how low

i went to sleep at 1030pm and awoke at 115am to torrential wind blowing trees menacingly close, watching frenetic shadows caused by buckling vegetation sporadically illuminate distant streetlamps. and i felt like something really horrible was happening, or was going to happen- that inconvenient middle-of-the-night dread that i cannot do anything proactive about. there is nowhere to go, no one to call, no option but my own pathetic survival mechanisms. so i got up and wrote some turbid nonsense, and i reread yesterday's paper, and i found myself pacing... and i haven't been back to sleep yet. work was surprisingly competent- it wasn't until the (very busy) day was ending that i began to feel jet-lagged and incoherent. i left almost an hour late. i am still not very tired; i am actually very mellow. perhaps i am just looking forward to getting some semblence of circadian normalcy back tonight.
there is an eerie clarity when wide awake in the middle of the night (only applicable when working early-day shifts as i do now). i thought: i must take better care of myself. i have been bottoming out again lately, and i blame s as a facade for blaming myself. i have been putting up with shit that i do not want to put up with. it has made me very fucking disgusted with myself. i have this repulsive lifelong habit of gravitating towards that which is bad for me, especially with relationships. i don't want to be someone's 'special friend' who they can get drunk with; i don't want to be only smiled at or touched by them when they're inebriated; i don't want to have that 'what the fuck am i DOING?' feeling when, say, after a (drunken, stoned) new year's makeout session i lay in his uncomfortable bed, scooted as far away from him as possible, staring sleeplessly at the clock radio and listening to him fucking snore. yeah, that was why i slept like shit that night. in part. i was grateful to be considered for however blurred a moment 'attractive' by someone, so i put up with the other parts. this would be a non-issue if i was getting emotional and lusty satisfaction on a regular basis from him, if the sight of him made me fucking salivate, if he was the sort of person who would leave florid and hilarious messages on my phone and make me feel like i was fucking special. i find myself romanticizing my fucking EX, for christ's sake, because when he wasn't acting like a suspicious manipulative abusive PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT (which i lucidly remember as being most to all of the time) he had a twisted way of making me feel like he adored me, and our bodies fit really fucking well together, and when things were actually good, i felt safe and smug and giddy about my future.
and thinking these completely retarded thoughts IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT, all by my stupid self, is horrible and sabotaging and only serves to further the catch-22: why do i continually, on however nominal a level, allow shit to justify my life? how have i stumbled through 29 years of existence without truly, on a well-duh level, learning how to fucking respect myself?
i do not recommend these self-absorbed circle jerks to anyone.
luckily i am prone not only to introverted mindfucking, but the glee of distraction! daylight really fucking helps. i cannot wait for summer. i fucking need some sunshine and warmth and blossomy trees and freckles. mentally. was alaska this difficult?
there are no excuses. there never are. if i fuck with my instincts and stay in situations i know to be Bad, i only hurt myself. there is never anyone else to blame.
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coming home from work tonight: 'i'm gonna be (500 miles)' was on the radio. i think i yelled 'YAY!' in the solitude of my vehicle, cranked it up, and sang along as loudly as i could, complete with attempts at the horrid accent. "everything is fucked" has a mecurial way of becoming "fuck it" in the most cheerily absurd way.