…You Know You‘re Fu*ked.
—At This Moment, I‘m Writing Just To Watch Myself Write.
I‘ve Slept Less Than 35–Hours In The Past 10–Nights COMBINED.
I‘m Irritable.
I‘m Sullen And Moody.
I‘ve Lost 15–LBS In That 10–Day Span.
I Don‘t Understand Why I Let Myself Get This Depressed.
I Know I Do It To Myself.
It‘s My Own Fault.
But, I‘M Not My Own Fault.
I Know That.
I Never Have Been.
I Was Created And Shaped By Events In My Life That Have Seriously Fu*ked-Me–Up.
Why Can‘t I Shake This?
Why Does The Past Still Cling To Me Like The Stench Of Death?
It Haunts My Day–To–Day Existence.
I Know Why.
BECAUSE I LET IT.
Period.
MY BAD.
It‘s These Memories.
I Can‘t Handle Them As Well As I‘d Like To.
As Well As I SHOULD.
It‘s Honestly Maddening.
It‘s Hard.
It‘s So Very VERY Hard.
I Go From Day To Day Seeing No Benefit From It All.
I‘ve…
…Sheesh…
…I‘ve Become My Own Worst Enemy.
Just As I Was Always TOLD I Would Be.
Just As I Always KNEW I Would Be.
It Happens To Us All At Some Point, Sure.
It’s Life.
It‘s LIVING Life.
My Moments Of Weakness And Horror Come To Me Like Flashes.
As Images.
Images A Person Should Never See.
No One.
The Thoughts Linger.
The Ill–Feelings They Cause Linger Longer.
Am I Having An Identity Crisis?
Whatever It Is, It‘s Hanging On Way Way WAY Tooo Long.
Talking To People Is Becoming More And MORE Difficult.
There Are A Couple Key People I‘d Love To Talk To.
They Just Don‘t Want To Talk To Me.
Sometimes, I Break Down And Simply MUST Talk To Someone.
Those Are The Moments When I‘m Feeling My Worst.
When I Know Something‘s Wrong Inside, And I Need To Make An Outside Connection Before I Snap.
I Feel The Worst, Though, When I Do Have To Ask For Help.
But, At The Point I Start Talking, I‘m Already Scraping The Bottom Of The Barrel For The Oxygen I Need To Survive.
I Am.
It Gets Hard To Breathe.
I Start Feeling Sorry For Myself.
I Lose Personal Control.
I Become Someone Else.
Someone I Truly Am NOT.
A Whining…
…Crying…
…Sniveling…
…Used–To–Be.
I Know I’m Only 30‘ish‘ish.
Some Attempt To Push Upon Me That I‘m Still Far Too Young To Deal With Shit As I Do.
But, Everyone‘s Different…
…Correct???
Everyone‘s Got Their Own Stopping And Starting Point.
Their Own Breaking Point.
I Guess Mine Was Just A Bit Earlier In Life Than Some Others.
I Know I Don‘t Have It That Bad.
It‘s Not Like Someone Close To Me Has Died, Or Is Dying.
It‘s Simply The Past.
A Past I‘ve Yet To Beat.
A Past I‘ve Yet To Escape From.
A Past I‘ve Yet To Come To Terms With.
A Past I‘ve Yet To Let Go Of And Move On From.
And It‘s Destroying My Present.
I Guess Some Of This Is Normal, Right?
Thinking Of It All Has Just Brought Me Down So Much.
I Just Feel Very Alone, At Times.
But, I Do Understand That Life Could Be Much Worse.
Sadly…
…My Once Remarked–Upon Eyes Are Heavy, Dark, And Tired.
My Hopeful Outlook Has Turned Bleak.
Yet, Despite It All, I Survive.
MAYBE It All Has Made Me Stronger In Some Ways?
But, At What Personal Cost?
With Age And Experience Has Also Come Fear…
…Hate…
…Despair.
Where I Once Felt Love, I Now Feel Bitterness.
Where I Once Felt Alive, I Now Feel Drained.
Where I Once Cared About Life, I Now Resent It.
So Sad, Yet, So True.
It Just Pisses Me Off To No Extent.
When Wonderful Memories Become Jaded With Time.
I Swear, It Literally Makes Me Sick.
What I Wouldn‘t Give For A Moment‘s Peace.
A Clear Mind.
A Quiet Mind.
I Know I Have Some Amazing Moments Stored In My Brain–Case.
I‘ve Just Become To Bitter To See Them.
*** ***
PLEASE, My Peeps…
…Don‘t Be Alarmed By Anything I‘ve Said.
It‘s Just A Downer Moment For Me, And I‘m Allowing You To Experience It With Me.
I Guess I Just Wanted To Vent A Bit, As I Often Do When I Get Like This.
As I‘ve Said To Y‘all Before…
…Sometimes, It‘s Not Just The BEST Therapy…
…It‘s The ONLY Therapy.
Right???
RIGHT!!!—
"You Jivin' Me, Turkey?" 