Table of Contents

My birthday fast approaches!

I don't want to celebrate, really, because I fucking suck.

I Have Nearly No Friends

I don't even recall at this point which year I left Facebook, left Instagram, left all the social media "walled gardens" to exist mostly online via the Fediverse. I recall telling people about my move for a month. I recall several posts encouraging them to unlock the shackles I was leaving behind. I know I posted my phone number and e-mail address with every one.

It's 2026, and by and large, I simply don't talk to those people. My mom died in December, and I doubt most of the folks who once considered me close have any idea. There are different acquaintances in my life now, and so fewer friends. Even if I wanted to celebrate, I don't know that more than my Kitten and her kiddo, or my household here in HTX, would bother trying to join me.

No One in My Life Shares My Interests

  • Wrestling? My Kitten makes a good attempt at times. I try not to make her. I feel she resents my combined passion for it and its relentless weekly schedule. Everyone knows I have appointments Wednesday and Saturday nights, and I think they really wish I didn't.

  • Trying out new web-based services? Designing custom solutions that bodge a few bits of software together? Reader, I can't get a single one of the people close to me to use a single one of these things, no matter my demonstrations.

  • Communism, and my work with the local Party? They all agree that Capitalism sucks, but no one in my tiny circle has the time or energy to read, learn, and attempt fighting on a different front when they fight their average workday tooth and nail.

  • Music? Nope. Kitten used to enjoy headbanger EDM when I'd play it for her. The shared, worldwide burdens that were 2025 and are 2026 have sucked that right out. I'm still pretty angry about a lot of things; no one around me has energy to spend on angry-sounding sensory overload as entertainment.

  • PCB design, crafting, lighting, all the rest.

I feel as though I'm a child in a corner, playing with a small collection of toys, unable to get the adults to pay any interest.

I'm Barely Sexually Active, and Less Imaginitive Each Day

I don't even fantasize any more, really. I only have one sexual partner. I only see her every 4-8 weeks. Her work life is incredibly difficult right now. It's tough for each of us, I think, to occupy the mental and emotional spaces where we find happiness together. I haven't been able to spend enough time there to get past the initial "Oh, right! Sex! I may recall something about that" and move into those spaces, and our preferred relationship dynamic is one in which I lead.

Reader, I can't hardly lead a dog inside from the yard at this point in time.

No One Has Time for My Bullshit

Like this. This is my bullshit: self-reflection, disappointment, and concern.

Everybody has their own sack to carry. Often, if we're doing well in life, others are present and ready to help.

Most times, I simply want an engaged, sympathetic listener. That engagement is tough to get when no one shares my interests, when they are worn down from each and every day. I come away feeling like more of a burden, with all my "trivial" concerns lifting me high on occasion, more often laying me low.

People Are Less Willing to Share with Me

I ask my partners about their days. I want to share in their highs, empathize with their lows, and generally feel a part of their lives.

🤷

I wonder how much of that feels like disingenuous ritual. I am always asking, as each day is new. Sometimes, someone will open up to me; more and more, I worry that I shouldn't add strain to my partners' days by bringing up difficult subjects like work. I ask fewer questions. The replies get shorter.

I only ever have so much to share myself. I have less to share when, frequently, my sharing ends on the feeling that I wasted three or four minutes of my audience's time. My interests are unshared; I am always a kid with a really cool bug to show off.

I Will Always Be Destitute

I don't have enough spoons each day to work a full-time position outside the home. I don't have enough job history and experience to get hired remotely. I keep having, as we all do, Unplanned Expenses!!! that eat my limited income. My limited income comes quarterly from my dad's stock dividends. I'm grateful to have that much, and it's not enough to save.

I Can't Craft

3D printing? The electronics work I'd like to begin? Painting, sculpting?

I had a wonderful table in the den, my 3D printer on one end, a sewing machine at the other. I had patterns, zippers, snaps, spools, wrenches, canvases, tensioners.

I still have those things. The den is full of discarded lives, my HTX partner too busy, too tired, and too emotional to sort through so we could discard together. So we could reclaim space.

It is not important that I have space for art, crafting, and exploration. Not to those around me.

So I don't.

Conclusion

Put all that together, and Reader, I sure don't know why I bother stickin' around. The only thing I feel I add to anyone's life is about 150 lbs. of rocks that, once or twice a week, harangue their bearers to watch a short, funny video. About wrestling. That they don't want to watch.

I'm a burdensome expectation of a morning phone call. I'm a helpful household assistant, whose assistance comes at a price the people around me seem less and less willing to pay.

I fucking suck. I am incredibly tired of a world that has no space for me, a family whose interactions feel more like wearied attempts than real caring, a romantic partner that I seem to keep failing no matter what I try, and a life whose repeated failures make me lose more and more confidence, more of my sense of self, each day.

I want regular moments where I feel appreciated. I try to be worthy of appreciation, care, and love.

I feel that, when it comes, it comes at times and in ways that spur rejection on my part: I'm too tired, or out of spoons and belligerent, or the mention is of something for which I cannot accept congratulations, or I can't manufacture enthusiasm for the display.

That sure sounds like a cycle, doesn't it?

  • I try

  • I often blow myself up trying too hard

  • I want, on average, a happy exclamation, a few minutes of praise, maybe a nibble on my earlobe or a teasing squeeze

  • I get "not those things", be it more ("DO NOT OVERLY PRAISE THE RED SILHOUETTE!") or less (expression that I could have done more)

  • I am unhappy with the expression

  • The person feels bad, and quietly expresses their appreciation less; eventually appreciates less, as they feel each expression comes with too hefty a price tag (my expressing my own emotions)

I have no future.

I have no present.

I don't want to make it to Friday. I don't want to be 47, because I would rather stop than continue sucking so motherfucking hard.

I should rent a cheap motel room or something.