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15 July 2013

Ideas of self-destruction would never work. They never will. I would not straighten an iron bar by banging my head to it. Why is the gnawing sound of self-defeat so loud! In its noise, I will be deaf and will only imagine the sound of real laughter.

And what do I do? I screen suck and forget that I have to eat, that I have to cook food and that there are other things I could wallow on other than how completely free I am to do anything I wanted without knowing what it is that I wanted. The truth of job security and the necessity for employment is driving at me.

For years I’ve been living with I think. I’ve grown strong and independent with I think, too independent, cold and prideful. Now I’ve reverted to theI feel side, a trial, for a change. What have I got but discredit for using I feel and scalding insults for I think, I cannot trust either side of me and I’ve been too hurt.

Today hurt alternates as fear or arrogance. Every minute nuance triggered the emergence of meanness from me. I read somewhere that squeezed orange produces orange juice, that who we really are is what comes out when we are pressured. So what am I, like, worse than the wimpy kid? How could I detox in the literal sense where I could have the poison in my blood drained?

I want to live with a smile on my face for the humor that is in everything which I still see but cannot light my eyes up. I want to trust again, that whatever I see now would all fade away for something more glorious. I have to live day by day where the battle could be affected by me. I want to live with the belief that hey, it was not me all along. I’ve been led to a new level of helplessness and I am out of my wits about how would I be able to help others when I can’t even help myself. Utter helplessness is my surroundings now as my feet falls concertedly on the hollowness of the tiled, trite and washed out hallway.