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3:48 p.m. - 2005-10-04

Misery can be a constant companion, unfortunately its like having your worst enemy bitching at you from a back seat on the longest car ride in history.

Fuck.

I couldnt even wake up without thinking about those words. Giddy anticipation for someone else when I never......EVER had been honored with such excitement. I really do feel horrible. Guilty for hating her happiness, but selfishly jealous all thr same. I hate feeling that way. It makes me feel......normal.

Like how I see the rest of the denizens with opposable thumbs and careers lashing out with emotional whips whenever they are in a funk. I have always chosen to keep those feelings inside. But when I was younger My "doc" told me to talk about how I feel would help heal me. I wouldnt feel so overwhelmed by all of it. He was partially correct. And kudos for me for remembering what a overpriced head doc said close to 20 years ago.

Sometimes through the course of the day I weigh My humanity, and ability to feel compassion for people I see. Local supermarkets hire mentally handicapped indeviduals as a kind of charitable employment. And life skills training. They sit on a break staring into space, chewing like cows and I know they wouldnt last a second in the real world alone. My first emotion is that we have weakened our race by allowing people who need constant care to strain our resources. On the same note I think if they were My children, and I indeed would love them. Stalemate, the compassion fended off the asshole in Me. One irony is even some people who are according to the laws of nature qualify as "fully functioning" yet act like they care for no one but themselves, also straining resources as they rob, cheat and steal their way. Unfair, you bet.

I collected the last 4 years tax returns like the hospital clerk asked me to. For the past 4 or 5 years I have been getting overcharged for medical care provided by the VA hospital. Because My yearly incomes those years were below the amount required to pay co-payments for care I should not have had to pay for any of My treatments. But time and again I was billed, and later docked those high premiums as My tax refund was given to the govt instead of helping me pay bills with money which I was entitled to. With these records he told me there was a slight chance I can resolve this and get those funds back. Such a reward would ensure I could pay My car insurance, and My car payments while in school. *crosses fingers*

We yell to the sky. Cry till the tears can no longer flow, and what are we hoping to get from this? An answer....someone to listen? Thinking back I cant even remmeber. So I write. I write whatever comes to My mind right then. Especially when Im hurting deep inside.

Truth is no one knows I write in a diary, or journal. I dont speak of how I feel to people. Hinting about feeling bad is as far as Ive gone. And I dont give clues either. I just find it impossible to trust people face to face. They look at me with analytical eyes judging me based on morals I dont share with any of them. How do I make anyone understand what is going on inside My head without making it sound overdramatized? Yeah, thats it he is looking for attention.

I need attention. I crave it. But not at the cost of My privacy, or integrity. My pride. Peace of mind. They dont deserve to know who I am on the inside. Anyone I have ever let in has always walked away from me when I needed them most. So how am I supposed to put faith in just another one of the drones of sociaety......tell me. You can try to explain it but you will not have an answer I will undertand, or agree to. You are just like all the rest.

My most intimate connections have been with faceless strangers I have found, or who have found me online. There is a security in not having people see me. A invisible shield of obscurity. Mysterious as it seems, it is just another self defense technique people use to defend what little sense of contro, they enjoy in their own mind. There is no firewall to the heart. No software to stop somone from invading our thoughts and dreams. You can easily fall for someone, without them knowing it and it can still be painfully real to you. Just another unreciprocated love, and no fault to the one you have fallen for. So who is to blame?

I believe there is a strength in rising from the ashes, and falling again. It isnt weakness. We have needs. To brave the fire once again with no garuntee is courage. The price for not trying again is emotional death. Sometimes we get lucky. Someone noticed us and made the time to experience part of our lives. Some just get luckier than others.

Heres to getting lucky, and not making a fool of ourselves...

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