The next time I post (which will probably be next week) I’ll have one of those messages that have a point. I’ve already got a few topics lined up. This post, however, isn’t going to be one of those.  This is a post where I admit that I’m ready to give up. Throw in the towel, call it quits, and throw up both hands. I’ve had it. Do you hear me? I’ve HAD IT! I’m through. I’m sick of pretending to be ok. I’m sick of looking after everyone else w/o having anyone asking me how I am and actually meaning it. I once sent a message to a new friend on Facebook about how frustrating it is to be surrounded by people you can’t talk to. “But everybody goes through what you’re going through at some point in their lives. Some people go through it more than once.” Yea, tell me something I don’t know. Wanna know what I say to that? So freaking what?! I’m the one going through this right now. And I just…I wanna quit so bad. I’m sick of fighting. I’m tired of striving and spinning my wheels. I’m tired of walking and getting nowhere. And yes: I realize this is my fault. I realize I have no one to blame for being in this position but me. I accept the blame for that. But who do I blame when I do my best to fix things and nothing happens? I work and work and work to make it right and have nothing to show for it. If anything, I make things worse. I’ve contemplated “running away”. I put that in quotes b/c I have a destination in mind, but I’d be leaving everything and everyone I’ve ever known behind. For good. Minimal contact w/ people from my “old life”. And by “minimal”, I mean less than 5 people. (sigh) I just want to say “Screw it all and screw everyone”. To hell with people. Who needs them?! Opening yourself up means you just get hurt, let down, forgotten and ignored. I saw my godfather on Mother’s Day and he made the comment that I looked like a recluse. My hair has gotten long (a result of not having had a haircut in over 2 months) and my mustache is thick. I hadn’t shaved yet at the time, either. The irony is the fact that he’s right: I’ve become a recluse. At first it was by choice: I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything or see anyone, mainly b/c I didn’t have the money to do so. Even when I did, I still didn’t want to go. A week or two ago I was talking to one of my brothers on Facebook and he told me that another one of our brothers had been asking about me b/c he hadn’t talked to me in awhile. That was also by design: I didn’t want to be bothered with talking to anyone or trying to convince them that nothing was wrong. It was too much work. Eventually, being a recluse by necessity turned into being a recluse by choice. Now, the only time I leave the house is when I have to: going to church or the library. Like I said, I’m ready to quit. I’m an inch away from it. Just saying “To hell with it” and going my way alone. It’s the only way to survive.

One of my friends, Alex (yea, I'm calling you out on this one, dude), left a mini on my last post saying the amount of time it's been since I've updated needs to be remedied. Consider this such a remedy. Within the last couple of months, another friend (who will remain nameless) recently returned to Xanga and I've been reading the posts he's been making in that time span. I'm amazed at how he's grown. He's gained so much growth and maturity since the last time he seriously posted. It's an awesome thing to see. My own growth, while it has been happening, has been a lot slower in coming and I've lit upon the reason why: I hate, and am afraid of, failing. "Isn't everyone?" you might ask. The answer is no. History, and not just, is replete with people who were totally unafraid of, and undaunted by the prospect of, failing. Read Profiles in Courage by J.F.K. and you'll see what I'm talking about. All of the examples he used, technically, failed. But they didn't care. And their failings were quite spectacular and affected a far wider range of people than mine. I fail now, the only person really affected is me. I readily and easily, perhaps even eagerly, own up to my many flaws: I'm too honest at times, too emotional at others; I have a tendency to be long-winded and nosy, sometimes to the point of being intrusive; I'm an excellent liar and take more than a little too much pride in that fact. I also do the same with things I can't do: draw, write computer code, play the violin. Ok, so maybe not giant failings, but still. What gets to me, what really bugs and irritates me, is failing at something I know I can do. Or something I know needs to be done that I can handle. For example: about a week ago, I was @ my grandmother's house helping her do some things. She had a list (which has never happened and I found amusing) of things for me to do and I got started right away. 3 & 1/2 hours later, I had to leave b/c I had to be in another part of the city I live in to volunteer doing something else. The list wasn't complete. Even though I left, I almost didn't want to, something I knew my grandmother would never stand for. But I felt like such a failure. The list, while long, was filled w/ little things that wouldn't have taken long. Most of them didn't. But I couldn't get it all finished. Which, I'll admit, I took personally. But that same attitude permeates to other things in my life: my education, my independence, my spirtual walk. I HAVE to get it right the first time. And I don't know why. I don't understand what this....thing is that drives me to....I don't know what to call it. It's not perfection, by any stretch of the imagination. I don't need things to be perfect, mainly b/c I know that as long as some human is involved, whatever "it" is, is going to get screwed up. Even, and in some cases especially, when that human is me. But I hate failing. Even tho I know that's a part of the human experience, that I'll live through it several times before I die, I still hate it. And my deep-seated need to eradicate it has left me...standing in one spot. "...and never moving forward so there would never be a past."