The Downfall of Troy

There are a few things that roll around in my head on a daily basis. I am conflicted about life and whether or not I belong in it. When I sleep, when it is good sleep, my head doesn't do that thing. It doesn't tell me that I am all of the things that I think that I am. It doesn't worry about the things that I worry about in my waking life. And on occasion I will have a dream of someone that has caused me damage, but on the whole, my sleeping life, the part that is always unconscious, has so much more appeal. 

When I am awake, all I can think about are the faults, my faults, that play out different scenarios of things that have happened or are yet to happen. I could spend a day thinking about food, and how to get it. I could also spend a day thinking about dick, and how to get it. I am consumed by thoughts that weigh heavily on me and I am confined to 4 walls in almost every scenario. My solace is the miniscule interruptions from work responsibilities or, on the odd occasion, text messages from people who I either want to talk to or don't want to talk to. What I know for certain is that I would rather be home, in my bed, doped up and numb.

What will be will be and I should know that by now. I know that as a man, I should suck it up and stop feeling my feelings. Honestly, I can't open up. When I try, it sounds distorted or confusing. There is a part of my brain that is so heavily guarded that I can't even force myself to open it up just to get the shit out. To purge myself on paper (or screen) in order to explain who I am or what I think I am as a person. As an individual, maybe I am just a complete mess. I don't know how to communicate my needs. I don't know how to feel if I am not meeting the needs of others. I don't know how to be spontaneous and charming and giving and blessing. Who the fuck has that much in them to be so absurdly human?

 My baser instincts, like wanting food, water, or sex, don't really get me anywhere. My age and my comprehension of just how much that rolls in my head is too much. The conversations in my head just want to spill out like so:

This is what I fucking want - I want to look at naked men, without having to actually be present for them to get off. IN this world, there is only one man that I want to be around. He is on the other side of the country and for what it is worth, he hasn't given me any indication that we would ever be together. But I try, I try for him and I want to be around him all of the time. I want to absorb him and love him and feel comforted by his touch and safe in his arms. I want all of these things that I know I am not afforded, because I want them to be true...somehow, magically, as if there hasn't been an ounce of work put into nurturing, strengthening and broadening a relationship with him that has anything more to do with each other than funny quips and sexual liaisons. I love him. I think that he loves me. It could possibly be that he doesn't love me in that way though and that thought scares me to no end. And I don't want my faults and downfalls to be the reason why he chooses to keep himself where he is and why I run to the places that I go.

My brain cannot contain these emotions every day. It is exhausting. Which is why I don't belong here.