home. Stopped at a 24 hour gas station, and put sixty bucks into my fucking tank. That’s a full 8 hour work day, just to buy some fucking explosive liquid. Took the long way home, took the backroads, and I don’t remember controlling the wheel. I just didn’t give a shit. I didn’t want control of the car, I wanted to revel in being on the edge. Bounding up the road at 95, squeaking around corners, I just didn’t give a shit. Everytime my mind took my foot off the gas pedal, something in my body pushed it back to the floor.


I came to a stop at the four way before my house. I can’t focus, I havn’t been able to focus all weekend. I asked myself what the fuck I was doing and couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer. Took the turn and brought it up to 70, and knew where I wanted to go. It wasn’t home. Took the jeep up to what I guess could be called a lookout point. Thankfully, I was alone up there. took a beer out of the back and got up on the hood of my car.


I was looking out into touristville, Maine, securely nestled between two lakes. I didn’t see it, though, because I had seen it hundreds of times before. I knew what was there. I only intepreted shapes, darkness and light, the moon waxing silver off the surface of the lakes.


I just sat back and stared up at the stars. The Perseid meteor shower was making it’s last appearence for the year, and I felt like the only person paying attention to it.


Just what the fuck was I doing up here? What the fuck am I doing with mylife? WHY THE FUCK AM I TALKING TO MYSELF!?


That’s right, because I’m all alone. At the end of the day, I’m all alone. If I had someone to share this with, I would be fine. All I have to trustis the intuition inside my head, and it has never steered me correctly.


I must be going crazy, because that’s the only reason someone would careen down country roads and wind up on a hill, holding a beer and looking out over a beautiful countryside he despises. So if I am crazy, how did I get here? Why am I crazy? I? I don’t even know who the FUCK I am. Looking at the stars, watching satellites pass over I try to focus on that question I can’t focus, I can never focus.All I know is that I hate who I am. I hate who I was in the past. I was okay with who I was as a child, but that never lasts.


I hate everything up to this point. I’m only 19, and I hate what the fuck has happened. I wish i could erase it from my memory and start again. I just want it all GONE. everything. sucking up at baseball as a kid, sucking up at soccer as a kid, fucking up my first three relationships, being a stupid fucking geek in middle school. I recently found all the star wars books that I read as a kid and wanted to throw them all in a fire and shoot myself for being that fucking stupid.

I just want to get out of here. I know that if I can get out of here, I can be okay. I’m looking at these lights, and know that there are thousands of second homes down there. Rich fat bastards with their boats and camps and mercedes. Payments, kids, mind numbing television and junk food. I don’t want that, and I’m surrounded by it. I don’t want a god damned thing. I want to get the fuck out of this depressing, elitist, motherfucking alpha dog existence called the american dream. I woke up from the dream long ago. Everyone’s fucked in their own way. It’s selfish to say, but I don’t want anything to do with it.

I want out.


I may be on the right track, there, going to a maritime academy. My one respite comes under sail, on the ocean. Endless ocean, endless possibility. Maybe I’ll join the peace corps after school, get the fuck into the real world. Not the “Welcome to the real world, Here’s your office, bitch”, I can’t live in this god damned inaction cleverly disguised as action. Fuck that. I need to get out of here, or I’ll completely go insane.


Riding along that road, I got tunnel vision when I hit 95 and 100. I wasn’t afraid of losing control, hitting the woods and wrapping around a tree. In fact, I was secretly hoping to hit that hidden bump or slick of oil that would fuck me over one last time.


If this means nothing to you, I don’t give a shit. I was hoping thatwriting this out would help some, but I feel nothing, and doubt hitting that “send” button will change that. I’m too clusterfucked to unwrap in one email. It’s midnight, and I have four days left at my summer work. I just want to keep fucking dreaming, because dreaming is easy.


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