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Oct. 28th, 2007 08:47 pmI am fucked up.
Fucked up, and confused, and more than a little lost and depressed, and that isn't up for debate.
There are things that make me feel less fucked up. There are stories I can lose myself in and music I can block out the world with and people who never fail to make me feel better.
And because I am fucked up, and interpret things with fucked-up logic and act on things after fucked-up reasoning tells me what to do, I attach expectations and wants and needs to these things.
And because I am fucked up and egocentric, I forget these things aren't mine and these expectations and wants and needs aren't based on anything but my own fucked-upness, and I get disappointed and hypercritical and overbearing and demanding.
I don't like it. I'm working on it. My filter's broken and I don't always see the unreasonableness until after someone or something forces me to, and by then it's out there.
I'm trying. I don't expect people to put up with it; I'm floored when they do. And I appreciate it, and I hate that somehow I turn that into more demands and criticisms and bitchiness. There are a lot of things about me I hate right now.
Hate is such a strong word.
A year and a half ago, little more I think, I was depressed. Depressed and lonely and confused and fucked up, like this. And rather than working on it, than finding the cause and trying to fix it, I just sat there and waited for something to come.
And something did, there's the thing. Something came along and I was happy, for the most part. Maybe I shouldn't've been.
And fssht, there it went, and oh hey, right back where I was, somewhat worse for the wear.
I'd trade it. Given the chance right now I wouldn't blink, I'd trade it in a heartbeat for a gradual climb out of that depression and steady ground to stand on, rather than the swift-yank-up/just-as-swift-drop I got.
And even saying that...well lookee there, I'm still just sitting here not doing a thing about it.
If Rockfic had offered a free trial two years ago, I wouldn't be a member now. Things to ponder.
Fucked up, and confused, and more than a little lost and depressed, and that isn't up for debate.
There are things that make me feel less fucked up. There are stories I can lose myself in and music I can block out the world with and people who never fail to make me feel better.
And because I am fucked up, and interpret things with fucked-up logic and act on things after fucked-up reasoning tells me what to do, I attach expectations and wants and needs to these things.
And because I am fucked up and egocentric, I forget these things aren't mine and these expectations and wants and needs aren't based on anything but my own fucked-upness, and I get disappointed and hypercritical and overbearing and demanding.
I don't like it. I'm working on it. My filter's broken and I don't always see the unreasonableness until after someone or something forces me to, and by then it's out there.
I'm trying. I don't expect people to put up with it; I'm floored when they do. And I appreciate it, and I hate that somehow I turn that into more demands and criticisms and bitchiness. There are a lot of things about me I hate right now.
Hate is such a strong word.
A year and a half ago, little more I think, I was depressed. Depressed and lonely and confused and fucked up, like this. And rather than working on it, than finding the cause and trying to fix it, I just sat there and waited for something to come.
And something did, there's the thing. Something came along and I was happy, for the most part. Maybe I shouldn't've been.
And fssht, there it went, and oh hey, right back where I was, somewhat worse for the wear.
I'd trade it. Given the chance right now I wouldn't blink, I'd trade it in a heartbeat for a gradual climb out of that depression and steady ground to stand on, rather than the swift-yank-up/just-as-swift-drop I got.
And even saying that...well lookee there, I'm still just sitting here not doing a thing about it.
If Rockfic had offered a free trial two years ago, I wouldn't be a member now. Things to ponder.
