My son is crying in the other room. My wife is trying to console him, perhaps give him some medicine. It's 2:30 in the morning. I slept all day yesterday, but not the night before. My parents are visiting me. They love me but I hate them. I have no real reason to hate them. They were decent parents. I suppose they still are. But I hate them nonetheless and just want them to leave. They're getting older, nearing retirement age. I never want to speak with them again. I never want to speak with anyone again. Maybe my son, but I think about the world he's growing up in, and how he'll soon be scared and jaded like me. Getting married was a mistake. Having a kid was a bigger mistake. Yet the love I feel for him is indescribable. The ambivalence is killing me.


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A couple years ago, I was still doing well, at least that's what it appeared like. I had a great career, which, really, I loved, but I was so tired, so stressed. I was drinking, a lot. A couple years before that I was on top of the world. I had my dream job. But I flushed it all down the toilet. Why? I don't know. Too much stress. Always, too much stress. When I go out and engage, even if I have success, I come back home and second guess everything. When I stay home and don't try, I stress out over not living up to my potential. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. People don't understand. My parents don't understand. I just want to be drunk or high, just to numb myself for a little while. I've been sober for almost a month now. Longest since I can remember. They want me to go to therapy. I know it won't help. They want to take the last of my savings from me, they're scared I'll spend it on booze and drugs. I was back on the right path, I slipped, did something stupid, and they threw me in the psych ward. I managed to get out quick. I'm good at faking being happy and well adjusted by now. I never want to be deprived of freedom ever again. But now, I'm even more broken. I don't want to get back on the right path anymore. I don't have the strength.


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I have talent, I have intelligence, I even have decent looks. I learned how to be sociable, how to small talk, how to build rapport and get people to like me. But all the while, I always hated myself. There has scarcely been a day in my life that I didn't wish for a nuclear bomb to blow up on top of me while I slept. I've managed to build successes here and there. But everything I built, I inevitably flushed down the toilet. Self-destruction. Burning all my bridges. There always comes a day when I just say "Nope. Not getting out of bed today." Turn off my phone. Just quit. I can "get back out there" and rebuild again, but, what's the point? I'm just going to flush it all down the toilet sooner or later again. Just going to let everyone down again.


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But my son keeps growing. I can't bare the thought of him growing up without me. But I also can't bare the thought of him having a broken shell of a man for a father. Even if I can keep some of my savings, they'll run out sooner or later. My wife can't support us by herself forever. I want to get back out there, but I don't, I can't. I don't know why. I can't. 


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I don't know what I hate more these days, myself or the world. Society is fucked. We're on the verge of societal collapse. But everyone keeps going on as if everything was fine and dandy. Yeah, I could get back out there. But I'd have to deal with the retards. The selfish fucks. Always complaining. Their fucked up faces. Their inane chatter. And the good ones, well, they'd have to deal with me. Yeah, they'd like me at first. I'd help them. But then I'd let them down and disappear again. They wouldn't know why. Maybe some of them blame themselves. I miss them, my friends and clients. But I can't. I just can't.


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Maybe, once my parents leave, I'll reconnect with them. Or I'll just find some random bullshit job. It doesn't really matter. I won't be happy. I'll just keep on pushing through. I'll put on a happy face. I'll start going to AA meetings again. Maybe I'll start seeing a therapist. But none of it will be real. I'll be going to sleep, regretting everything I'd done that day, wishing for death in my sleep. That is, on the nights when I sleep at all. Yeah, I'll be "sober", except I'll be guzzling a gallon of coffee and energy drinks every day, just to get through the day.


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It's hopeless. I don't think I'm ever going to have sex again. I'm not even sure I want to. I don't really want anything. I still enjoy eating I guess. I still have that. I'm tired. I should go to sleep. I want to go to sleep. But I don't want to. I can't. If I lay down, will sleep come? Or will I just lay there until dawn, maybe catch an hour of fake sleep before my wife shakes me awake to take a shower and get ready for my son's birthday party tomorrow? Her parents are coming. My brother is coming. I don't want to see any of them. I'm afraid they'll confront me and put me down again. All of them ganged up on me. Me with no defense except anger. And them questioning why I'm getting angry.


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I hate the summer. 3 AM and I can already hear the birds. I love the night. Alone, silent, I can breathe at night. I'm choking during the day. I hate everyone and everything. I especially hate God for putting me in this place. It's hell. Or fate, or the universe, or whatever. I used to be spiritual but not religious. I'm not even that anymore. I don't know what I am. I have a vague conception of what I could be. But I'm getting older. I feel more tired than ever before. They all say I should be rested because I haven't been doing anything. But the more I rest, the more I sleep, the more tired I feel.


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Fuck you all. I love you. Fuck it. It's hopeless. It's so utterly, utterly hopeless. But I still love you, I love humanity, I believe every human being has something beautiful and special about them. If I met you, I could get you to feel better about yourself. Almost without fail, that's been the case with everyone who's spent at least a couple hours talking with me. And in that time I've felt better. But afterwards, I feel terrible again. And before, I feel so anxious that I sweat profusely, or have to piss every five minutes. I'm tired. I don't want to stay but I don't want to leave. I hope no one reads this, even though I'm desperate for some attention and some connection. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck it all. It's fucken hopeless. End. Rant.