Changing My Living Space

I needed something to change.  So, I rearranged the living room, and hooked up the xBox there, out of my  bedroom.

I like the layout.  I started playing Elden Ring again, and lasted about 1.5 hours, stopping before the hands bothered me much (though they started feeling sore).

Got the message from my doctor starting my Cymbalta usage.  It’s got me nervous.  I swear, everything my doc does hurts me.  The Shingles Vaccine was torture, and the blood draw yesterday still has my arm a bit tweaked.  So, I see so many people talking about horrific Cymbalta side effects, I’m getting anxious.

This has me missing my friends, lol.  Damn Xbox.  The connection is so much better than my shit “smart” tv, I want to keep using it, but damn.  I need to accept that they are not in my life and I am not in theirs.

Loneliness suck.  I have the first NFL game on and, of course, miss talking NFL with them.

I hope Cymbalta numbs my brain and makes me not give a shit about anyone or anything.  I’ve read a few people “complain” of that.  I hate the idea of never loving or feeling loved again, though.  

Thank God I have Big Pharma as a friend!  

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Still two more hellish nights to get through.  The house is okay until around 5pm, then it’s too hot for the AC to even dent, and too hot to open windows until after midnight.

Will I ever sleep again? Will I ever be happy?  Hell, will I ever just be okay?  Content?  Will I ever have a single friend again?

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Reddit has helped and hurt.  It hurts when others’ experiences remind me of things like how I have always struggled to have friends, that people that call me a friend never invited me or involve me in things.  It’s a common theme on the mental health thread, people that put in effort, that help others, that are told they are appreciated, yet it doesn’t go the other way.

It’s depressing to realize that was childhood through now.  No, until Covid.  I would not say the friends I made online would go out of their way to invite me in things, but I did feel accepted sometimes, and I kept busy.  I had problems with many, too, though.

Will it be better if I go numb?  I mean, I would be crying all the time.  But if I don’t care, am I worthy of friendship?  Will I care if I do not make new ones?  Will I care if my old friends never forgive me?

I think I’ll just pass through my days on auto-pilot until I die.  But my friend Big Pharma will be there for me, right?

I want to not be miserable, but I would like to be happy again.  Fuck.  Loneliness fucks with me too much.