revelations

It seems that my choice of fiction always seems to correlate with all the crazy fucking bat shit in my head. When I read Memnoch the Devil, I was searching for God and found the answers I was looking for... when I was falling apart this week I was reading Lover Enshrined and learned about my addiction... and yes.. I'm still addicted to my depression and to pain. And now, I just finished reading The Lost Symbol... which relates to my search for my transformation this year.

I was told by a mentor that this year would be full of amazing trials for me. And that the year of my 28th birthday would hold many transformations... all important for me to become the self I am supposed to be...

And right now... as with many of my struggles in life, I'm dealing with love. You know.... I always used to get so pissed off that people would tell me I couldn't really love someone else until I learned to love myself.. I mean.. I love my friends and family and would do anything for them, including lay down my life... not that we are ever really put in that position... it was always easy for me to do for others before myself... so easy in fact, that doing for myself became painful...

And today I realized... they were all right. I can't love anyone else until I can love myself... because if I try and love someone now, as I am now, I will only infect them with my self loathing and self hatred and kill the good things they have inside of them. And until I can learn to not hate myself so deeply, how can I ever give anyone the love the deserve. I have been more selfish than I previously thought I had. I've been trying to force people to accept my love in an attempt to hide my self hatred.

And where did it all come from? I can't really answer that, but the thoughts have been in my head for so long, that hating myself is easier and more necessary to my life than breathing. I can't do things for myself because I'm taking away from doing for others.. and I can't really love them because I'm toxic like I am now.. and this revelation has led me to believe, what I have believed all along, that like I am now, they are better off without me in their lives...

Now recently, I made a promise to the two people who pulled me through my last melt down that I wouldn't do anything really stupid... and by really stupid I mean terminally stupid. And I won't. At least not today. It would be very cowardly for me to do that.. and why stop the punishment when I so obviously feel like I need more of it.

Today I will sit in my squalor and I will reflect on the life I have around me. I know the kind of life I'd like to lead, one where I can be happy and functioning... I'm just not sure I deserve the opportunity for that life anymore... with all the wasted things I've done and all the things I've thrown away...

and yet... with each break down comes a sacrifice... each time I choose to stay here, cheating evolution of its prize, I've had to give up something I loved.... First it was my grandfather... then it was my painting... then it was my writing... and now.... once I finally found something worth opening the depths of the bat cave for.. I have to sacrifice once more, because it's the only thing left I love that I have to give.. and no.. it's not myself.. no emergency calls to lock me up in a padded room... the only thing I have left to give up is my shattered illusion of love... and with that gone.. I sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock in a penitential prison with a life long lock awaiting a sensation from short sharp shock from a cheap chippy chopper on a big black block...