This is an old journal entry from September 2010, I thought it would be nice to share it. I was struggling with my choice to stay sober, and my mind was going all over the place. Here goes nothing.. hope you enjoy the read (please excuse typos)---->
I wish that feeling good was one of those feelings that would stick around. I wish that feeling good wasn’t so drug induced… Substance induced for that matter. This empty and deep feeling inside of me has so many definitions. There is no singular emotion in the entire lot of them. I have this piss poor attitude that seems to encroach on my positive outlook. That isn’t saying much though. I am not a very positive person. I like to tell people that I am a realistic person... That I see things for what they are instead of allowing myself to get over involved in false apprehensions. I let my weakness get the best of me and now I am suffering the consequences of my lifestyle choices. Regardless of my efforts I will always revert back to this deep and dark state of mind. This is my place. Deep and dark. Should I continue? Shall I continue to exist in this state of “misfortune”? I’m not so bad off am I? I’m sure that a lot of people look at me and think negatively upon me. They allow themselves to become accustomed to my aversion to positive interaction. Then again I give good face. I can socialize my way into just about any standard individual’s life. I can do that without ever telling the truth. Perhaps even my close friends feel a certain degree of resentment towards me for some reason or another. Isn’t that human nature? We see the people around us and become angry for whatever reason we can conjure up? What the Hell do I know about human nature though? They can have their studies and I will stick to my outlook. People are people. They can either be predicted and put inside of a little box… or they are so intense that they are erratic and spread out. I bet I am just feeling sorry for myself? I don’t fucking see it. I feel angry. I feel resentment towards so many people and so many things. When an individual has so much disgust for themselves how can anyone else come to love them? How can security, hope, harmony… Well how can any of those emotions come to exist within this pile of shit? I am an addict plan and simple. Hatred. That is a strong emotion that I can’t seem to shake. It consumes me for every angle from the inside out. Are people going to continue to put up with this? It’s no wonder some people can go crazy. It is truly not a surprise to me at all. Is that my life? Will I always feel so angry? I’d rather be dead. I would rather drown in my sorrows and cease to exist any longer. Just stop breathing and never feel anything ever again. I have never said that before. I have never been so angry or overwhelmed that I wanted for the end. I have always had a strong preference for life. I have always pushed away the thought of surrender and grasped tightly onto my fear. Fear of the loss of life… I don’t even think I care anymore. I only breathe because my body tells me to. My mother, my grandmother, my family… what the Hell should I say? If the only reason I care to be alive is to prevent hurting those around me I think that counts for something. Who can live like this though? How if the fuck can I continue to wake up every day with all of this negativity inside? They can medicate and treat a person all they want. You can cut out the pieces that make them hurt if you want. Nothing you do will ever fix that void. You can shine light in something that dark and expect everything to become translucent and clear. I can’t even love myself anymore. Maybe I used to love myself. I honestly don’t know. How will I ever be one of those people who can become involved in someone else? Ech!! The thought makes me cringe from the inside out. I am suffering from some type of disorder. Which one will it be? Will it be one simple term or a combination of different ones? Perhaps I should just check myself in now. Maybe then I can get some peace. I wonder if those places are able to find peace for the people like me? Some place cold and quite where I could be alone. No windows and no lights. That would be so ideal. When I am there I wonder what part of me I will tell them about. I wonder if I will tell them the whole story or perhaps omit certain truths in order to keep from sounding too mentally disturbed. I can’t be consistent in my emotions for anyone. I have not consistency to give. I can’t talk to anyone about the way that I am feeling without losing my place. I jump from one side to the next with no regard for the person who may be listening. Good luck figuring me out. Perhaps I should start off with the good bits and move into the dark bits. Maybe I can set them up for a wild ride. Give me the right concoction and I will tell you all kinds of truth. Can the things that you hide away on the inside consume you from the inside out? If I keep so much to myself will the secrets consume me all over again? Is it true? It that all I have? I fucking hate myself and I fucking hate you for giving me this shit. This insanity. What in the fuck am I supposed to do with this? Write angry letters to myself for the rest of my life? Letters that no one will ever read? I have no desire to share this with anyone. Yet I still watch for proper spelling. I still watch for my style of sentence structure. Maybe I hope that someone will read this. Maybe I hope that someone will find this and make me help myself. I doubt it. I don’t even care about that creative thinking. The thought of being saved is so false. It is actually disturbing to some degree. What if what we are is all that we will ever be? What if we are condemned to be ourselves forever? Even after treatment or death? Agh… What a bitch that would be. I wonder if some people are only here to fill in the spaces, as if they were created by some generic mechanism to fill in the homes and jobs that would otherwise be vacant. Do all people have a thought process or are they just auto tuned to live? How complex is life itself? I can’t imagine that anyone will ever answer any of my questions. They are too complicated. They are not relevant to the idea of sustaining life as we know it. My mother; is she my friend or is she my foe? I can’t blame anyone but myself. I created this monster within the depths of my mind.. Could you imagine what a monster like that would look like? Prehistoric if you ask me. Something so large that there is no shadow that follows. Can my mind even be that deep? Or is my self created monster drowning with me? He helped, they helped, and everything helped in this creation. Is this all that I will ever be? Is this out of my control? It doesn’t matter how loud you play the music, you are still going to have to face the reality. I have a love for my prehistoric monster though. I bet he is so… There isn’t even a word in my mind for him. Yes, him.
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