FUCK

I can't tell people how I'm doing. Or I could, but I choose not to. Because I don't think they want to know. Because I don't want them feeling uncomfortable and obligated to fix me.

It's been a rough week. Oh, I should probably post my other posts. I wrote them, but didn't feel like finishing them.

There is so much darkness. There's lots of light too. More light than darkness. But the dark cycles still happen.

I'm like a baby or a kitten with them. helpless, uncomprehending, searching for meaning.

I sit and I feel. And feel and feel.

Friday I began watching myself. Something a teacher had suggested: pay attention to what your prayers are, because we have three main categories of prayers; things we love, things we hate, things we fear.

Prayer meaning that which we visualise and charge with emotion, in this case. This doesn't have to get esoteric though. In fact it can't, for my purposes. It needs to be very simple and obvious and in front of my face. Or I won't understand it.

I look, and I see: the voices in my head, the dark, dark voices, when I am inside, telling me I'm not good enough. Whenever I do something I've deemed 'wrong' they start screaming. "idiot. failure. look at what you've done. Look at what you've failed to do. Look how bad you are. Now something bad is going to happen. It's coming. You better try and fix it. Oh, you failed at that to. Well you better say you're sorry."

on and on, echoing daemons in my head. But I am watching them now, and they are loosing their power, as I see what I had not seen before. Their action, in the past, was all behind the scenes, whispering in my ear so I thought it was my own voice, or the voice of god.

I don't know who's voice it is, I don't disown it, but I see what happens when I listen and believe those voices. It hurts, and nothing good happens.

Action is fundamentally neutral. Like a knife, it is a tool, it is power, and what it creates can be positive or negative, based off of the wielders intent.

Sigh. This is what happened with the other posts. I don't have anything I want to say. I don't want to talk. I just want to sit here with the pain.

I'm probably not going to finish this either. it all just leads back to feeling this god damn fucking painful shit.

It's so confusing.

I'm afraid to let go of my pain. I'm afraid of it going away. It's like a spider that you can see: you really, really don't want to let it out of your sight, because if you do, it will scurry away somewhere, and maybe get close enough to bite you. You want to keep it in your vision as you feel around for something to smack it with, or a glass to catching it with, and transport it outside.

I really, really wonder if I am actually doing what I hope I'm doing, staying with these emotions rather than doing stuff to distract myself from them.

I have been told that I should be active. I know I'll feel better if I am.

but I don't want to feel better, because I'm afraid the fear and pain and self-hate will stay and fester, beneath the surface, just waiting for a day when things aren't so nice. And even if I keep it neutral, the fact remains that I am afraid to die, ashamed to die, because I still feel I am not living a worthy life. a meaningful life. I will die, and it will mean nothing.

[addendum: another one taken from the cobbwebbed drafts folder and finally edited and posted.]