320: How It Is

320: How It Is 

It’s a fucking mess right now. I keep speaking to myself. I keep turning myself against myself on several occasions. Hmm, it’s more like I’m a fucking mess right now.

What I have is good. What I have is most likely going to stay with me for the rest of my life. So why am I feeling so depressed about it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m worried that it will run away from me. Maybe I’m worried that I’ll run away from it. I have a history of running away from things when the going gets tough, but I don’t want to run away from this. This isn’t worth running away for. While my imagination has run extraordinary lengths to devise ways I would change my identity and move on and find new lives, I’ve decided that I want to live my own life. I should just live normally. But I always look for ways to spice things up, and maybe that’s why I’m retrograding.

I’m sorry for hurting you and telling you too much about me. The more I tell you, the less I have left that’s still going to be just me until it becomes us. I don’t want to say that I’ve lost my independence, because I haven’t, but I feel like I’ve lost something. My sanity? I never had one before you came. My patience? I used to be patient about everything. Maybe that’s what it is, but I can’t be sure. I can’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t even bothering me until today.

September 17 was good. Everything worked out on September 17. Mostly. What day is it today? October 5th. Everything was good until I decided to fuck myself over. It was all good until today. No, it’s still good. I’m just whining about nothing. I appreciate your concern. I’m still a fatass. I can’t change what I was chasing after a few months back was very unsolicited, not worth it and frankly, too scary to comprehend.

When I said I wanted her to go away, I meant “her” – the one that wrote 318. The part of me that’s always going to be dark and angry and moody and selfish and violent, that’s who she is. I don’t want her to stay here. I want her to leave. She’s cunning, manipulative, sickening, and whatever negative adjectives you want to give her. She is what everyone thinks I truly am. But if everyone really knew who I was, would they still want to know me? Ignorance is bliss, for the most part.

It is how it is. I’m upset. I don’t think you can heal it.


~ Serendipitous


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