Saturday, June 26, 2004

Brain's a square of grass growing on petrol and chlorine

I am one of those pathetic losers who always try to analyse themselves. I can only deal with things when I understand them. I can only break patterns when I understand how they work. Half the time I never find an answer. I don't want to be a slave to my patterns. My mind is my prison and it shouldn't be one. It should grow naturally.
A lot of my problems - or at least my response to them - has been sorted by drugs. But as I mentioned before, it has never 100% sorted my anxiety problems. I suppose that is because my mind is in that track now. I try to see what makes me afraid. That's the only way I can fight it.

I have mentioned it before, but this is my fear. This is my obsession.
I can't get too happy. Because if I do, God might say, alright, enough of the fun, time for some painful growth, have some hard times for character building. And then he gives me hell.
I know that is a fucked up view of God and I don't mean to think like that... it's an obsession. I feel sorry that I have this view of my DADDY, and I don't want to have it, and I know it's false, and I know most of it is probably brought to you by OCD, Inc.. But I can't help it.

I can't deal with it anymore. I have been really happy these days, but I have noticed I have enjoyed myself with a sense of caution. Secrecy. Because if God notices - WHAM!
It's kind of like C.S. Lewis said: "I'm not afraid that I could lose my faith in God's existence... only that I could lose my faith in the goodness of his character."
I find myself begging God to spare me, protect me, protect my loved ones, and I wonder, is that cowardice?
I just feel that anymore shit will cripple me more than it will make me grow.

I wonder, should I arm my body, my mind, so that misery bounces off me, doesn't affect me?
But then, will that turn me into a hedonistic, stonehearted fair-weather friend?

Gack, sorry for the whining. I should remember that if it wasn't for God's protection, probably a lot more things would have happened to me. I should pull my chicken ass together. Honestly, bitch, stop whining!

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