I'm done lying to myself (about lying to myself)

 

When I lie to myself now, it will be with the understanding that this is what I'm doing. I'm telling a version of events to suit my agenda. 

Right now, I'm feeling a passive-aggressive angry feeling because Rienna cancelled our meetup. We never even had plans. It was plans to make plans and possibly meet up while she was in California. She sent me a quick message saying she'd be too busy, and I lived too far away. She felt bad, blah, blah, blah... I messaged her back as politely and understandingly as I know how, but Facebook Messenger's tattletale service that shows when a message was viewed doesn't indicate that she even read my message.

So, here's how it plays out in my head. Obviously, I built this up way too much. It meant much more to me than it ever did to her. I don't rate a response or even for her to bother reading my response. I obsess too much over perceived rejections and slights, where I should just not give a shit and move on. I keep checking to see if she's at least read my message, as if that will somehow indicate something.

When she left me in 1994, it was sudden and, once again, I was the one who was attached and upset at the breakup. I didn't have the self-esteem then to feel OK within myself to let it roll off of me. I took it personally. What I should have done is let myself seal off that part of me for good so that I'd never invest another lousy feeling on this person. 

I can't help it, though. Even though I'm mad at her for not caring for me like I do for her, what can I do? I feel guilty for even writing this down, even if no one ever sees it.

I should just resign myself to the fact that I'll live and die here alone. I have no real friends, and I just entertain people on Facebook once in a while to get likes or comments. Real friends, well, I wouldn't know what that would even look like in my life. I'm no one's friend, and no one is mine. 

I got mad at Denise Graubart for not responding to a message a couple years ago when she was visiting up here. She came within 50 miles of my house, and I offered to meet up with her and her family somewhere, but yeah, itinerary planned, time not allotted. But I figured a response at least...

Fuck it. This is me, pouting. Inside on the outside. Not so pretty, huh? Not so wizened or brilliant. Just a sad, old pathetic guy who wishes more people liked him. And not just that superficial bullshit about hugs and best wishes, emoji, emoji. I'm sure that's the currency these days, but it's fiat in my book.

My shrink is just another person who will listen to my crap, but hasn't a clue of how to fix me. Doesn't even make that promise. So I go, but instead of feeling better, I just feel more hopeless. Because now there's one more person in this world who has zero chance of liking me, since they know a little about me. 

I should dump the whole thing because it's going to cost me money to go there. I've already gotten SSD back, so it's counterproductive. If my shrink thinks I've improved too much, it will reflect in my files, which are accessed by the evaluators who assess my worthiness of receiving benefits.

I have too much to bitch about, and even I'm tired of hearing it. Inside my head or out on the pages of this blog, I disgust myself.