i hate it when my mind starts racing and i can't make it stop. i hate it when failures, mistakes, the disappointments of life come crashing down on me, wave after wave; pounding my mind, pounding my heart, pounding my spirit; breaking me. leaving me fighting to maintain any level of hope, any amount of peace, any reason to believe the person i am can ever expect to find or deserve or create happiness and contentment while here and alive. when all i can do is plead with G-d to give me understanding, to give me peace, to explain to me why my life is what it is. of course G-d owes me nothing. but jesus, what is this? i tried. i'm fscking trying. she tried too, but eventually she gave up. i'm trying to learn from my past, but i'm not even sure i can figure out what the fsck it is i'm supposed to have learned. i don't think it's supposed to be (to quote bob maplethorpe from bottle rocket) that "nobody in the world cares and nobody in the fscking world gives a sh!t". i mean, is it wrong to stop trying if you realize the low likelihood things are going to work out for you? can we play percentages?
this was pretty much an every night occurance during and after the affair. it's hell to bounce between furious anger and complete self-loathing and brokenness. i'm so glad it's much more rare these days. sometimes i look back and am amazed i managed to get through that time of my life alive.
this, too, shall pass. this, too, shall pass. repeat it until you believe it.