I think i figured out my problem:

And it's a catch-22. Not simply that my problem happens to be a catch-22, but that my problem IS catch-22 (not the band... they're still my favorite). And by nature, a catch-22 is always a catch-22. Isn't that just the best kind of problem to have?
I concur.
Anyways, let me lay it out for you like this:
I am a pessimist. I do not think happy thoughts. I don't have hopes or dreams, or aspirations. And if I do, they're for bad things, or things that I convince myself aren't worth pursuing. If in the rare event that I ignore my initial warnings and pursue something worthwhile, there always, ALWAYS, without fail comes a point at which I convince myself that I cannot succeed, and often that I have already failed. In essence, what makes me unhappy is overthinking. I overthink everything; I evaluate, estimate, and predict situations precisely and constantly. And due to my nature, the end result is never good.
Example: Everytime I am in the car and another car gets too close, or a car swerves quickly, or someone slams on the brakes, or even if I just get distracted by thoughts of the speedometer, my thoughts always flash to the end result of an accident. If I was in an accident just then, what would my mangled corpse look like? I always like putting my right arm behind my head, so it is generally dislocated and frequently detached as it is crushed against the headrest by the side panel of the door. Of course, the airbag's on, so my glasses are shattered. Bits of the frames and possibly the lenses are buried in my swollen bloody face. My nose is pulverized, an indistinguishable fleshy lump on my mess of a gap-toothed face. Odds are, I bit my tongue off, or bit through a cheek. My knees probably slammed into the dash board; the patellas fibias, and tibias are crushed. My femurs are slammed backwards into my pelvis, crushing into the sockets. In short, I am dead. Blunt force trauma, implation, exsanguination. All that good stuff. It happens.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think it's considered "normal" (read: "healthy," "sane," whatever) for this to be a common or frequent occurance.
So the simple solution: Just stop thinking about it.
There's really nothing simple about it. The only simple truth as far as I'm concerned is that thought is the only undeniable truth. Life and death are often heralded as the only truths, but without thought, neither holds any weight. What is a life without consciousness? It's being an inanimate object, which are hardly alive at all. What is death without awareness? A long sleep. That's all. If we didn't think about and seek out to give everything meaning, they wouldn't have it. And that's where the catch-22 REALLY kicks in.
The way I see it, it's pretty obvious that my problem is that I think too much. So the alternative is to think less or even to stop thinking at all. But then existence is fleeting. Without utmost awareness and maximum analysis, there is NOTHING.
But of course I have to choose one over the other. There is no compromise. And I choose thought. I suffer every day. It's like living in a nightmare every moment, awake or asleep. There's nowhere to hide. No safe memories, no hopes for the future, no light at the end of the tunnel. Being an antitheist, there is nothing after this life, and as a nihilist, nothing worth living for in this life. As an absurdist, of course, I am almost obligated to choose thought. But without the prospect of fleeting feelings of happiness, I have less to look forward to than any Meursault. When I really think about it, there's not even a cause for morality. But in this society, to avoid confrontation and interaction the best way to go is unnoticed.
I guess what I'm trying to say is LEAVE ME ALONE.
I only make people miserable. Even if I seek out to create connections with people, there is a constant threat of betrayal lurking around the corner. I believe in the inherent bad nature of humans, and as a result, I always manage to sabotage any meaningful relationships.
What this means, in essence is that I will be a hermit.
It's really that simple.
I'll get a degree (or not), get a job (or not), telecommute, and live alone off of my salary (or welfare), ordering everything I need - including but not limited to groceries - off of the internet to be delivered to my house. If I'm lucky (which I rarely am), I can file for permanent disability and get a trained service animal.
I'll have cats, and the only people that I will ever see will be Daniel, Michael, and my nieces because they are the only creatures on this earth that I have the capacity to love. I will be scarred, bruised, and broken, just because it's second-nature to self-inflict pain.

And then I will die. Since I honestly just can't picture myself dying by anyone's hand but my own - nature included - it will probably happen on a slow winter day, probably about 30 years into the future. I'll go outside for the first and last time, and lay in the snow (of course there's snow where I live) and kill myself. I'm thinking a bullet to the temple. Worst case scenario, I'll die in my sleep, in which case I will rest in peace knowing that I murdered myself with by long-term alcohol- and drug-enduced poisoning. Noone will miss me, with the exception of my now-starving cats. In any event, I hope there are tears on my leather-hard face. It will have been years since I had cried, but they will be tears of joy. What could be sweeter than release after a life of inner-turmoil?
And that's my problem. If you have a solution, shove it. Seriously, I don't want to hear it. Just let me be, and noone will be hurt. If you reach out and I deny you, I take no responsibility for the hurt you suffer. It's what you get for making yourself vulnerable to another human. Maybe you'll learn from your mistakes, and everyone will come away from the situation better. Except me, I'll still be the same. Except maybe just a little bit more frustrated.

UPDATE:
This was just a one-night episode I had. I kinda freaked, for whatever reason. I still think a lot of this is true, but I just hope my predictions for the future are slightly off. Only time will tell.

It's weird, I know, but i'm talking about it again.

No, not French twin porn (by the way, they were fake twins, so you don't need to be all freaked out). Dating. It's been on my mind. I'm finally testing the water, and let me just say, it is frigid, uninviting, and mind-altering.
Truth be told, I don't really see myseld as a "casual dating" kind of person, while at the same time I'm definitely in no fit shape to be in a serious relationship. Maybe when my mood swings around and I can think about something that doesn't involve ending myself, I could have a moderately successful relationship, but who the fuck knows when that's going to be.
And all this begs another question: what the fuck to do about the date I already have?
On the one hand, I could go, but there's really only two possible outcomes: I fake like I'm not entirely hating myself and we end up having a great time and dating, only until I fuck it up because I'm to insecure. OR I could go, obviously be miserable, and the only difference would be skipping the "having a great time and dating" part.
On the other hand, I could call it off. And there's really only two ways to do that: Tell the truth. I could tell her exactly what I just said wrote, but that's really just the same as going and being miserable, minus the awkwardness and expense of the coffee/whatnot. OR I could bullshit. I don't even know what I'd say, but if I somehow convinced her that I was a normal, non-psychotic person but still didn't want to go on the date for some reason that's unselfish while simultaneously being not her fault, I'll be back at square one, with the burden of having to tell and keep up this lie I told to a girl I like a lot.
It's a lose-lose-lose-lose situation.
Honestly, I have no idea why I even have as many friends as I do, because most of the time I overthink everythin too much - which never ends well - while the rest of the time I'm just a terribly selfish, uncaring person.
Someone should kill me, and I hope it's me.

Dating Tips:

These are my awesome, foolproof tips to help you have a successful dating career:

1) Don't.

Seriously, just don't.

If you're honestly snooping around for tips to dating, then odds are it doesn't come naturally to you. It's probably "just not your thing." And that's totally cool. Most of the best ways to connect with people are not generally "date activities." Example: Just hanging out. Seriously, just chill with the girl you like and some friends - hers or yours, doesn't really matter - and just relax. Be yourself. It's a lot more comfortable than sitting down, one on one. If there's more than 2 people, odds are conversation will sorta just flow. You'll get a good feel of what the person's like just by the way they interact with people around.


If for some reason you don't like my tips and find yourself on a date, anyways, just... let me know what the fuck to do. I don't really see myself as a "date" kinda guy, so now that I've got one, I'm utterly petrified. I can almost hear the awkward silence now...

Life is cruel and unforgiving.

Oh boy. Where to begin...
I guess I'll start with the beginning:
I want to a party last night.
I was told almost immediately upon entering by "MrsClaus" (my friend, and a hostess) that her friend thought I was "really cute."
Shortly thereafter I am informed that TheFriend is not there. My feelings are hurt.
I quickly realize that there a large number of gay dudes.
I think I got felt up by a gay dude.
I got asked if I was gay. Queue drinking.
I am asked if I am gay again. Queue unhealthy binge-drink..
I tell one of the hosts of the party (a female) that she is a bitch, and as she becomes offended, I try (unsuccessfully) to convince her that it was a compliment
I leave the room pursued by the sounds of her shrieking.
I am asked if i am gay for the 5th or 6th time in the night. Queue attempted suicide by alcohol-poisoning.

The next thing I remember, TheRoommate is telling me I need to wake up, it is four, and that it smells like puke in our room.

If maybe I could just have one peaceful, successful night with a GODDAMNED WOMAN, I wouldn't do these things to myself.

I'm fully aware that this is more crude than usual, but it's SOO worth it.

I think i've discovered the best thing in the world.
Honestly.

Get this, and please, try to keep up.
IT started, one day, when bored (with life) I found myself /gif-ing. I discovered a particularly enjoyable clip of two girls making out in a tub (naked). IT was pretty awesome in of itself.
BUT IT GETS BETTER.
As to be expected in any 4chan forum, it was "sauced" and I downloaded the file, just to see more of it.
I should've expected that it would be special, because I'm really not a big fan of porn - I've honestly only ever downloaded like 2 videos before.
BUT GET THIS:
The girls: turns out they're FRENCH.
AND THEY'RE TWINS.

Throw into the mix some hardcore (best music to masturbate to, IMO) and we've got fapping GOLD.

Wednesday eve.

I don't remember last night, but thanks to Mander, i have a few select quotes.

The socialist leader on campus is reeeeally good at beer pong.If you plan to smoke weed and drink. drink first. otherwise it fucks your life up. it completely fucks your life up. it should be a drug of its own oh my gooooooooooood...heheheheheTHATS NOT A DONUT...thats a bagel. hehehe pumpernickel donut, chocolate bagel...fuck it I'm taking his danish...hehehe...You ruined me for other people. we developed around each other, and i know that sounds like a euphemism for gay but sex but its not.All girls are either bitches or whores. Bitches think their too good for me and i think im too good for the whores.did you know that you can put marijuana in anything? ANYTHING MICHAEL, ANYTHING! did you know that? i had it with spaghetti. Spaghetti with rasta sauce hahaha...these danishes are reeeeally good...Yayyyy muffins!i bit off more then i could chew, LITERALLY! hahahahaheheheheheheheheheHAHAHAHAHAHAHA thats not even funny! i dont even know why im laughing any more hehehe...i know why its funny now, i have muffin stuff on my lips and it tickles hehehehehe...i think i have muffin in my nose. i think that somehow i have muffin in my nose heheheheDont worry! there are plenty of other muffins that have not been in my nose hehehe...if i die right now because of the muffin in my sinus's, my only regret? that i died.Michael. You know what i think is wrong with the world today? Not enough disco. seriously, the world in america today would be a better place with more disco.HEY! theres like...TWO girls with dredlocks. im kinda flipping out. they're like hippies. and you know how i feel about hippies Michael. Ahh my GOD i think i just got noodles in my sinuses and hey LOOK another girl with dreadlocks.hehehehehehe im enjoy a caaaat...i dont think youve ever heard me make this sound before michael hehehehehehehehehe a KIIIIIIIIIITTY CAT heheheheheheheheread that back to me...no like five of your HUMAN EARTH SECONDS

The months of November and December thusfar.

I've been extremely busy working hard at school (read: getting drunk and playing Guitar Hero) so I haven't been around to post much. So with that information (as well as the knowledge that BOTH of my computers have been down) I leave you with these, select gems of stories from the past weeks.





November:

• I ended the quarter in the hospital! Yeah. Psych ward at Strong Memorial, because i guess attempted suicide is a frowned upon behaviour in "normal society." If they can't take a joke, fuck 'em.


• I kissed a girl. I know that doesn't seem like much (and trust me, it's not) it has some humorous value to it in that I told everyone I saw that night in excess of a dozen times. Yeah, I was drunk, and its the most action I got in a year.


• I made a successful and climactic return to San Diego. Me and the WSC (Wolves in Sheep's the picture on their website do the talking. Seriously. How can you NOT eat there? Anyways.... Prime's analysis: Exceedingly Mexican.
• I deliver the frequently promised dick-punches to Zabe and Ash.

December:

• Back in Rochester. Party the first night a get back. I "acquaint" myself with a girl. Since a gentleman does not kiss and tell (and because I actually still have a chance with her) that's all I'll say right now.
• Back to class. I won't bore you with the details.
• My infamous Friday night party spot is disbanded! Indefinitely! FUCK THE PO-LEECE!
• I drink in much honor of the party spot. I drink the beer. I flip the cup (twice, actually, because the kid standing next to me - looks a lot like Tucker Max - is a hell of a drinker, but a terrible flip-cupper). I am awesome at flipping cups. I play my signature game: Drink the beer. I win my signature game. Several minutes later, I lose my signature game... in the toilet. I play my signature game again. I drunk-dial. Here are some tasty quotes from that particular conversation:

Prime: "Labatt Blue is the pizza of beer."

Prime (to TheRoommate'sGirlfriend):
"Youareadrunkenwhoregositinthecorner!"

Prime (to TheRoommate'sGirlfriend): "The only way you are staying in my room
is if you sleep in my bed."

TRG: "OH MY GOD EWWW.... Does Optimus want me?"

• I go home. I am awesome at guitar hero. I do drunk (mostly)naked video chat with a girl and thoroughly embarass myself, reading Trotsky to her roommate and slamming the computer shut on her when she tells me that she is out of Otter Pops.

And that's the update.

I know it's not very good, but FUCKING DEAL.

Wow. It's been a while

I've been up to macking on girls.


That's all I have time to explain.

Hopefully I'll get back to posting regularly on here.