If you’ve been reading my blog at all, you’ll recall that I recently found 16 old diaries of mine, dating from 1984-1992. I’ve printed several excerpts here, and while I’ll keep most everything to myself, I might post a few more before putting these away in storage once again.
February 16, 1990
I’m feeling much better today. I was suffering from a tremendous hangover yesterday, worst one in at least three years. I had gone over to Carey’s with Nicole, a cute girl from Memphis I’ve been casually seeing for a little more than a month. She brought her roommate, Terri. We had a 5 liter box of wine, some gin, and some bourbon. Well, I went hard at the bourbon before turning to the wine and I just had to drink at least 3 liters of the stuff, all on an empty stomach. After awhile, we went over to Planet Earth to dance and party, and I got violently ill, so we left. I somehow made it home and passed out only to be sick all day Thursday. I puked in the morning and couldn’t get out of bed until 8 PM at least.
Today was kind of odd. I talked with Courtney and she gave me hell for Wednesday night. I then turned in a cover letter to the English graduate department. I’ve been cleared for acceptance by the UT graduate school. I hope I get accepted and get an assistantship. I was running some poems off later and heard someone say, “Scott.” A lot of people have been talking to me lately who I don’t know, so I was hoping to bullshit my way through this….
February 22, 1990
I’m feeling very unhappy these days. I’m sad and lonely and unhappy. I used to be a carefree, happy person! Now I hate everyone and everything. I had God, people, society, the huge joke of it all, myself (while I also love myself at the same time — warped dichotomy), life, eating, holidays, even sports. Everything formerly pleasurable now leaves me feeling empty. And girls! Why can’t I meet an intellectually stimulating, moderately attractive, gregarious, open minded, liberal, ambitious, non-materialistic driven, intelligent, sexually open girl who is reasonably compatible and trustworthy? Because they don’t freakin’ exist! Not here, anyway…. I almost wish I could go back to my innocent days when I didn’t know and didn’t care. I felt more content, happier. I enjoyed meaningless sex. Now I’m so sick of that! I want to be somebody, do something relevant — not just own things. I want to be a poet. Sadly, no one can deal with me because I’m so eccentric or, on my part, the vast majority of girls just don’t interest me anymore.
Two weeks ago, I read some of my poetry at the Laurel Theater. I’ll write more about it later. Two months from now, I’m reading at Davis-Kidd, a big step up. They have many published authors read there.
I think I’m starting to suffer from severe depression. You know, I was happy for years, most of my life. I haven’t been happy for a full year now. It’s been getting more severe since last June. Normally I’m a strong person, but right now I’m feeling very weak….
My parents are strongly suggesting I see a therapist again for the third time in my life. It’s odd that at the time of the greatest maturity and responsibility I’ve had so far, I seem to be sinking deeper emotionally. Indeed, while I’ve always been a bit of a cynical pessimist, I’m getting much worse. I’m don’t think I’m feeling any more bitterness or hatred than usual, but I’m getting more abrasive, critical, lonely, depressed, sad, disillusioned, etc. I feel like I’m sinking into a deep black hole I won’t be able to climb out of. And I don’t see how I can go back. Oh well.
I guess I had a flair for the dramatic. I don’t know if I should have just shared these words. After all, they’re the ramblings of a young college student who didn’t know shit about anything. Still, it’s been interesting to see where I was, where I’ve come from, what has transpired for me throughout my life. I wish I had kept my diaries more diligently….