I haven't been writing in my journal(s) lately because I haven't really known what to say. Twitter lets me keep up my moment-to-moment thoughts, but bigger things have stayed buried. Partly, they're boring. I work, I sleep, I eat...usually in that order. If I do anything else, I tweet and move on. There aren't many larger ideas that need to be expounded upon.

I don't like talking about work, because it basically just turns into a bitch-fest and that doesn't need to last longer than 140 characters. Fact is, I need to do something else before I kill myself, my family, and/or my co-workers. I'm also deathly afraid of being fired at any moment and not being able to find another job.

Sleep is terrible. It's this other obligation that, like work, I have to do or I will die. There's no comfort, no solace, just expectation. I hate having to sleep. I hate the process of waking up. I think I've even begun to hate beds.

Speaking of beds, sex seems finally dead to me. While my fantasy life is full and rich, the actual process of sex has become yet another obligation. I have to stay active and erect for as long as it takes for my partner to get off without coming myself and...apparently I just can't do it anymore. The balancing act is too now much; either I risk coming too soon or I risk losing my hard-on altogther. What's worse, I can't seem to rub or eat a pussy anymore without pain in my hand or jaw. I am officially both Selfish and Old.
And kink? I think I'm tired of it. I'm having a hard time with roleplay (I've never been good at improv) and my interest in BDSM has plummetted.`I know, I was`never huge into it, but I was honestly digging on it for a while. I don't have the patience to learn how to tie people up and I don't have any further interest in sanitized, self-controlled violence (if I want that, I'll go back to watching WWE). The next time I hit someone, I intend to kill them.

I don't think about what I eat because there's no point in eating properly if I'm not also going to exercise. I don't exercise because I can't make myself do it and it's not convenient. So, I'm fat, I hate looking at myself, and yet I'm unwilling to do anything about it.

What this all means is that I'm a very unhappy person for at least 120 hours a week and for the other 48 I'm terrible boyfriend (or at least, a terrible lover). I am, perhaps, the most depressed I've ever been, because everywhere in my life I see evidence of my complete and utter failure at life.

So, that's one reason I haven't made any big-ticket purchases lately.