Absurd

Planet Tokyo It seems I've died and gone to hell. I can't sleep. I can't read. I can't type loudly. I'm 'evil incarnate'. I'm about to be homeless. AND there is not a single location in all of Western capitalism that is worth living in: Foster mother tells of horror when she discovered ’12-year-old Afghan refugee orphan’ she cared for was a 21-year-old jihadi A woman opened her heart and her door In reality, not only was the boy in her care, Jamal, almost a decade older than she had been duped into believing, but he also had Taliban and child abuse material on his phone. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3863392/Foster-mother-discovers-12-year-old-Afghan-refugee-orphan-cared-21-year-old-jihadi.html Dead British man who was found stripped and tied to an airport bench was 'found with a slice of ham on each buttock and his genitals wedged... The mysterious death of British man Steven Allford, 51, at Malaga airport Transgender man, 19, 'refused tobacco at Tesco because staff didn’t believe his female ID belonged to him' The 'world's number one male escort' reveals what his job is REALLY like and shares the strange requests he gets from clients A 29-year-old Australian male escort living in London has taken to Reddit to allow people to ask him 'anything' they want I can't read any of this. The bizarre headlines are enough for me. Then there's politics. I can't even read that. Hillary Clinton's still trying to blame Russia, in an attempt to deflect from appalling Clinton Foundation "$12M quid-pro-quo" money-hoovering from despotic regimes and associated revelations. Daily Mail needs to quit publishing photos of Mick Jagger's head without prior warning.  How did that no-talent ugly bastard made so much money, I wonder?  It must the power of spin-doctoring. This is hell. I can't even lose myself in crap, like I normally do. All I can think is my life is absurd and my life is over.  And I don't know how to live it any longer.  I don't know how to be remotely normal any more.  I don't know how to function on any level, apart from my sort of escapist level of functioning. I'm going to have to take something for my headache. I feel really sick now. Tried sleeping. Could only lie there looking at the ceiling. Was wary of getting up in case I wake up my adversary, who's crashed out on the couch. Decided I had to get up. I couldn't take lying there any longer, with nothing but the absurdity and impossibility of my life occupying my head. Thought I'd do the right thing and wake my adversary so he could go to bed and have a decent sleep. Wouldn't budge. Mumbling something incoherent. Said he felt like throwing up. Still can't sleep. Staring at the ceiling. Churning over the things he said to me and my experience of him. Thought it was funny when he began telling me how he doesn't know me. It's not surprising: he's probably been mostly some level of drunk all these years. On the other hand, being open (and therefore vulnerable) to someone who is sort of a nice and nasty 'split personality' isn't really inviting. What was known of me was enough to bludgeon me with whenever I challenged him or displeased him, so why would he think I'd give him any more vulnerable spots to assault? Thought about how unhealthy the entire thing is, especially the need he seems to have to assault everything that I am  and everything that I'm not. Now he's taken to assaulting what he refers to as my 'world view', as if his understanding of my perception is complete, as if my thinking is written in stone, and as if his 'world view' (whatever it may be) is superior to mine, and no other valid possibilities of perception and of being may exist. So whatever I say to this person can and will be used against me. It doesn't matter what I say, do or don't do. There's always something. I'm supposed to be the 'toxic' one, but I'm not the one dredging up everything conceivable about him and his personality to argue about, in the midst of argument about a specific issue. In his eyes I have always been, and remain, the devalued object. When confronted, he denies it. But that's the way it is, even if he doesn't realise it. Went outside with the dregs of my last coffee to have a cigarette. Having whole body uncontrollable shakes. I could barely hold my coffee cup. Not sure what that's about. I'm not that cold and I don't think I'm that upset. Mostly I'm really numb emotionally. I haven't felt this degree of numb depression, apathy and incapacitation in years. I vaguely thought about gassing myself in my car. But all that soot isn't really that appealing. I thought about pawning some things. I thought about seeing my GP. I thought about a crisis line, but decided they're pointless.  Contain and act in some way is a better method of dealing with things, than procrastinating and wasting breath on strangers who cannot comprehend (entirety of experience is a solo activity) and cannot change anything. Got up to pee a number of times. Unusual for me. I was beginning to think something's wrong with my kidneys, as I don't seem to be peeing enough lately and I've been having weird back pains. But now I've got the reverse happening. LOL Brewing a coffee. Will have another cigarette with a coffee and have another shot at sleeping. Took forever to get to sleep. I've had little over 2 hours sleep. Woke up to banging. Is it day or night I ask, as I can't tell how long I've been asleep. Head back to bed, but I can't sleep. Staring at the ceiling. Mr Semi heads off. How he manages is beyond me. As I sit here writing this whole thing off, he rings me to apologise. Today, he wants to remain here and tells me he intends to stop drinking; having first put to me that he wants to continue to have 'a drink', which was obviously unacceptable to me as it's never 'a drink'. It is several, and depending on other factors, it's out of hand. How do I know he's not lying to me again, I ask. He's not, he tells me. We're sort of stuck with each other, unless we both intend on homelessness. I've suggested he find other wind-down methods, but it remains to be seen if he takes up gym, like I suggested. I've previously suggested we move to Russia, but he's not interested in that ... even though I promised him cheap vodka. I don't know what I'm doing. I just wish I was in Russia, where everything would be new and novel. What I don't understand is why he doesn't wish he was in Russia, too, and why he's not fed up of everything like I am.