Incense, Drugs, Therapy

I'm sporadic. I say one thing and have strong convictions about my opinion one day and by the next day or even hours later I have an entirely new conviction that's just as strong. I don't like it myself, even though I'm used to it...but no one else is (maybe except my older brother), especially those who don't know me. No duh. So...what's changed? A few things...like my divulging into my ultimate dream so soon...

It's not that I've changed my mind over it. Hell no! It's that...I don't know if I should be trying to get into it now while there's so much I need to do completely unrelated to the dream part of my ultimate dream, like education. I need to put all energy into that,  into working towards it. Not sitting in front of the laptop browsing hundreds of sites a week and viewing online stores I can't buy from and looking at pictures of people that seem otherworldly. How I'd love to seem otherworldly.

Yes. I am a pessimist. Yes, I know that's not a good thing. Yes, I know along with my strangely-rapidly-growing misanthropy, that's a dangerous combination. Not that it'll change my mind about it. No shit...

At the same time...I'm dying to express myself. The only thing I ever thought I was good at, writing, has failed me. I cannot finish a story to save my life. This hurts me...more than I can put into words, and has very well devastated me. This left me slowly, morosely glancing over at other things I had the opportunity to be good at or learn but never took up upon believing I was good at writing, which was enough for me. This included drawing and sewing, two other things that if I could only master or be good at even one...I'd be happy. Happier, anyway...which is better than now...

I know I'm only eighteen and "the world is at my fingertips" or whatever jolly good crap people spew at me...but I don't see it. I see weights on my shoulders. I am a weight on my shoulders. It's not "everyone else" I'm angry at. It's ME. I can't stand it all. I can act it off well enough, and this I do know, but as for actually being alright? No. Of course not. I'm not okay. I pray (not joking) for God to make me mute, for crying out loud. I can't stand to hear myself speak...and I'm too afraid to ask for much else...

Because if that were to come true...me becoming mute...I'd be devastated. Not because it actually happened, but because me praying for something bad to happen to me, whereas praying with all my heart and mind for something good to happen doesn't.

Now does that sound right to you?

...Right. So it's reasons like this that I'm going to therapy. I should get going to the library...but I have to call my father first.


That's what I always say...

...Whatever happens happens...