dreaming of a silent vibrator

i am on the precipice of a very obnoxious tantrum.
this city would be perfect if not for the following things:
-i am jaded. it has been done.
-i am fucking tired of not meeting people. i am tired of feeling like an uptight nerdy party-of-one. i am tired of the same goddamn streets and sidewalks and the political redundancy and the prissily manicured yards and the self-aggrandizing pomposity of it all.
-i still work 35 miles away. and even more inconveniently, it is a great job. is it great enough to move to tacoma, where i would be even more stir-crazy? no. a job should never control someone's life. ever. or, it should not constitute one's reality any more than mine already does.
-i am nauseated by the pathetic realization that if i knew more people here, if i had a warm body around, i would not be feeling these what'snext feelings so debilitatingly.
-i really miss new orleans. not the place itself, to be quite honest; i liken the city (or now, a town) to a lovable licky bedraggled pound puppy with three legs. and that is my bag, what attracts me. but the main thing, the propellant for this crush: the vibe of that place. i just felt better there. i felt mentally calmer, more approachable, a bit more sane. was it because i was on vacation? because i'd fantasized about the place for years? because it lived up to my expectations? because i'm so mortifyingly rudderless here?
fucking damn all of it. at the end of the day, i am still saddled with myself, no matter where. yay. *
nighttime is the worst. the world gets dark and ridiculous expectations set in. problems are amplified. i find myself replaying minor events that happened so long ago, things people said or did, and become enraged because 1. i actually allowed people like that to remain in my life, and 2. i miss the company. i actually miss the mind-fuckery, because a human was attached to it, and we were engaged with one another. this is sick and wrong and utterly fucked, hence the immediate (and far more residual) embarrassment.
a representative for some retirement plan came into work last week. i listened to her spiel, then declined. "i don't have much faith in my own mortality" i said. and then i realized how that must have sounded. i could feel myself blush.
i feel like i have already lived so many completely distinct realities, and have failed blatantly at every one of them.