Saturday, July 30, 2011

What is the meaning of the individual in the face of the infinity?

If there were another me, in another world, would I have anything to say?

Do I have any sort of advice or experience to speak of? Do I have the clarity and wisdom of distance? If there is another me with the same struggles and the same successes, what could there possibly be to say?

What is actually different?

Isn't it enough just to know?

Know that I am not alone?
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Friday, July 1, 2011

Fuck Fridays

I get in these moods sometimes, and I'll simply call them moods to degrade them and to give myself more credit than I possibly deserve. I get in these moods and I can't lie and I speak in a flatter tone and I swear more often and I roll my eyes a lot. I grow passively more angry at the world to punish it for giving me less reason to love it.

It starts small. I'll use "fuck" more often. "This fucking cabinet." "My fucking shoes." "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Until suddenly, in my head, I'm launching into whole diatribes about the lack of significance of some completely mundane object. "I hate the fucking post-it's with a passion! Look at these stupid notes with their stupid colors. I DESPISE the neon fucking post-its!! Everything about them! The size! The height! The shade! I can't wait to finish them so I can get an entirely new set."

In these moods I can think of no other term than "maladjusted."

This is a bigger problem now that I work with counselors. I feel this pressure to be more self-aware and functional and happy and process everything in due course. When really I just want to have a bitch and complain session. I want to rant and rave about the government and the presidential candidates and religion and my lack of faith. I want to list the million small things wrong with my day: I lost an earring, my new shoes hurt, my mom's facebook got hacked and keeps showing porn, I've been craving sex for weeks but somehow, at the same time, haven't been able to muster the mood for it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm pretty much an adult now. And this is just my train of thought. I do my best to not express all of this, and while I'm not always 100% successful, I try really hard to not take it out on anyone.

But these moods? Sometime I worry they aren't just moods. Maybe it's just a character flaw. Or a way of life.
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