Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Mental Floss

This is an odd time for me. It's a time when I should be regrouping my thoughts and goals and recouping what I seemed to have lost over the course of the past few weeks, but I can't. My head's just not in it. I don't know why? I wish I did. I wish I could. But I can't.
I feel awash with questions to which there are no answers, and all around me I can hear the crumbling of eggshells as they are traipsed and trampled upon by innocent bystanders not knowing how best to handle me.
I need to "Get a grip, lighten up, stop taking things so personally," they say.
But that's all I've ever known. There is no other way. At least not right now there isn't.
Why can't people understand that I am no differet than them, except that I have pronounced faults, profound feelings, underexpressed emotions, and overworked angst. Why can't they understand that I don't want to talk about things unless I want to talk about them, that not everyday is an overtly outwardly purging of why I often feel the way I feel, or that I pay someone with an unbiased ear a decent sum of money to hear my hardships, and in turn they will provide me with a month long supply of semi-happiness and fuzzy thoughts. This is how it is right now. There's no alternative way. This is it. If I can accept this part of my life as reality, then maybe some of you should consider doing the same.
I am trying my best to work through the hardships I often feel with the hope of one day becoming a productive member of a poorly functioning society, but when I am bombarded with concern and curiosity, advice and offerings of well-intended yet equally dysfunctional help, I feel I am retracing steps, not moving forward.
So do me, you, us a favor. Stop. Stop telling me to get a grip or to lighten up or to stop taking things so personally. I am trying my best on my own to do these things. I don't need people getting frustrated or disgusted with me because I hurt more than they do. Stop telling me that the way I feel is wrong or that I shouldn't think the thoughts I do, because if I weren't expressing my feelings or speaking my mind, I would be finding ulterior ways to enact them. And stop walking on fucking egg shells around me. I'm not a fucking lunatic. I'm not going to flip-the-fuck-out and take everyone within arms reach with me. When my moments hit, and rest assured, they will hit again, I will simply turn inward and beat myself to a bloody pulp.

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