Today felt like a complete waste. On so many levels.

I woke up early, and got my life together for this morning’s interview with the casting agency. I spent an hour trekking all the way out to the east end for my 11:30 a.m. call time, and the damn thing lasted literally less ten minutes. It was so quick! Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that an interview needs to be a fucking hour-long affair like they always seem to be – especially for these entry levels jobs – but this was alarmingly short.

I met with the head of the agency. A woman named Valerie, who essentially runs the show by herself. She was really nice – especially for an acting/talent agent. If I landed the job, I would be her right-hand assistant. I’d also be the only other employee at the agency.

While the interview was short, it also felt redundant. Aside from barely asking me any questions to begin with, the ones Valerie did ask, she had already covered in our first ten-minute phone interview. We’ll see what happens. As I left the agency, Valerie told me I’d have an answer from her by today or tomorrow.

After my interview, I walked to the gym. That was also a very long journey. I ended up getting a call from Valerie soon after I settled onto my yoga mat. Once again, she was incredibly nice over the phone, but this time she was only calling to tell me that I didn’t get the job.

“I’ve decided to go with someone else who already has extensive agency experience,” Valerie explained.

Oh, well. That’s fair. To be honest, if Valerie had offered me the job, I probably would have said no anyway. I didn’t feel that great about the interview experience. Plus, I don’t have much of an interest in working in such a small world. How do you move up in a company when the only other person working with you is your boss?

Anyway, that takes care of that. Another one bites the dust, but I’m not too pressed about it. Tomorrow, I’ll reset my focus and zone in on my applications for The Toronto Film Group and the music production company positions. Let’s hope one of those will work in my favor.

I completed my gym routine in full, talking to Greg from New York City while I did my thing. Greg is 30-something. Recently, he had his first ghosting experience with a guy and he isn’t taking it very well. Obviously, I sympathize with him. The same thing has now happened to me twice. Greg and I texted about that situation for a while, in addition to a bunch of other random stuff, as I slowly dragged my ass along the treadmill.

While at the gym, I also begrudgingly made dinner plans with Bryan. I’ve got to figure out a way to end things with him. The problem is that it’s not that bad when I’m with Bryan. Like, I could actually see us being decent friends. I just have no romantic interest in him anymore.

Bryan and I had an early dinner at Wilbur Mexicana on King Street West, which was really good. The tacos, I mean. We stayed there and talked for a quite a while. For dessert, we walked to Sweet Jesus and I bought us some ice cream. We schlepped to my car after that, and I drove Bryan back to his apartment.

I could tell that Bryan was slightly pissed I didn’t want to come upstairs and spend more time with him tonight. I decided to go home to Casa Z with the car instead. This was for two reasons:

1. I work at The Store in the morning.

2. It would get me out of the city, and give me an excuse to not have to hang out with Bryan anymore.

Now that I’m going to be up at Casa Z for the rest of the week, I’m in the clear. I know that I can’t break up with Bryan over text. That’s a given. But, maybe I can call him? I don’t want to do it in person. It’s so awkward. As if you’re scheduling a time to end things, and then you just walk away after you’ve said your piece. Remember the last time I did that? How ironic that it was Lucas, another actor. Why don’t I learn? Don’t date men in the arts!

I drove home to Casa Z, and proceeded to fool around on my laptop for much longer than I should have. I feel depressed again. I feel really trapped again. As if my life is at a standstill, and I still can’t get it to start moving. I feel like I’m screaming for help, but nobody is even looking up. They can’t hear me. Or, maybe they just don’t care. I think it’s a mix of both. And the people that do care – well, that’s not the attention I want.

Logan obviously doesn’t give a shit about me. I doubt I’m even a millisecond of thought on his brain at this point, despite my pathetically desperate and blatant attempts at trying to catch his attention on social media.

Bryan cares too much. Tonight, at dinner, Bryan even questioned me about last night’s suspect social media posts.

“Do you have a lot of anger in you?” Bryan asked.

Yeah. Yeah, I fucking do. And don’t ask me about it, or I will throw this bowl of habanero salsa in your eyes.

To everyone else, I’m just that “weird guy.”

I want nothing more than to be my best, confident self. Everything comes crashing down when I get depressed, though. The cycle begins anew, and I’m sent “back to start” in my never-ending game of Trouble.

My skin was absolutely disgusting this morning. The zits were so bad, I almost didn’t want to leave the Witch Cave. I ate like a pig because I’m upset. I’m biting my nails like a crack addict. I know there’s a lot of anxiety still running through me. All of that is the same vicious cycle, though. The anxiety leads to eating, which leads to gaining weight and bad skin, which leads to more anxiety and me touching my skin, which leads to more anxiety, worse skin, nail biting, more eating, more bad skin, more weight gaining, and on, and on, and on.

It’s the same thing with Grindr. A dating app like Grindr is such a bad outlet for trying to cure loneliness. It’s all so fucking empty. There’s nothing that even slightly resembles substance on Grindr. Yet, I continue to open it up every five minutes like a crazy person, hoping that I’ll get a buzz (literally) and that my Digital Prince will be waiting for me in my inbox. Ha. Keep dreaming, Kurt! But, don’t keep checking, please. Delete that fucking app. It’s so typical of me to obsess over something, and then cut it out completely. Cold turkey.

Fortunately, my weed cut-out has been successful. Tonight, I really wanted to spark up. I thought that smoking might help to cure my boredom and general mood of desperation, but I held back. I’m glad I did. I also can’t drink this week because of my Hassle Free antibiotics, which is great. In fact, I might not even drink at Cousin Ashley’s wedding. But, that’s two weeks away. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’m nervous, though. I don’t fare too well at overly saturated, romantically themed soirees.

Tomorrow is a new day. Let’s hope it’s better than this one.

I just looked at RX’s Instagram account. Very quickly, for the first time in probably six months. RX was in New York City the weekend of my MOMENTS party. Are you fucking kidding me? If this is a higher power trying to tell me something, you’re going to need to fucking cool it. I hate New York City.

I want to take a baseball bat and smash some shit. Maybe even go full-on Tonya Harding on someone’s knees. You know, the way everyone else has taken me out at mine.

I’m very angry at the world right now. I’m angry that I’ve been put on this earth to live through what seems to be a completely futile existence.

To feel love, and have it taken away.

To have skills, but be told I’m not good enough.

To work endlessly, until I’m too old to work anymore.

To pay a constant flow of bills, and then cap it all off by fucking dying and rotting away. Just like everyone else before me, and to be forgotten along with them.

I’m not happy. Big fucking surprise there.

Goodnight xo

Last night’s “suspect” social media post, which Bryan questioned me about at dinner this evening.