ON COMING TO KNOW — What Makes A Person *Worth* Fighting For.

Reflection from August 12th, 2013 @ Age 32


I was thinking the other day—well, maybe having an ego sometimes isn’t the worst thing in the world.  I mean, it would certainly be useful and come in handy—kind of just another tool in the toolshed you know?  Trouble is, it’s hard for me to barrier it, or measure it or control it or whatever you call it.  It’s hard to know what it’s doing or when it’s coming into play, I don’t know.  I think I am learning, don’t get me wrong—but I just feel so very far off, it feels like I’m never going to reach the shore.

I bumped my meds back up.  I haven’t been able to function because Giant Eagle won’t fill my Ritalin until like the 21st or something, and this Celexa or whatever it’s called that my psychiatrist put me on is horrible—it doesn’t give me energy at all.  It makes me tired and sleepy and sluggish and that’s what I’ve been living on alone now for like a week and it’s been horrible.  I felt suicidal last night.  I’m just a mess.  I don’t know why anyone would want to hire me—what difference does it make if I can make people feel special (to rebut Adam’s point)?  Nobody cares or gives credit for that.  I hate this world.  I wish I weren’t a part of it.  It’s so full of evil and yet I feel like an outcast on WordPress when I talk of good and evil—and yet people are mad about fucking superhero movies, so I just don’t get it.  Maybe I should actually sit down and watch these five superhero movies Andy let me borrow.  That might be a good start.  And read some books.

I just feel like my life is falling apart and I am hustling for sure, but it just makes no f’ing difference.  I know there is so much I cannot see going on behind the scenes, but God, please, I need some kind of relief.  I feel like I can’t even breathe over here.  Please grant me strength and the will to live and fight the evil on this earth.  I’m falling apart at the seams and I can’t seem to figure things out and I don’t know what to do.  Please widen my perspective so that I can figure the answer.  Please.


I feel like my writing has been hideous lately, and I feel like I’ve been hideous inside lately as well.  I feel hideous and like I’m not being honest—but sometimes it’s so hard to tell what is truth and what is not; I just get so tripped up inside and out that I don’t know what to do with myself.


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