3 Pages Attepmt Again 4

I curse today. With everything in me I curse today. I got to do everything I wanted to do, I execised for forty five minutes, ate a good and healthy breakfast, played games but I didn't do the one thing I wanted to do today. I wanted to write my Cain story for two hours and I'm so scared of it that I shudder at the thought. I was barely able to make myself do these pages today. What is wrong with me? Why am I like this? It feels like NOTHING is going my way. Maybe I should give up on being a writer and be a gamer instead. I'll be like Jack Torrence and blow this whole sucker sky high. I need a bomb, or a overheating boiler. 

Anyway, the stupid home people sent me a message saying that they fixed my window. Then why is it still proped up with my pole? Idiots. Morons. I told them exactly where to find it. Now the heat will get out and I'll end up paying for the AC. Oh, but I did do something right today, I almost, almost, ordered blue earrings for my coworker. It's not like I'm a week off from her birthday or something. It's almost July and I'm feeling my age. I'm almost thirty eight and I want to end it. Maybe not death, just stop the march of time for a moment. 

Oh, I also have game night which I'm not looking forward to. I have to play games with strangers which stresses me out. It's always strange when you're with friends of a friend. I'm playing the wizard madman I wanted to play but it seems like I won't have any fun. God, what is wrong with me that I'm feeling like this? Writing should bring me joy, not this misery that I'm carrying in my soul. I just don't know what to do with my life. I'm faced with this existential crisis of asking God why did he make me. I didn't ask to be made. I want...I want to stop. Not die, just stop. 

My therapist suggested I make my inner critic sound like Skeletor from He Man, but that's not working. I honestly don't know what this sickness that has taken over me is but it feels like a weight that's making me drown. I'm jealous of other people that have a purpose or the ability to make things they dream of into a reality. What do I have. It's like that scene of Hell where the rich man can see Lazarus being comforted in heaven. It's not the flames, it's not the darkness, it's that window that constantly mocks him that really twists the knife. 

What else kind of crap can I say to get this over with? I've almost finished The Shining. Is that why I'm feeling so bad? Is it because I get high off of King's work and this time it didn't work. I used to read this book called Solar Flare and I was so into it that I started thinking about making my own bunker at home in case that really happened. 

I feel like my dopamine sensors have finally snapped. I don't feel any joy in anything and I have tried everything. Except for sex and drugs but those kinds of joys are better in a group. I'm kidding. I'm just tired of the monotony and I don't know how to get out. God help me.

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