Always 3'o'clock in the morning of my mind

The thing is, for the past few days, I've been punishing myself in my dreams.

Every night, I revisit something horrible I've done to someone who didn't deserve it. And I feel guilty, inhuman, indecent. I'm struck with this heaviness that only comes from being a shitty person, someone filled with pure evil. Then I wake up, feel like killing myself, and have a shit.ty day. This has been going on for the past 3 days. They don't even feel like 3 separate days, really. Just a really long continuation of misery with no breaks for sleeping and eating.

I never forgive. Never. I don't forget, either. My system of memory is relentless. I hold onto every single injustice, every single stupid jab that every passing person has inflicted on me. And I take it, stab myself with it, and pour acid and salt all over the wounds. Somehow, masochism works for me. I wish it didn't.

I will always be a self-hating person. No amount of therapy or love will change that. It's easier for me if I accept it and look for other ways of filling the void, like sex. Sex is good. Sex fools me at least for a few minutes, and I can think I'm normal and it feels derivative, unremarkable, that I am having sex. This is what everyone does. Then it's over and I have to punish myself all over again.

Classes are a haze, so are the students who are in my section this semester. I don't remember anyone's name, I just point to the few people whose hands perk up every time I ask a stupid, esoteric question. There is this one kid, a blonde, a very Swedish looking boy, who has this metaphysical take on everything I say. He brought me a red apple and said something cute today, but I was too depressed to actually enjoy it and I ended up throwing it away. But still, work goes on. Teaching goes on. Memorizing rote lines goes on.

Last night, I dreamt that I was taking my life and living it in every pedestrian way, and somebody yelled "Cut!" from above. I started to laugh, because it all made crystal-clear sense to me now. How every emotion and violence and depth I've felt has been a farce, nothing more than exaggeration of my senses, purely manipulated for dramatic effect, editorially enhanced. It made sense! Of course people didn't live this way. This has been just a bad movie. Then I woke up and it was still filming.

It's almost 3 am here, freezing. I have two sweaters on, but still my body isn't capable of generating enough warmth to keep me comfortable. I haven't eaten for two days.

It's never warm enough.