I don't know why I am the way I am. I spend practically 50% of my day remembering shit from the first decade of my life. Maybe because I can only remember like 10 things for every 2 years of living. The things I choose to remember are horrible. It's like I'm fucking jewish or something.
I've been kind of struggling lately. Well for the past two years I guess. I used to be able to walk around spitting fire. I could assimilate my emotions into the events of my daily life. It was acceptable. It made sense. It came from my heart and it felt normal to be myself. Now it feels criminal to be myself.
When you take someone who is used to using expression to thrive, and you put them in a position where they could go to jail if they aren't literally being vague about everything that makes them feel anything.... You're going to see destruction. You're going to get what is happening to me.
I wonder why I don't have many friends. I mean, I feel like I am a friend to alot of people. I like seeing people. The few friends I do have are really good friends, but I still can't tell them my true feelings about things without practically horrifying them. OK. That's an exaggeration. I only horrify once a month. My point about friends comes down to me having to type my brain out to Space Ghost instead of sharing cookie recipes, erecting monoliths and exchanging fresh food from our gardens.
My frustration with life at this point, is probably due to the situation of my total isolation. But, I'm not stupid enough to think that if I put myself anywhere else on the planet, that my attitude would improve. In a couple of days, I will look at this entry and say, "What a fucking load of shit." What are you doing to beautify the god damned planet anyway? Nothing. Even the threads of life I weave through this computer are like wispy cotton candy strands that were too weak to make the pile. Too fragile to last near the humidity of a mouth, let alone make it inside to melt under pressure.
Sure, I'm not a total asshole, but Totality isn't known for being... total. It's pretty sick, how much hate I have inside me right now. Not this second, just this phase. People always say that you hate what you are. You eat what you are. You buy gifts for people that you want. You always want what you haven't got. You can't win for losing. How come if I don't like something thats fucked up and terrible, then I'm fucked up and terrible? That doesn't make sense. So, the whole argument about hate being bad... is based on the selectively discharged bullets of intimidation by intimation.
I have a huge heart. I want people to be content and healthy. I want my kid to take whatever the fuck she will ever need to take from me. I want my husband to be his own boss. I want my little brother to not be a fugitive. I want my mother to live forever and I want my father to stand trial. I want all of these things more than I want to take care of myself. I know this makes me damaged. I know I should strive to eat my Soilent Green, but holy hell I'm tired of not being fucking satisfied with ANYTHING. I think its because I'm not really contributing to anyone's life in a way that gives me harmony in exchange for the sacrifice... Could that be true?
Listening to music makes me right. Makes everything that I can't share literally, have meaning, and it dissolves my rigor.