The thing is…

The thing is I have slow hands and a fast heart.

However, I truly do my best to try to play my stupid part.

Problem is, the play I’ve been cast in is a horrible work of art.

Worse than that is this role I’ve been cast in ain’t nothing but ah la carte.

I was born an emotional storm that was built to perform.

In regards to what’s normal I’ve always trouble trying to conform.

Yet here I’ve been cast as nothing but bloody scenery.

What I want to do is explain to every one what little they have seen of me.

The thing is my rough edges refuse to conform.

And the result is I’m left the way wrong shade of bloody greenery.

The thing is I was born with a fast heart.

Slow to judge and fast to fondness.

What I want is perfect politeness, a truly lost art.

It’s one of the deepest cuts, heavily ingrained in my subconscious.

The thing is I don’t want to be fake or run my life like a scam.

My heart beats different in order to design a more artful electrocardiogram.

The thing is I have slow hands.

In all things social I’m not very skilful.

In fact, the moments most find awkward I find very blissful.

The thing is I love Italian food and sweet Chilean wine and to be honest that’s probably why my sugars are giving me problems all the time.

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I don’t like me

I don’t like me

Two days ago my therapist asked me, kind of out of the blue, what I wanted from therapy.

It was towards the end of our session and didn’t have really anything to do with the bulk of our conversation had to do it that day. It really caught me offguard and I could only think of one thing to say.

“I would like to one day get to a place where I like me.”

I think the kind of sums it up.

I have lived a life of disappointment and I guess I just want to be OK with that.

yeah–

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, even as distracted and attention deficted as they are. I truly do appreciate it and I hope you got something out of it wether it be good or bad. If it is so bad you have a need to let me know feel free to send you angered words to TheDepartmemtOfComplaints@gmail.com

As always it is very important to me that this particular blog does not comes across as a editorial of any kind and for it to be more of a stream of consciousness and as such there is zero editing if mistakes are made they are left for your enjoyment, or torture as it were.

Ketamine and Loneliness

So I’m starting another medical experiment trial this time it is using a genetically modified form of ketamine. Apparently this new pharmaceutical company has removed the things in it that result in the paralytic effects and this is the second double blind trial on the new drug. It’s not a lot of pay for this trial however my therapist and my primary care are interested to see if it works for me. The only downside is I have to drop and cleanse myself of the Abilify I’m allowed to stay on the Wellbutrin but I have to cut my dose down to about a quarter of what is now.

After my first appointment the evaluator from the pharmaceutical company told the lead investigator with the main company that she didn’t want to use me as a subject because of the diabetes and the Atelophobia along with the synesthesia. I was asked to leave the room and the lead investigator, whom I love, apparently talked her into it.

So there’s that.

What else is going on… I think that loneliness is addicting and it’s weird because of how much I loath it. Like I know that I have an addictive personality, I’m not an addict, but I do have addictive tendencies. I know that because of the synesthesia different sensations parallel and connect with other sensations. So even though being so sad and depressed that you become immobile is not something I actively crave in my conscious mind, I have this weird tendency to associate it with a serotonin spikes or some other addictive quality. So kind of like an addict returning to her or his vice even though it causes them pain you still want it even though you hate it.

I hate it.

You know how sometimes a good cry can make you feel good afterwards or how disappointed you are when you can’t sneeze it’s kind of like that amplified a hundred times.

Sometimes I think we would be more successful as a species if we were void of emotion. Maybe not more successful but more geared towards survival. Maybe not.

I’m severely afraid of being a disappointment so much so that the major depressive disorder is intensified to a crippling state. Synesthesia ping-pongs me around from emotion to feeling to synapses of every kind. And the emotional ride give me anxiety so intense my heart tries to escape through my chest via a jack-Hammer style of pounding. All of it makes me so sad it hurts.

And that’s the thing or the difference between feeling sad… Or being sad and being depressed or having major depressive disorder it hurts the depression hurts and it’s not something you can explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The pain is vague and cant be explained by injury or anatomical physical history. But it is so severe… I can’t articulate it.

Also I am afraid that I am lashing out at people who are reaching out to HELP. Because I don’t want them involved I don’t want them to feel the way I feel. I don’t want them to know that I feel this way because it would be disappointing to them, I think. I don’t want anybody to feel pity on me. I don’t want someone to be sad R because I’m sad. I don’t want people to know that I am tormented by my innards, terrorized by psyche, and titillated by my loneliness.

I’m broken and a failure.

I think my most epic failure or my biggest disappointment in myself is that I don’t have a family. You see a very young Noah and a not so you young Noah desperately wanted so bad to have a wife and a bunch of kids before the age of 25 I also wanted to adopt. Well that didn’t happen and I am glad I am no more of a burden for anyone else besides those whom are already plagued by my being in their life.

I am FUBAR.

No one deserves to have to deal with me.

No one.

But I have to continue to fight for contentment! I can not let myself be all consumed and crippled by depression, anxiety, synesthesia or atelophobia.

Happiness is not an option for me. But I can continue to fight and stay content I’ll do my best to make others happy.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, even as distracted and attention deficted as they are. I truly do appreciate it and I hope you got something out of it wether it be good or bad. If it is so bad you have a need to let me know feel free to send you angered words to TheDepartmemtOfComplaints@gmail.com

As always it is very important to me that this particular blog does not comes across as a editorial of any kind and for it to be more of a stream of consciousness and as such there is zero editing if mistakes are made they are left for your enjoyment, or torture as it were.

Have a great day!

Love,

Noah

The only thing I succeed at is failing.

The only thing I succeed at is failing.

I’ve had a huge run of less than optimaly favorable experiences in the past several hours. I’ve had two producers call and tell me they are passing on Closed On Sunday’s. Had a manger at Benderspink back out of representation because he signed a more promising filmmaker and wanted to focus his energy on her. (Which great for her I would never want some one to not succeed because of me.) But dog gone it I could really use some ups, some positives, some good or even just some semblance of happy or more than depressing moments right now. I keep missing my swings and/or falling short as it worth. I don’t think I will ever amount to anything. At least that is not how things are looking nor have my entire life. People coach that failure is just a learning experience. Well I’ve learned enough! All I have left to learn and accept is that I, as in my self am a failure or the failure rather ant all the instances. Right now I’ve just come to the realization that my life’s contentment consist of the time spent between failures and that is just the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard, much less realized about myself. 

I’m doing my best to be as positive and continue to do my best. According to “P.S. I love you” I’m not supose to have any time to worry about failure! But that is not the case! I am a person and these are events but I’m at a point where I believe both are failures. I’ve always worked off and tried to help my self by telling my self that the events in my life are occurrences of failure and that I’m not the failure. But if I smell like failure, look like failure and I’m pretty sure a canibal would tell me I taste like it … I must be a duck right? If all signs point toward it and I can’t tell if it’s just another defeat or the last one shouldn’t it just be that? I suck. Maybe I deserve it for something I’m completely ignorant to. I do not fear mistakes, I’m actually quite familiar with them. However I do fear failing at life in life, I fear being known as a failure and dying as the failure I am right now. 

I know that I’m suppose to say that I can’t give up because that is a sure way to fail, that I should learn and grow from this experience. But the truth is right now, right here where my head and emotional space is I can not and do not see it. I can not see why a man my age should still be plugging along grasping at straws. Granted Im not saying I should have made it big by now. However I should have some form of traction towards success in at least one area of my life. I want a family of my own, a career I am proud of and contentment since happiness is not an option for me. Apparently all three are slowly becoming unachievable for me. Sometimes as exercise I ask people who are depressed to ask themselves why they are alive. I don’t know that I will ever do that again. Whereas it has heeled me pick my self up and move forward so many times in the past I fear what my answer would be shops I be asked right now. I don’t know if I can’t take it anymore or if I simply just don’t want to.

 I am not a mental health professional if you do need or even feel like you need help please reach out to (212) 673-3000 a free hotline if you need to talk.