I quit, I give up

Para quien no entienda demasiado el inglés, en el vídeo está condensado lo que voy a escribir. Como he dicho otras veces, considero el inglés como mi tercera lengua tras el castellano y el catalán. Mi segunda lengua en lo que se refiere a expresar mis emociones y pensamientos.

So here we are, ninth day without smoking and I should be as glad as a fly, but I'm not. 

When reducing the amount of cigarettes I started having changes of moods and finally sadness and despair. Since I have quit completely it's become worse. 

I don't know if its because of those 30-40% probabilities of falling depressed in the first weeks or months after quitting smoking and even higher if you have antecedents of depression (so it says the manual to quit smoking), or it could be a side effect of the medication to help me quit (so it says in the list of side effects of the medicatión), or the extra anxiolytics I'm taking to calm down my abstinence, or the thousand negative things that I can't help thinking or feeling.

Or all together.

Well there's still another variable; the human factor.

At the beginning of the program to quit smoking, I decided to isolate myself for a while, of course not completely because a part of having to go for the groceries, I have my child half of my time and I have to pick him up from school and bring him to his training and matches of football, there I see parents but I prefer concentrate in my child's training than enter in the parents unsubstantial and boring conversations. Trying not to go out much was also a way to avoid the hundred of stimulus you find in the streets and bars and restaurants that remind you the smoking. For starts, of course, people smoking.

At that time I just started a relationship that felt marvellous, but given some time went bitter. In other situation I would have insist trying to solve our conflicts, but I was already quitting up smoking and I already promised myself that quitting up smoking was at that point my number one priority. So, I recognise, very selfishly I had to let her go.

No to long after, I don't have a clue why, I started thinking of an old love.

Totally screwed up.

Still not working, not going out much and passing half of my life alone at home, perfect grounds to get obsessed with my old love. Even after many months without exchanging a single word, my dumb head went and sent a simple message: "Hello how are things, I would like to see you". I expected an elegant "go fuck yourself" or a more elegant "I'm at the hospital with a Pneumonia" or a definitive "My dear doggy has dyed and I'm still mourning". But instead of that I got a call from her in 3 minutes and in 2 minutes decided where to have lunch together.

Needless to say how excited I was when I saw her. 

She didn't seem so.
Lunch went ok, like a pair of old friends. Then we decided to go to the cinema. 

And since then, by expressions by gestures, I realised, well, I confirmed what it was going to happen, at the most; a friendship and not only a friendship but her kind of friendship, reason why the last time we separated I decided contact 0.

I knew what it was going to happen but I still I tried  a couple of days more. 

Impossible. 

Me on my side, feeling a renewed love and desire (or so I thought).

On her side, not feeling any love or desire at all, if any time she did. Or a tiny possibility that she felt something but too deep inside, too under control, too blocked or too shredded to come out to surface for the rest or her life. Total victim of our last separation, launching reproaches like rockets, but happy enough to have a friendship, well to have a friend.

Since then, thinking of her is more or less easy to prevent during the day, if my son is with me or if I take on or two anxiolytics and fall asleep. In the night is more complicated, more difficult to conciliate the dream, and me thinking of her an hour before I fall asleep is like if someone told me a miserable, hopeless and despairing tale to sleep. Every night.

And at the end it makes some sense the title of this entry, and the song.

I quit, I give up, nothing's good enough for anybody else.

When I'm by myself, nobody else can say goodbye.

With the sad story of my life, the fact that in general I don't like people, lot's of the I can't even stand them, and the pain than involves every love you feel, I think, definitely I give up. I don't need chit chat talk, I don't get bored alone, I have a wonderful 11 year old that understands me way better than most of adults, and definitely I'm not begging for company or sex, because I don't need them. All those friends that exist when I call them, but they never call, can carry on with their busy lives, I don't need them either. Ah talking about company, loyalty and even a bit of tenderness, I have two marvellous cats. They give me much more than I give to them. And our relationship is fairly simple, they don't give me headache, heartache, anxiety, sadness, disappointments, frustrations, pain. For all that there's already the human species.

PD: Of course for my feeling against humanity, there´re some exceptions, don´t need to mention them, they know who they are.

PDII: In case anyone is diagnosing any kind of paranoia, a part of my well known TBP, is quite possible that I have one or several paranoias, and even more psychiatric disorders my brain is quite capable. But if there is one I don´t have is persecutory paranoia. That I have it quite clear, I never felt like the world is against me, rather I feel pity, mercy, compassion and shame for that world.