it’s time for me to be honest with myself.

i don’t like this life that i’m living, not now.

i don’t like this person that i’ve become.

i don’t like working on the business, i don’t like mindlessly moving other people’s stuff because they don’t want it anymore than i don’t want it.

i don’t like driving around the mountains and making plans i’m not really looking forward to

i hate everything and like everything and love nothing and i don’t know who i am anymore.

i’m starting to think that this is how most of us believe that we should feel. we are all scared of joy, of love, of happiness, because the higher the high the harder the fall.

we all know that, we all believe that, right?

or is my brain too damaged and fragile, am i too mentally ill, am i too cruel and manipulative and suicidal and manic and addicted to god knows what

am i too all of things that all of you have believed at one time or another that you don’t trust me anymore? that you don’t see me as a person? am i just a figure, just a piece of cardboard, that you judge and analyze and question and interrogate to see if i’m ok?

i’m not ok. but it’s not because i’m manic. and god knows i prefer the mania, i prefer the mental hospital (at least the second one) to whatever this newfound hell is.

today, i decide to get better. i want to set goals. i am done with the shame. i am returning back to the joy, to the love, i am choosing joy again. now and forever.

may i find my routine.

may i treat this as a holy, as a sacred obligation, because we all know it is one.

we just, so often, choose to ignore it.

for better or for worse.

no. for worse.