Who let the dipshits out?

It must be very disheartening to be a Congressman.

You kiss millions of asses and spend millions of dollars to win a tiny office in the nation's Capitol, where you spend your years vying for power with 434 other lawmakers. You rant, rave, kiss babies, sell your soul and dodge scandals, and at the end of the day when it's time to come home and relax, you're greeted with a bunch of constituents who attend your town hall meetings and spew a bunch of bullshit from the Glenn Beck show. They yell and scream about socialism and Nazis and birth certificates until the whole world seems like it's going to collapse in a wave of paranoid schizophrenia.

And then the realization hits: You've just wasted years of your life representing a bunch of idiots who actually believe the president of the United States is endorsing a diabolical plot to kill babies and grandmas. These constituents are lacking the basic reasoning skills necessary to understand that the system we have now, where insurance companies decide whether or not you are worthy of getting health care, is more akin to "death panels" than a government option, where all people would be accepted regardless of pre-existing conditions. Oh, and don't forget rationing! As if our current system doesn't ration health care to those who can pay exorbitantly high premiums -- and leave everybody else in the cold.

I never imagined Americans could be so capable of stabbing themselves in the back.

Psychic regurgitation

Lately I've been struck with the sickening, panic-stricken feeling that I have a fundamental misunderstanding of human relationships. This is usually followed by a short period of soul-wrenching hopelessness, in which I over-analyze every attempt I've made to connect with a female. Brooding comes next, often as I speed through the city at night, cursing myself for being so obsessively introspective. Anxiety pulses through me. I feel like I'm in a dark comedy, only I'm not completely in on the joke.

What I can't conceptualize during these bouts of hazy loneliness is how anybody can possibly hang on long enough to cut through this shell I've constructed for myself. Long enough to see that I'm actually a pretty happy, outgoing person under these layers of jaded boredom. Because it's becoming increasingly hard for me to give a shit when I'm feeling like this. I desperately search for some kind of meaning, but I only find emptiness and anger boiling inside me over my own failures.

And just like that, the feeling fades away. I force it to fade away. Life is way too fucking short to feel like this.