So like I mentioned in a recent submission, I figure this is probably just another step in the downward, mindfuckf of another major episode of depression. I really don't know why I'm bringing this up, bothering to post it. Expression has always been good for me, and as much as I want to evoke tears among other emotions with my art, I don't want to let my crap ass depression be present in it.

Ever since about feburary, that's when the stress kicked up and the 'true' start of this episode could be fingered. Back when I bought this house. It's just been such a hassle. I had been sitting on the idea almost five months at the time, I figured 'hell I don't have a real companion' I might as well get into a long term engagement with something. How fucking naive and bad of an idea that was.

And seriously, as long as I make $8 an hour, 40 hours a week, regularly, I don't have to do much else other than finish painting the place, and keeping it clean. That's before I have people renting from me. Yet this is where a lot of my anxiety attacks stem from. It's trivial crap. I don't know how I allow myself to continuously remain bothered by 'background' noise.

It's the size of this place and how empty it is. Even with a cat, it's still empty, still lifeless. It's still an empty house. Crap can sit for four weeks, and some months I don't even notice the difference. If it weren't for the fact my cat flings litter everywhere downstairs when I don't change his litterbox, well that would be an ugly sight next time I remembered to check it.

I'm just honestly hating how dead this house is to me, not to mention all of the fucked up shit that's happened in it, that I hate trying to rationalize, that I avoid at all costs. This house is for lack of better words, making me crazy. Can't really find anyone to rent from me when the rent is pretty good for what people get compared to other prices.

I'm ranting and venting, I have to fix the house situation, maybe I can find another house, single level, far more manageable for one person.

Or get someone(s) to start renting from me...

I want to spend time with my companion, but a good seventeen hours of driving seperate us. I hold onto this frail little net relationship, like it's the best thing I have going, and in my eyes it is.

I have floated around, I have looked, and maybe it's a matter of it being the wrong time. But any single person I meet who expresses an interest in me, I only find physical interest in. I've spent months trying to nurture an interest in them other than purely physical when it comes to a serious close relationship. It just doesn't happen, I've got a lot of friends, no fuck buddies, significant others, boyfriends, girlfriends, or what have you.

Never have, yet this relationship, it's something else, his personality, his voice, the memories, they make me forget the depression, they make me feel warm and fuzzy. I want to meet him, and hug him, and talk, and share parts of me that I've never wanted to share with anyone else (and no, not just my body, but parts of me as a person, that have been kept personal)

And you know what? If this 'relationship' crashes/fails/ends for whatever reasons, I know I'm going to cry, I know I'm going to hurt. I know I'm going to feel a lot of things, but I'm going to be happy, because I had this opportunity. I'm enjoying what I can of it.

A lot of days it feels like I don't show him enough attention, a lot of days it feels like I don't show him enough affection, a lot of days it feels like I don't show him enough support.

A lot of days, I feel like a failure.

I turn twenty one in six days, and I feel like the biggest failure. Compared to the world, compared to role models, compared to the group of friends I practically grew up with. I have no post secondary education, no job that's lasted longer than a year, other than almost three years as a cook at a KFC. I know my life has just started, but I can't seem to shake the feeling, that even by my own pretty relaxed standards, I'm a failure.

I can't control or do anything about these anxiety attacks I get, I can't seem to do anything about these bouts of depression. You might be saying to yourself 'hey this might be shit this guy can get help with' I've looked down that road, three out of three assessments have recommended medication that all have the potential to reduce creativity.

I'm sorry, that as the person I am, I would rather suffer, and occassionally vent. Than to sacrifice my creativity to be a happier wage slave.

I can't seem to find the happiness in improving as an artist anymore, I can't seem to enjoy myself as a gamer and friend these days. I can't seem to appreciate the accomplishments (what few I have) tucked under my belt. I still see the color in this world, but it all feels grey.

As an artist, it feels like I have failed myself as I can't seem to enjoy life as much as I remember.

Sorry for the rant.