Tyranny of Healing

Quarter to one, and I have a few drinks in me amidst copious, conscientious hydration. I feel like a failure for taking care of myself. Hell, I feel like a failure for not double-spacing after a period, sometimes.

I split my time between trying to write, noodling on the internet, working on comic books, kung fu, drinking at the same coffee shop and the same bar for long stretches of time, going just past my comfortable threshold on both of them (which has become pathetically minuscule in recent months), sitting still for dental work, sitting still for therapy, sitting still for rolfing, sitting still for meditation, and doing whatever I can to keep from picking a fight with someone just to break something, just to feel like what I'm doing matters.

There's but one person who wants to talk to me. I love her dearly, but we're not going to work outside of an intense, beautiful friendship that will last our whole lives. Even then, I don't seem to know how to talk to her, how to communicate all of what I'm thinking and feeling, and it makes me feel so alone, so freakish that I can only seem to talk to people after dulling my senses with alcohol. Even then, I come on strong, I stick on stupid topics for too long, and I can't escape that feeling that I'm far too "unique" for anyone to speak to me. Have I just lost touch so badly that simple conversations have become impossible for me? Do I face certain doom for wanting what I want and not settling for the fucked-up scenarios that come across my path? Do I face a future of unquestionable doom for disappearing from the radar of promising fields because I keep my integrity?

Good lord, I know I fuck up; I really do. There's just so much bullshit out there. It seems so pointless to try, sometimes. I probably will anyway. I'll face the same uncomfortable glances at anywhere but me, the same discussions on anything but what I'm talking about, the same stiff discussions about "what I do" rather than "who I am" and I will try my damnedest not to seem like a brooding teenager past his prime. I'm going to wonder whether or not I'm a waste of space. I keep falling asleep nad holding down various keys.

Hopefully this little confession unclogs something.