‘Why’ is the question, isn’t it…In a roundabout way, I’m asking you for something. I’m asking you to give me your heart, but I’m not straight out asking you. You oughtta know that that’s what I want, or that’s what I think I want, but you continue to allow me to echo off of you. You are one solid thing: A trained counselor, and you will give me nothing else of yourself. It’s torture. From shame. From me being laid bare in front of you.

That is not fair. I want to be so attractive that you can’t help but let your heart get in the way of your job. But the more I do this, the more I see I’m not. Delusions I’ve held onto forever are deflating, I believe.

You are so much better than me, maybe. Why are you so secure in yourself? That’s what makes me love you, and that’s what makes me feel unworthy. It makes me envision men I could never be as the only men you would ever love. This could turn me out worse than how I started.

Security in other people has always intimidated me. Desperately I need them to like me. I’ve got no personal security deep down. If I’m not liked, I’m not anything. It’s those special people who are amazing, like A., that bring out the worst in me. Also sometimes the best, it’s true. I guess they bring out the real me, both the good and the bad.

I’m exactly like my mom, in that. When I act the most secure and the least in need of her, she becomes her most desperate, and starts trying to get a reaction from me. This is usually the form of insults. She’s angry at me for not approving of her, I believe that would be ‘validation.’ The poor thing…But it’s also my problem. I need the same things from people he needs. We are a couple of deeply insecure humans.

When I love something, I think I tend to need it to love me if I’m not going to feel unlovable. Constant validation is what I ask from relationships.

So why must I need people so much? I’d ask, What am I doing wrong?, if people didn’t like me. Please tell me, is what I demand of people, but I never out and say it. Is it natural to need people to like you? Need, I don’t know, but want, I’m sure. But why do I want other people to like me if I don’t like them? I have to feel liked…because What am I doing wrong? if I’m not liked? I have to feel liked, even when I’m not liking. Why do I fucking need that.

Do I need to be told I’m the most amazing person in the world? Can’t I accept that there’re some qualities about myself – qualities that I can not change – that some people will never like? Can’t I accept my own imperfections? Can’t I accept that I will not always be liked? That in some ways I am unlikeable to the average human? Can’t I accept that not everyone I like will like me? Not everyone I love will love me?

Do I so desperately want to be loved by those I love? What am I afraid of? That they will not love me? That they will love someone else more? And the emotions that come with that? That I will feel unlovable? That I will never believe that I can be loved? That I will see myself as worthless for ever more?

They might like and love someone else more than they like me. That idea hurts.

How would I view the two, then? One, my love, would then be better than me. But the other, the loved one by my love, would be way better than me. They must be amazing, so lovable. And I could only be so lucky to get their attention, even, let alone liking. And the person I loved would then be better than me too, if they could be loved by this person. But let’s say I didn’t love this person…Didn’t even like them. What would I need them to like me before?

I think that it’s because if they love who I love, and who I love loves them, then there must be something about that person that is likeable that I don’t understand…and here I am walking around thinking I’m the shit, when really I’m stupid as shit.

But let me imagine for a second that no one in the world liked me. No one even respected me. I didn’t threaten anyone. I didn’t impress anyone. I didn’t inspire attraction in anyone. What then would be my life? WELL IT WOULD BE THE THINGS I LIKE!

So could I like a person if that person didn’t like, respect, or think about me?

What qualities do I like in a person?

By the way, I think I like being liked way too much – I should not enjoy being liked quite so much.

So should I need to be liked? NO!!!! I should not, no matter by who!

Being liked should no longer be my goal in life. Rather, my goal should be to find things to like, so that I may enjoy my life without depending on others.

It’s all about needing other people.

I no longer do.

Total self-sufficiency is the target.

Find the things I enjoy. And ‘being liked,’ can not be one of them, nor can anything that depends on other people’s opinions of me. That’s how they all live, and that is how I live, now.

Part of my love for Allison must be the insecurities I see in her because if she’s insecure, then I know she can need me enough to think she likes me, or to love me.

But if I erase all that need for her to like me, would I really like her?

She’ be alright, I guess, although not so amazing as I tend to believe.

Is she funny? Because I value that in people. She can be. Does she turn me on? Somewhat. I think she could.  Does she want the same things I want? I have no idea. Do I admire her? Respect her? I definitely do.

And maybe I feel guilty after sending her those letters because I was trying to make her insecure. That is disgusting.

I have to apologize. I need to just let people be. Let her be her, not someone who’s going to like me. She can make up her own mind.

I keep going back to the deep seated attempts to make people like me. Sometimes all my actions do this. Sometimes it’s all plotted out, even when I don’t know I’m doing it. What I need is just to let people be themselves. Let them have their strengths and weaknesses, and take those as they are.

I think in the past I’ve taken people’s strengths as threats, to greater and lesser extents. Sometimes people’s strengths don’t bother. I appreciate the strengths and I let them have them. But if I feel a strength is going to make them not like me, or make me feel less than them, or somehow threatens my sense if self-worth, then I try to remove the strength of that person from them, or I try to compete and make myself better, or tell myself, for example, that I could do it if I tried.

As for weaknesses, I’ve used them as tools, either to remind people that they are not great, so that they can love me, and I can love myself…actually, just one thing, and that’s to exploit their own consciousness of their weakness in order that they don’t get a big head – that they don’t get confident and like themselves – which would make me feel worthless, because deep down I really think I am…not special, that is.

Somehow I was made to feel that I was so special, and I don’t want reality to come along and tell me differently.

I have NEVER been able to accept that I am not AMAZING; that I am not better than everyone. But I am not better than everyone.

For example, women lust for tall men. I am not tall. A tall man might come along and the girl I am with, who loves me, might lust for him more than she ever lusted for me, and she might go sleep with him, and even leave me for him. I am not as good as him in terms of the inspiration of lust, and infatuation, and maybe even love.

That is a thing I must accept.

Maybe I’m not so goo looking. Maybe friends of mine who are dorks, but have worked out, could steal the heart of the beautiful girl I want, and steal it from me, even if I had a better personality in every way. This is just animal lust, which makes love happen.

This is a thing I must accept.

Maybe there’s nothing in me that Allison finds very attractive. Maybe other people, people I don’t respect, have this quality, and she could just love them. All the while I’ve been sitting around and hoping it’s the circumstances, the age, whatever, but maybe it’s just me, and quality in me that I do nothing about. This is life. I can’t change her. I can only like her myself, and she might not like me. Neither o us can do anything about that, and life’s not fair in that way. It doesn’t care about your feelings. It just is. I will not be attractive to everyone, and I will not be attractive, necessarily, to everyone or anyone who I am attracted to, to whom I love, to whom I like, to whom I want to be with forever. Sometimes they’ll just like someone else, and it could be anyone. Even my worst nightmare.

I have to accept that.

When other people like me, I don’t have to pretend to like them. When I like other people, they don’t have to pretend to like me. And on both sides we ought to just accept it. And neither of us have to change how we act to that person, no matter how hurt we are. That is childish. This is one of the hard lessons in life we all should accept.

You can’t always get what you want. You just can’t.

Maybe I’m not that smart. Maybe there’s smarter people than me – maybe some of them are people I think are much dumber. Maybe most people are a little smarter than me.

Maybe I’m not that good looking. Maybe people with better bodies, and worse faces, are more attractive to every girl, even my own, than I am. Maybe they would leave me for him, even if I think he’s an idiot. This is a fact of life.

Maybe I have a bad body, not just an average one. Maybe that’s why I’ve gotten so little pussy, had so few girls throw themselves at me. Maybe my face isn’t all that good. Maybe it’s kind of ugly, or boring. Maybe the girls who are with me are with me because of their low self-esteem. Maybe I will never be loved, in that way.

Maybe I’ll never have a woman %100. Probably I won’t. probably few men will. But probably there are some- and maybe I’m friends with some of them, maybe I look down on them – who can, because they were born with looks I will never have.

THAT IS LIFE. I must accept it.

Maybe I have nothing special to offer with my writing. Maybe your average person would be just as good – or better than me, if they applied themselves to it. Maybe most people would.

Maybe that’s something I just have to fucking accept.

And will all of these harsh realities of life, that cut me down to size, give me a realistic perspective on myself, well then what do I have?

I HAVE the things that I like. I like cool breezes. I like summertime. I like good stories. I like sleeping. I like good food. I like cats. I like pretty pictures of people. I like funny things, like funny people. I like watching heroes destroy bad things. I like having honest, light-hearted conversations. I like getting my rocks off. I like watching animals. I like good TV. I like movies a lot. I like great music. I like being with people who are happy. I like talking with someone who’s on my level, what ever level that may be. I like beautiful people having sex with me.

Now I must accept it about Allison: She might not like me. She might like someone else at the program. She might think I’m stalking her. She might be scared of me. She might think I’m too short for her. She might think she’s too attractive for me. She might secretly want to hurt me. She might have been the coolest kid in high school, and is still the coolest kid now, and there may be something about her that is always going to be better than me, a thing that I don’t have which will now and forever – just like then – prevent me from ever having women like, or friends like that. Maybe they are the top of the top, and they are liked by everybody, and they know why they are liked, and they like each other, and they all know why they don’t like me – and maybe they even in good spirits let me spend some time with them because I like them so much – but in the end they only really like each other. They know. They know.

Maybe Hollie was basically one of those. Maybe a lot of people are, who I wanted to be like me. Maybe this is my curse.

Although it’s not a curse. It is reality. It is the sum total of what I am, and it is the sum total of what they are. And we are different from one another, and there is nothing I can do about it for the rest of my life.

And that, my friend, I really must accept in my core. And it’s ok. I will never be something else, so must accept it.

In the future, people will come to me, people like these people that are better than me, and they will tell me I’m great in some way. I must not let this convince me I am like them. They like this quality in me, and they maybe want to see if I am, at my core, like them. But I am not. I just say, ‘thank you,’ and continue on being me, knowing that I’ll never be able to make them like me.

And all the while, I can like them for their amazing qualities. But I’ll also like myself, for being me. I will get compliments. I will be asked to hang out. I may even get crazy sex events. But I will never be like them. I, in the end, will only be like myself. I will only know them on one level. I will never be part of their world, for they are all the same, in a certain way, and I am different. And I have people who are the same, in our certain way, as me. We can be friends with one another, while still liking the other kids, the other people. But we have each other. I shouldn’t let it make me so happy to be with the others. They have their thing, I have mine.

We are the dorks of this world, who want love, but can’t get it. And in my case, especially from those who I want it from the most. But why do I want it? Because they make me feel like I am them, and they are so beautiful and amazing. But I have to remember I’m not…I am not like them in the end. They have them, I have me. The End.

Last night it was nothing like that. I realized it was me who couldn’t accept that she was happier and more confident without me, and I had to bring her down to size to feel good about myself. This hurt her, and she never got angry at me for it. She just acted hurt – although acted is the operative word here, because I just assumed she was acting in some sinister conversational plan to make me feel bad – and I took it badly, and lashed out at my delusional model of her. All along it was me who was plotting out her pain…and all because I needed to feel better than her to feel better than myself.

Wow, right? What a realization for someone. I can’t believe how understanding of me people have been sometimes. What am I thinking usually? Also, it’s a shocker that she ever loved me, and for so long. What qualities do I have that would make someone love me that much? It may have been an abusive relationship and I screwed up her psyche enough that she thought she loved me. Either way, she’s recovered now, and very happy in her new life, and I’m very happy for her. Genuinely. Which I’ve got to admit is a first. For anyone, really, and especially for someone I used to resent.

What a wonderful, loveable girl she is. And now I know I’m a wonderful, loveable guy, because I love myself. I’m going to go jerk off, now.

You bitches need to make up my mind for me. You know you all’d love to fuck me, only do you so much that you’d be willing to tell me? I don’t think I have any girls right now who like me enough to be willing to do that…aside from some of the ho’s at my program…which doesn’t say much, considering that they’ve never been around…never been, for an extended period, in a room, or a waiting-room…my type-o’-dude…my type being me…me being culture and class…relatively…Anyway, it doesn’t impress me when a poor girl likes a man who talks like he’s rich…although somehow I wish I could fuck ‘em all, with multiple skinny, curved dicks, and tell ‘em all, ‘It’s alright baby…my dick is a money machine…and it comes with love…and you know…you’re my only one…”…

I mean, COME ON!…Although, news to the women…I’m poor as fuck…although my speak says, ‘chance to move up on your class…you can make it right?…I may be a fuck-up? But I’m the ticket???……..

You know you all love me….Now all I need to see you do, is sit on my DICK…and tell me you’ll will make me happy forever… … ……. And I will…make. You. The. Happiest. Woman. In. The. World.