I examine myself in the mirror. Give myself a scowl. It seems to feel more intimidating that way.
(No facial hair on the extent of my phases?)
You see you could hide behind it. I?ve tried numerous different ways of trimming. Some look more menacing then others. Even now when I see my parents I feel guilty that I haven?t shaved. Before any visit?
(swipe, swipe)
Off it goes. They want to spend time with me and love me. They want not just my pardon but my forgiveness. I?ll never be who they wanted though. Sure they had grown to love me and accept me. How lucky for me. I?m always consumed by a fear of the other shoe dropping with them. Would I be thrown out on my own again? I could not exist on my own in a full capacity. I was all spent and used up. How could it be possible to continue, knowing that every action I made caused ripples to flow directly out of me and manipulate those around me? How is it possible or should one even try to consider the wide range of effect that our actions have? Better to forget the past and move on. Leave everything off at the terminal. Better to leave my memories left behind abandoned at a travel port. Every thought I would ever have would be pivotal. Crucial to be analyzed and cross-examined. Couldn?t we ever stop this never ending stream of self-introspection?
Every action I took seemed to be like dropping pebbles into a pond. I know that when I am mean, it is highly influencing. I feel guilty and take responsibility for all those around me. I can only have a few people close to me. Too many people too many consequences. I hate that angry part of myself. Better to stay isolated. In my room. Thick blankets covering the doorways. Two space-heaters, a bed, several computers, record player, tape deck, root beer barrels, shelf of computer books, games, television, and in the remaining space wires twist in an ever expanding and increasingly complex web. This is contentment and peace for me. I must always feed my brain with more knowledge. I never seem to have enough time to master any certain skill but jump briefly into thing after thing thought and philosophy one after another after another after another... Trying to get a grasp and handle on everything.
I was always so angry. How was I affecting those around me? Was I hiding it enough?
If there was one word that I knew the exact meaning to. It was betrayal. What that place didn?t teach me about it was hammered into me by society standards after I left treatment. I was out of there, but I was wandering around like some sort of crazed experiment.
Gotta get to another meeting?
I would spend most of my time hibernating within the rooms of Anonymous meetings. Three or more a day.
(How nightmarish)
I truly wanted help and people were all over that had nothing better to do then be mean to me. I seemed unable to prevent myself from voluntarily jumping in front of stones that were meant for others and then become smacked. I still do. That?s why it?s better not to leave the house. I?m plagued by some guilt that I never did enough myself and that I turned my back for so many years.
Who knows how I?ll feel about it tomorrow. Sorting through all my memories, trying to make any sort of sense out of this constant flow of entirely meaningful information.
