Bleed. It's something I need to do. Let out your inner Jackson Pollack and spatter your blood and guts everywhere.
Looking over this blog, I notice a kind of journalistic observation, a remove from what I write about.
All I can say is that things have gone so disastrously for me for such a long time, that I often consider myself something like a space alien. You can see and hear me, but have no way of what's going on inside, which can be pure, unadulterated hell. I don't mean mentally, but in terms of the way I physically feel. I am closer to the buck instead of the hunter. It's as though you have to pee very badly, or have diarrhea, yet I have to be "normal" around people. I try as hard as I can (read: drink alcohol so you can feel good at a bar/party). I try to recover the charm I had earlier in my life.
Now I am fat and bearded, which is good because it's a way of distancing people. Feel like shit, look like shit. That should be my motto, since I've done everything I can think of to isolate myself. I've created a surrogate me, a counterfeit human being, a phony existence. I play the part just to get by.
2 comments:
hmmm...you could snap out of it, you know. I mean, the real you could talk to your alter ego about what you are trying to accomplish here.
i really have no idea what I am talking about. seems that i have conversations with people with Alzheimers all day long you start to think you understand what they are getting at. silly me. i just hate sports blogs and hope you don't go there here. Thanks.
New person. Thanx for the interest. Try going through my earlier posts and seeing that all hope is not lost. Still, nice to vitually meet you.
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