September 04, 2010


It's not as strong but still there, that ache that hates myself for not just letting things go. To be very grateful for the life and soul I have left, a fear or knowledge that the drive for some sort of justice, recognition or compensation is a drive to obvilvion.

But it isn't the same as cutting my arms, shagging an idiot or getting pissed.

This voice, a face a history that told me safety depended on me not shutting up. Someone who was incapable of knowing or doing anything about what would keep me safe.

A faith
and it is a faith. That kept and keep and dispite the glowy people, voices from above and hugely powerful secret societies. That I am different and born into a situation that demands that I be even specialer. Words like 'destiny', 'prophet', and 'genius' are same as every other word. An attempt to describe something, to define something that is constantly changing. Like 'love', 'hate', 'truth' or 'shoe'.
Its okay to think like that no one has to right to say I am wrong. My psychotherapist told me.