Bradford was a mindfuck. Relationships still suck. If she can't handle my anger -- regardless of the fact if it was justified or not -- it just won't work. i didn't throw things. i didn't scream. i didn't make threats. i didn't call names. i just said i was angry. and everything my irrational mind is telling me says 'humans still suck, don't bother with them. period.' but i have to keep an open mind. in order to get a new card, i would have to report it stolen. it wasn't a threat, it was a new policy. she wouldn't hear it. why didn't i see this before? she figured if she were my candyman, i would never leave her. that was before. i thought she was more reasonable this time around. i want to say i'm a fuckup, which still holds weight, but i can't think that way anymore. it leads me to bad places. i feel like i'm puppeteering a corpse. i'm pulling the strings and making me move, but i'm really just dead and nobody has noticed yet. they say fake it till you make it. i've been faking it for a long time, and whenever i reveal the truth -- that i'm really just dead -- i hurt people. i hurt them by staying in one place, not even doing anything. it can't be helped. no matter how i try, i always cause harm. i make ammends, knowing in my heart that others might owe me bigger apologies, but then am reminded that i do it for me, not them, because i'm supposed to be worth it. worth it. WORTH IT. i have thirteen years to believe that, or i'm in trouble. once i'm no longer responsible for serenity i'm in big trouble. there is a lot of terror in living i've come to realize, and a brief reprieve has made it all the more intense. the pills keep the tearing dread away, but its there, looming over me like my murderous shadow. what goes on when i'm not looking? why is there never clarity without suffering? and sometimes the suffering is so great that the end product is so warped, no clarity can be achieved? it's a horrible risk, but i'm not sure which is worse. remaining the same or changing. i feel like i've changed a lot inside, but it's coming out all wrong. i'm doing it again, but this time nobody has died. yet. i'm still a corpse here. and people find it entertaining to watch my rigored limbs flail about, pretending to be alive and stable and a part of this fucked up place called earth. i'd ask god/dess why, but really, i don't think It knows. that's why we're here, to figure this shit out. and to be resigned to the fact that there might not be an answer means that there is no point. except for maybe a flash of hedonism, existence is utterly futile. enjoy the small moments, they are the only reason for living now and again. how many times has this happened before? i'm starting to see the cracks in reality, and ignoring them only makes them bigger and more challenging. i would be an awesome supervillian, but i'd have to 'quit my dayjob' in order to really make a lasting difference. then again, nobody would understand why, so there would be no point. no point in anything. small things. i can make zen smile. that makes me happy sometimes. i think i'll keep doing it. at least for a little while.
