Yeah I just have too much sensitivity. I’m almost jealous of myself. I mean I am smart, yet I manage to be broke most of the time and borderline annoying to myself, so I can’t seem to make sense of the truth. I do almost expect to have things work out on their own. I don’t know how it could be any different. Sometimes you are going well, you feel positive, and then there’s something really strange or triggering that happens that sends you 10 years into the past for a moment. Then you claw your way out and feel exasperated in the end.
I heard a saying once that we fight our demons each day just to get up in the morning to fight the battle all over again.
You told me once that everyone hears voices, and I hear myself screaming in fear, trying to make sense of it. Then I look for hope, I get it, then I hold it for a while and I feel guilty being okay, not even knowing I am okay… then I try to help someone else and it feels like the energy leaves me. A spiral starts, I panic… I lose my way and I like to believe God or an Angel directs me back. Is it a crime to toil inside and burst? We all remember things people say. I am very philosophical and I don’t know that anyone can really feel what you or I feel in some ways.
My virtue is silence. I keep things in. I deliberate, I think, I listen. Sometimes I don’t make sense. I just get ‘stuck’ and then I awake in a completely different place not having seen that two hours may have passed.
There’s my thought of the day. I’m always deleting my thoughts hoping the next one will make more sense to someone. Judging my own thinking. Backtracking. Then trying to capture the feeling again. You blink and it’s gone. You get up and it changes. You’re comfortable and then you feel like you shouldn’t be. You and I are powerful words. Do you read it forwards or backwards, outwards or inwards. Can you see that I am here? Can you believe that I am who I am? Who is that? My own name. If only it would send itself, the single message to change how and who I have been into what you want.
I seem to understand guilt as my only emotion. There has to be more to me than an apologetic boy trying to make sense of my own being. I suppose it is normal. I’ve seen the same story over and over. Die to your sins, and be resurrected in the word. How many times do we do this? It’s not bad, but there has to be other stories. I came for a book. I left with … the same thing I came in with. Myself, and me, and my ( ).
I get there, and then I change. I feel a sense of pull and I move to my next set of choices. There are often 4 choices. Yes, no, both, neither. There could be a 5th: the maybe. The delay stage where I put off making the choice for a while longer. It could be a long wait, a short wait. But my goal was to make a choice. SEND