Daily Record of Dysfunctional Thoughts (92 exact date unknown)

Daily Record of Dysfunctional Thoughts

I shall hang myself before year's end.

I will always be alone and miserable and will die this way.

No one cares.

I am incapable of having a good relationship.

I am a fucking jerk.

Life sucks.

I hate all women everywhere.

I especially hate all the happy people who have it made.

I should kill myself before I do serious damage to others.

Hang myself.

Sucks, I'm too scared to do it. 

Guess I'll have to tear myself up with drugs and alcohol.

Fuck it! Fuck it all. Fuck everything and fuck you!

If I don't die soon, I guess I'll fall down...

Rejection (92)

You think you fuckin’ know about

        Feelin’ like dirt?

Do you

        Think you have a clue about

                Having no self-worth?

Well, you haven’t even scratched

        A flake off the scab

        Off the scar of my heart

        Which was broken in

        Pieces on the floor

        Like a jar

        On the day you left

        Me for good

                                           E

                                           I

                                           D

                                           A

                                           N

                                           N

                                           A

                                           W

Untitled (date approximate)

You were fun, for a while

A couple times you made me smile

You hung around til my feet left the ground

Now it's time for me to come down

 

It's alright, I'll be fine

Just need time to clear my mind

Get you out of my system, out of my head

Got to give you up, bitch, or I'll wind up dead

 

These hands are not my hands

These feet do not belong to me

My head is someone else's

In the mirror is nothing there to see 

Cognitive therapy only works when you identify the types of distortions and form rational responses (Genny and Depression, cont.) Mid 93

Automatic Thought:

Jennifer hasn't called. Maybe she doesn't like me.

 

I can't call her again. I must wait for her to call me, to see if she really likes me or if she is just putting up with me when I call.

 

I know she will never end up liking me.

I will make an ass out of myself and will be jealous or a crybaby, and she will never want to be around me.

It will never work.

I am incapable of having a quality relationship. I always blow it by pestering the other person too much. Or I wait for them to call, and they don't, and I assume it's me they don't like, or I'm not important to them. Maybe I'm not.

I will grow old and die like my grandfather, old and alone, or else I'll die of cancer or something.

Jennifer will never call me.

Jennifer will not call today.

I will try not to call her.

My bicycle injuries hurt.

This drug I'm on makes me feel psychotic.

I will never be fit to have a relationship.

I don't think she likes me anyway. I think she likes Matt or Bruce or whoever else is in her life, not me.

I could never be the object of her desire. 

 

She just pities me cause I'm a poor, lonely fool. She wants to be a nurse, that's why.

I have no friends. That's a lie; there's Mona and even Brian. But my uncle Steve thinks I'm a sissy or a geek or whatever. 

Who cares? Nobody.

I can't call my mom cause I've been smoking pot. Mona's at work. Wreath, I don't know well enough and don't have her number.

I'm going to sit and cry until I have to go to work.

I can't even play guitar.

2 Women Blues (early '90s)

I'm going crazy. Because I live in a box,

and my love life's all shocks and surprises.

Complicated mazes, dazes and cuckoo clocks, and to

my alarm, two delicious dishes to tantalize us.

Which is meaning me, who is stuck in this dilemma,

I've got two lovely women, all tears and no lovin'

Which is what I'm coming to, the punch line,

And then there were none...

Genny and a few thoughts on Predestination and Foreknowledge

Suppose a man could see into the future and he sees that, on Aug 4, 1996, his wife of 20 years would leave him for a foreign billionaire on a spur of the moment proposal at a public gathering. This man and his wife have enjoyed 20 wonderful, faithful years together through illness and financial hardship good and bad times, but nonetheless, at this time, on this date, it is slated to happen. It has already happened. It is.

So, the question is, should he spend the next four years with the woman, knowing what she will do? Should he deprive himself of any further companionship with her to protect his already broken heart? Should he kill her now and preserve her memory? He must go crazy.

Because he cannot bring himself to kill her, yet he can't live with her with the knowledge of future betrayal, he is hopelessly deranged and dreams up a host of delusions to convince his poor aching head to stop tormenting him.

One is that he is in a top secret Merchant Marine society. He is always found in bus stations, drooling and holding his cap out, as if asking for money. He develops mongoloid features and speaks with a slow Southern drawl. He urinates publicly and off balconies. He wets himself. He has become the laughingstock of Yolo County.

His size, incredibly, shrinks down to about 4-1/2 feet and he develops breasts. He sports his hair in a Dr. Spock Vulcan bowl-do and has remarkably pointy ears. However, he dies a very wealthy man and well respected in the furniture industry.

This has nothing to do with the fact that his ex-wife to be will be married to one of the world's wealthiest Yugoslavians on Jan. 12, 1997. He died, by the way, of the sudden impact of steel debris, from a railroad explosion, to his temple, causing brain leakage. He was fucked. Anyway, our story follows the woman who married the Yugo tycoon...

You know, Genny, I know that you don't know what you want and can't promise that you won't eventually break my heart. I think you see more clearly than I do. But right now, today Aug. 19, 1992, I know that I like you terribly much and want to be a part of your life. But don't let me be lonely tonight...

Dearest Jennifer (Genny): A psycho breakup letter

Dearest Jennifer,

This is a very difficult letter to write. I really don’t know what I want to say or how to say it. I’ll try to be brief.

I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Reason: I am certain that I will be hurt too badly and I just couldn’t stand to get any more attached, only for it to end in sadness later. Reason why I’m certain it would end in sadness: 1. It always does. 2. I am too immature and unable to handle the emotional stress of a relationship. 3. You are a sweet, free spirited person who deserves someone who is not a manic-depressive emotional cripple.

The reason I don’t exhibit erratic behavior around you is because when I am with you I feel happy, wanted, fulfilled. When I don’t hear from you or you don’t return my calls or call when you say you are going to, I am quite different. 

 

My rational mind says, “Don’t sweat it. She probably just got busy. Besides, people have lives to live. Be patient, etc, etc.” 

 

But Satan or my evil other self tells me, “Man, the reason people always flake on you is because you are boring. You’ll always be unloved and alone. See, if she doesn’t call, this proves it.”

Anyway, I can’t see putting you through another negative experience with someone who is, in all probability, as screwed up or more so than the person you just left. It’s not that I don’t wish it could be different. I cannot begin to express the joy that your company, conversation and hugs have brought me. But I am just a poor beggar, enjoying a handout from a table he will never be able to sit at.

I am ashamed to be 27 years old and so fucked up inside. I am living in a self-created hell of rejection and loneliness. Because I know you will eventually reject me or break my heart, I am sparing myself and you unnecessary pain. I am also wasting and ruining another friendship.

But shouldn’t life be less painful? I think about what others have, ie happiness, love, fulfillment—and I want to cry. Then I become frustrated, then angry, then listless and resigned.

If I knew for certain that I was going to be this FUCKING MISERABLE a year from now, I would kill myself today. I just don’t have the strength to believe in myself anymore. Get counseling, you say? Sure, anyone can pay someone to care about them for an hour, but I have to live with myself day in and day out. I am getting sick of it.

Anyway, as you are obviously too well-adjusted and happy to be dragged down into my pseudo-psychotic self-pitying bullshit, I hope to spare you the worst of it by not letting you get involved with me. Please don’t be hurt or offended. That’s my job.

You will have no problems finding someone who will make you happy and be a strength to you. I radiate only insecurity and guilt. I am not worth it. We can still “be friends” and talk, etc. I don’t want you to feel guilty or like you have to be nice to me. I am an asshole, you’d do better without me. Feel better?

You never have to see me again or call me if you don’t want to. I expect that anyway. So don’t feel bad. I’ve gone on too long, so I’ll shut up now.

Goodbye,

Andrew

Genny Friendzone Rant (Explicit)

It's all over between me and Genny. She wanted to relegate me to that expansive circle of acquaintances that includes, oh, Satan, Saddam Hussein, Herman Munster, the Elephant Man.
 
That's right; we're "just friends." 

Ok, so I have to regret the passage of the cheesecake without having more than sampled the crust. But what can I say. I like to lick my lips, fondle the fork, toy with the topping, before committing the irrevocable act of Tasting. 

Well, I could have picked up on the signals better I suppose: 

Like when she said, "What do you want to happen tonight?" 

That was my cue to say, "Whatever you want to happen." 

"You make me so wet." 

"I want you to feel comfortable touching my breasts. " 

"Tell me if I do  anything you don't like," (followed by a quick fondling of my penis).

"You have a wonderful penis." 

"Let's get stoned and forget all our sensibilities." 

Ok, do you think she wanted me? 

Now, thanks to my quadmate, Ed, I know the difference between a bitch and a slut: 

"A slut is a girl who fucks everybody; a bitch is a girl who fucks everybody but you."
 

Andrew Letter 47 - Another day, another love, and I discontinue Zoloft

 

8-1-92

 

Dear Mom,

 

Well, here it is, and it would be day 8 of z-treatment, however, I was forced to discontinue due to a bad reaction.

I believe the drug was beginning to make me more unstable than I would normally even be. I would be ecstatic, unstoppable one day, and the next I would be angry, frustrated, experience fear and "antsyness." Then, depending on what thoughts would come flying into my mind, I would either feel like crying for 3 hours or curling up in a ball on the floor to avoid acting on ideations of self-mutilation.

It sped me up way too much. I had a near episode at work when a client became abusive. It was all I could do to control my breathing and stand there and not kill him. Someone would say something, and I would find myself applying all the cognitive therapy techniques in reverse. So, in a nutshell, I was freaking out. I also was not eating or sleeping satisfactorily.

I believe that the answer to my problems lies in applying the techniques in the book, not in chemical enhancement. It is just not for everyone, I guess.

On the upside, the other day, right after the day I cried and curled up, I met another girl. It came about through natural circumstances (not the personals). I was reading by the pool and went in the rec room to check my mail. There was a girl in there racking up the pool balls, and she said "hi" to me. Pretty soon, we were playing pool, then making plans for later on. We took a ride downtown to the concert in the park and then walked around town.

It was incredible. The conversation never lagged. There was no uncomfortableness. I could really tell that this girl actually liked being with me. She was excited, I was excited. Like being a teenager.

Just the day before, I was on the floor waiting for girl #1 to call, and she never did. That fueled my reality distortion that I was worthless and would die alone and miserable. And as if by magic or God or Instant Karma, the next day I meet my new friend Kathleen.

Now, she is really cute! She's also 25, closer to my age. And she lives right in the apartment complex. I will refrain from saying "I think I'm in love," although you know I must be thinking it. Anyway, we have a date tonight, and I feel confident, happy and not at all awkward. I will continue this after I get back ...

Mom, I think I want to marry this girl. Although it was not exactly a "date," we rode bicycles in the park and ate at a nice restaurant afterward. There has been no physical contact, which, although it would be reassuring, is not really necessary at this stage. We are just friends. I want to be with her all the time, and I could go on and on with praises for her, but I have to go to work.

So, you see ... the lesson is ... I sure as hell don't know, but I'm just going to go with it. We are going to see each other tomorrow. She initiated it. It is so nice to feel wanted. After we become good friends, we shall have to do some camping together. And get engaged ... sigh!

Well, gotta go, I'll be riding my cloud to work tonight.

 

Love, your incredibly joyous son,

Andrew