Think I'm having a bit of a sadness spike. Getting all teary-eyed over nothing in particular. Maybe the book I've been reading?
It's kind of heavy stuff, I guess, but I think the real rub is that I look at these folks whose lowest points I'm reading about and it still seems, to me, that they're doing a helluva lot better than I am. I can't help it. Can't coerce myself into thinking otherwise.
Anyway, ahem, I reckon I'm gonna go make some refried bean burritos.
Not a single minute of my life has been normal
How the hell can you tell? I'd like to see a nice set measure for what a "normal" life even is, 'cause as far as I can tell that word holds next-to-no meaning in this context. Are your problems not normal? Are mine? I'm told there are millions out there suffering as I do, but I'm not sure where they hide themselves.
Perhaps they all find themselves in similar situations, laying low in their mother's house stuck in some nasty country town where it's too hot to relax and too threatening to go outside, and they're distracting themselves with books and booze and Netflix specials from the endless barrage of negative, self-defeating thoughts that are just about all they can think these days, hating the world and hating themselves for their place in it.
Aw hell, I'm ranting and I'm not even sure what about. I'm not even drunk yet, honest!
The above seems cringe as hell, though. Not sure why I typed all that nonsense. Believe me when I say it takes considerable willpower not to delete all or most of it, or even leave this whole dang post un-posted. But I won't, because I'm pretty sure there was something in what I was trying to say that actually made sense? Hope so.
If not, just chuck it on the pile with the rest of my shitposts. *shrug*