Really tacking back to pre-9/11 entries to see where I was, mentally, back then.
Holding Everything Together I sometimes wonder why, exactly, I’m the only one I know who totally seems to have things together….why I don’t have any devestating problems….why my issues are less significant than other people’s. It all seems so improbable…that I’d make it this far without majorly fucking something up…being in a situation where things have gone totally wrong, and there are questions about whether I’d ever get out of the situation. And going back to my little advice problem (that it always seems like everyone I know is coming to me for advice, and I’m never going to them…that I’m constantly solving problems, while never wanting to burden anyone with even the tiniest thing)…. Maybe my time just hasn’t come yet? What a dreadful thought. FUD speak. But then again, I can’t foresee anything…. Confused? You bet. But then again, I’ve been shit on a fair amount. I can’t imagine dealing with Spring ’99 again. Hmm. Off in space…excuse me.
Yep. That’s pretty much me, still, even after all of my problems. I try to help other people with their problems while acting like mine aren’t there.
Was I having symptoms back then? Um, yep. You bet.
In a hall of mirrors where each mirror reflects a character trait, you see yourself as you really are.
I’m trying to hide myself as best I can? With that one, my oft-repeated mantra of “you can leave” is tougher. Every attempt you make to disguise yourself gets tougher.
Maybe that has something to do with my odd attraction to houses with a basement?
If you can’t leave, make yourself as invisible as possible.
And my initial response is to say something about how I shouldn’t worry; I’m not that interesting, anyway. (Yes, doc, I know I’m not supposed to say things like htat..)
Oh well.