last night i was imagining moving in with this girl, tonight i am back where i was when i called it off a few months ago: i am not up to her standards, i never will be, and no amount of love or happiness that i try to bring into her life will quench her insatiable appetite for sadness and dismay. at times like these i am worse than useless, and it brings me down to zero, which isn’t hard to do, but it’s a dismal and grating place to have zero opportunity for even fake happiness. i know this pattern well. i grew up with a depressed woman who was (almost said “is”) fully incapable of happiness and even love. it is not so much that i get frustrated or embarrassed by trying to bring happiness to this situation, it is simply that i can not. nobody can. i don’t have a sufficient quantity of money, and i lack the charm and the wardrobe to make this woman happy. happiness requires funding, money, money money money money. that defines happiness. money funds happiness. happiness requires a security deposit, a weekly allowance, and more money than exists in the global economy.
…..
otherwise i had on OK weekend. took some pictures, did some web shit, slept too late and shat too much.