I made a few enemies on Facebook due to my zeal in contacting someone I knew and wanted romantically back in high school but now only tried explaining what I never could then, and by insulting two attorneys I went to high school with that I could not stand when they were teenagers and could not see past my old views about them - they unfriended me, I blocked them from seeing my page. The airhead bimbo I was once in lust for mentioned first above had blocked me from seeing her site even though I'm not the cyber-stalker accused of being by The Vintage Sugar-cube herself (Jenny, I'm so glad you're all grown up into a potty-mouthed cookie-baking whore living out in San Diego). I also probably lost another friend at Facebook from high school for calling some other woman who rejected me as being "full of myself" at Match.com a "cunt." I also have one frenemy (I almost hate using that word to describe a former friend who is now considered an enemy even if he doesn't realize or care about this fact) among my current 215 Facebook Friends, the man who got the girl in high school as his girlfriend I wanted at that time, dated her for five years, allegedly played around behind the stupid party whore's back while they dated, and then moved on after he was finished with college (and presumably finished using her).
I've seen therapists who encourage me to think positively and cast aside all that past negative baggage, but so long as I remember the past I cannot forget it (and perhaps in God's Eyes I'm not forgiving of those who hurt me one way or another back then due to this). I no longer think about suicide so much any longer, but I do not like my present circumstances and see no possibility of their changing for the better to suit me anytime soon. As of late August, I was diagnosed with High Functioning Autism on the Autism Spectrum from the Fifth Edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders by a highly-qualified local psychologist, and this clinched my two-and-a-half-year effort to qualify for Supplemental Security Income from the Social Security Administration last month. However, I would not have taken this step toward unearned income from the US Government had there been better choices in my life to accept. I remain alone and lonely in terms of any immediate family attachment or formation since my parents died at different times in 2006. I have never been married, never had a date since high school and those were only for special occasions with no romantic entanglements associated with them in any case. I fit what the Fourth Edition of the DSM called Asperger's Syndrome - a chronic social misfit with high intelligence who cannot fit into everyday life and deal with people.
I also happen to be an insufferable perfectionist sometimes, especially when it comes to the sort of woman I would accept for matrimony or about my writing work when dissatisfied with the end result. Perfectionism is a kind of insanity I believe when considering my past flirtations with the desire to be perfect and make not one tiny mistake a day, knowing that if something goes wrong (even just one thing) on any given day, the rest of my day is ruined in my mind and judgment. This year like the last two in the writing career has been limping along with little to show for what I want to become. Most of my story submissions were rejected by various publishers I sent them to, very few accepted my work and these projects only pay royalties to contributors if the books sells a sufficient number of copies (so far that hasn't happened), and one collection of novella-length stories I sent something to last December 30th just got cancelled because the publisher could not afford the costs of going to press with the anthology, but did like my story and hinted it might have been among finalists being considered for inclusion among the 4-6 final stories to appear there. Had that turned out in my favor instead of another disappointment (just not an outright rejection) it would have been my first professional paying story sale ever (netting me an estimated $504 for 16,800 words at $.03 per word.
Struggling to complete a rewrite of a book I first published in 2012, with two other of my old self-published efforts to receive the same revamping when I get around to them, writing few new stories in recent years (my most productive period being 2010-2011 during which years I wrote 20 stories in 2010 and 45 in 2011) and chomping at the bit to get other books started or revised from first drafts, I feel the futility of my would-be career ambitions sinking in more than ever. i have no strong suicidal desire, but do harbor a death wish to end my artistic and personal agonies since they never get any better. In short, I'm running out of steam trapped in my current job, making little money compared to some other jobs I had and lost (even though my position this time has room and board included) in past years. I just don't know how many more years of being a natural born loser can be endured.