Today, I'll try to savor that. I want to be grateful, to be more aligned with a greater character.
The bright side of things.
I think want to frontload this post with some more positive news. I want to at least make an effort to let some light in.
My parents recently bought two parakeets! I'm so excited to see them! I've been going to the club a lot more recently, with mixed results, but I'm just glad to be outside again.
I got my drug test and physical done for the job, I really need this job! I hope I do well. It's a parks and rec gig, it'll be fine. At least I'll still be in Detroit. Mixed feelings, but I believe I will be okay, one day. I'm kind of dreading my birthday, still, but I think it will be fun anyways. I think I can do it.
I'm reading again! I'm creating again! I've a renewed interest in all of my favorite things... I think maybe I'm getting over that hill. Maybe.
(There was a snag with going out on Friday that has embittered my heart, but I will leave that for later.)
And I've met new people, that I welcome the presence of very much.
Here's the id.
I feel as if I want to isolate them a bit from my whole situation. It's a tad narcissistic. It's really self important.
I think it used to be more of a salve just a few months ago, to seize whatever sort of fellowship was available.
Today, I've been letting it all wash over me. Not the tender or happy things, no. I feel disgusting again. Why wasn't that enough? Why do I need to see them? What is wrong with me?
I'm not a very good friend. I don't know, maybe they're right. I hope they can forget about me.
I've been testing my circle too much. One of my dear friends has lent his ear and his time on several occasions now, and I feel just... so rotten. I've asked so much of his patience, his time. I've been trying to heed his advice. I'm trying to be better.
I remember what my friend has told me of his contention, his beliefs about rehabilitation, about accepting people as they are. He's such a bright spot in our world. I wish I could be so radiant. I wish I could feel the meaning of his words.
I've noticed my regressions through the little things. It's in the way I write.
You'll notice, that I use commas incorrectly. An Oxford Comma is meant to accent a pause or distinction between subjects, but I often don't use it that way. I like to use my commas to create emphasis in my literary voice. The way that I say things, when I'm speaking, comes through in how I write.
I think it's really loathsome. I should stop doing that. I try to understand that there are certain traits of a person's character that are better assessed by their peers than by their own self image. I try to think, maybe its better if I don't feel anything about my work.
I guess I was too shallow to see just how bitter and antisocial I really was. I've had a tendency to shut the world out when I'm feeling like this. I know that it is known quantity that I tend to abuse the Instagram story feature to vent about everything. I'm choosing to leave Instagram because of that. What a vice.
I think about the stuff I keep reserved to my mind. I've become psychotic. I really thought, that I was getting better. I'm not. I'm getting worse every day. I need to be medicated. I sometimes think of consigning myself to an institution. I don't trust myself anymore.
I hope they forget about me. I hope they don't ever think about me, I hope they're not nostalgic for anything I've ever said or done. I hope they forget about me.
I am afraid of them now. I am terrified of them. It's no longer just, that I'm nervous about seeing them. It's that I can't see them. I will not inquire anymore. I'm probably going to betray myself and do that anyways.
He told me he might be back soon and I just... I can't do this. I see them in the distance in my head, and I just hope that I can run away, as fast as I can. I don't want them to see me, I don't want them to think about me anymore.
I don't think I can do this through my own strengths. I need to be medicated. I need to try to use that referral, for a psychiatrist. I think if I can get anti-psychotics, I'll be able forget. I'll be able to dissappear from their lives, this nightmare will be over. I hope they hate me. It is my hope, that they don't really want to see me. It is my hope, that they don't like me at all. It would be so much easier if that were true.
I don't feel ugly until I think about them. And then it happens. Again, and again, and again.
I had an argument with my sister. I don't think it matters what was actually said, what actually happened. I've failed my family, in many ways they likely don't even know. They think I hate them. They think I don't want to be around them. They didn't understand. It doesn't matter if I ever thought I was right, if I was wronged. I've become a proper villain. I can't go home right now. I would walk through the door as I have been for months. I'll return as nothing. I will have nothing to give. I'll have nothing to say.
I'll end it here. Maybe I'll talk next time about my body image problems. That might make a good read, who knows?
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