I have started to notice a trend, for the most part I am more or less OK, trudging along and managing fine, but occasionally I get my hopes up, I cheer up a little and people sometimes even comment on how happy I am and how its good to see, and then I find out just how fragile that happiness is and when it is crushed I fall so much lower than where I was before the happiness creeped in and I have to crawl back up slowly to where I was. The stronger the happiness the greater the shock and the fall from its destruction.
I gave in and gave myself a bit of a treat recently by doing something necessary I had been putting off due to money concerns, but I thought "screw it" and it put me in a good mood to finally sort it out, that mood was quickly and decisively crushed the very next day, now my mind is looking for outs again, flicking from suicide to running away to images of sharp things and I have to rebuild this fragile piece of shit I call a psyche all over again from the ever-broken crap I find lying around in here. Its like perpetually rebuilding a sailing ship from the wreck, after sinking over and over and over, at some point you end up just tying together a mass of splinters hoping its buoyant enough to keep your head above water, and guess what, it does, but a ball of rope and splinters is a far bloody cry from a sailing ship, just as whatever weak crap I am am housing my thoughts in is a far bloody cry from a functional adult mind.
I gave in and gave myself a bit of a treat recently by doing something necessary I had been putting off due to money concerns, but I thought "screw it" and it put me in a good mood to finally sort it out, that mood was quickly and decisively crushed the very next day, now my mind is looking for outs again, flicking from suicide to running away to images of sharp things and I have to rebuild this fragile piece of shit I call a psyche all over again from the ever-broken crap I find lying around in here. Its like perpetually rebuilding a sailing ship from the wreck, after sinking over and over and over, at some point you end up just tying together a mass of splinters hoping its buoyant enough to keep your head above water, and guess what, it does, but a ball of rope and splinters is a far bloody cry from a sailing ship, just as whatever weak crap I am am housing my thoughts in is a far bloody cry from a functional adult mind.
