Friday, April 12, 2013

Angry depressed ranting.

I just had the following conversation with myself, out loud:
"Do your taxes, Martha!"
"No! I don't wanna!"

You see, I'm experiencing this right now. Also this. It's a bad combination. I am managing to do the very basics to not get fired/evicted/kicked out of writers' group, but that's pretty much it. I am sure I'll get my taxes done on time because my fear of the consequences of not doing so is I'm sure greater than the dangerous emotional cocktail I have going on that's making me fail at life right now.

Oh god, I smell smoke.
And apparently I'm paranoid.
Back to it, Martha!
Shut up, they'll think you're crazy!
Seriously though, I smell smoke.
It's probably not the apartments burning down.
Shut up.

I don't know how much my current emotional state is due to brain chemistry or how much it is just the self-inflicted trials of life getting to me.

There are people who love me and care about me and I know everybody fucks up sometimes, but it doesn't seem to matter. I'll get self-abusive mentally and physically, which just makes me feel crazier and like nobody should love me or care about me because I'm just too much goddamn trouble. I feel like I should just go away. I don't mean suicide, necessarily. Mostly just social suicide. Stop talking to people on the internet or in person. Just go to work to make money to live and go home. If you don't interact with people, you can't hurt them and they can't hurt you.
Just barely exist until you don't.
I was crossing a street... yesterday? day before? I don't know anymore... and I didn't look first. It was no big deal; I knew that street almost never had traffic. But still I scolded myself for a moment until I realized that I kind of didn't care right then that I didn't die. I knew it was selfish and stupid and that I should care about the pain it would cause other people if I died; you know--those people I mentioned who love me and care about me and DO care whether or not I get hit by cars.

I still smell smoke.

I don't even know what I'm getting at, here. I've already thought several times about just erasing all of this, but now that I don't have someone dictating what I should or shouldn't say or feel, I'm going to try to get back to this being unfiltered expression because that's what this whole thing is supposed to be for.

It's really ironic; I have a mental block about keeping a journal, because I have never had a private journal remain private. Someone always feels like they have the fucking right to look in it for whatever reason. No thoughts to myfuckingself. Can't keep a journal but I'm fine making a public blog. Whatever.

I hate self righteousness.

I need a hug but I don't feel like I deserve one.

I don't smell smoke anymore. I guess someone put the fire out.

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