Pointless Title

I always have so much to say and am always unable to say it.

Probably for life.

Forever unknown.

I’m tired of being alone. But as I witnessed with my last relationship…

I am extremely distant and aloof. Unable to fall in love. At least for now.

All I ever feel towards women is anger. Lots of anger.

I’m usually either really hateful towards women, or completely unemotional towards them. Depending on what I’ve been thinking about lately.

Right now I am definitely in one of my spiteful, hateful moods.

Perhaps I should just wait until I’m 30 to try to find love again. Hopefully by then I’ll be more stable and have worked through more of my issues.

Or maybe I should just call it all off now, and be a dedicated Bachelor for Life.

I’m getting pissed off just writing this shit. Fuck everyone and everything.

I don’t need anyone.

The worst part of it all is having no one to point all this anger at. Just ‘life’, and ‘God’, and other such untouchable entities. My anger just sits and festers inside of me and boils in my blood. All I can do is take it out on myself. Or on everything. But even that doesn’t help enough. It’s just temporary relief.

It feels like my chest is going to explode. There’s so much pressure there. I look down at my chest and it looks normal. But there’s just so much pressure there. I could explode. I bash my chest with my fist and it doesn’t go away. It’s constant pressure. I even feel it when I sleep.

I just want to pick some random girl in the world and treat her like the greatest girl ever. Wine her, dine her, and make her fall in love with me. And then destroy her. As cruelly as possible. Take everything that she holds dear from her, and then destroy her. Leaving nothing behind but a wretched empty shell of her former self.

These are the kind of thoughts and feelings that scare me. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

This diary is my only recording of my personal feelings and thoughts. It’s the only proof that exists that I use to be such a nice guy inside. I need to make it completely public again before I go on a killing spree or kill myself and forever lock those entries from the public.

I am a facade of the person I use to be. I still act like my old self… I still do ‘the right things’… but make no mistake, I am not the person I use to be. I am just pretending now. And I’m slowly losing control.