Expressions of pain- I said I never would but there's always 'delete post'

a whisper of courage for an old project; possibilities I will never embrace; the warmth of creativity daring to creep out again ...and then...

Bailiffs at the door, a bitter emotion I never thought I would feel again, knowledge that in 3 months my job ends and the growing realisation I am in fact poorly equipped for what I want to do, an itch I cannot scratch, and a sense of losing everything.

what is the point.

Right here and now, I am sick of me, sick of everything else, sick of trying and failing, sick of betrayal, and hate and guilt, sick of raging at the night, sick of all of it.

Overly dramatic? But that's how I feel right now. Longing for the release of physical pain over this emotional crap, for the flow of blood that scars, leaving scars on a survivor.

tired of surviving.


ADDENDUM- JULY 7th-

Life is a funny thing. At a stroke things become less complicated and more complicated. History returns to haunt us as the present problem fades. Actions are difficult to judge under the effects of alcohol; friendship and hatred are strange bedfellows and nothing is rational. Gods I hate animosity. There is resolution, but resolution where the medicine has side effects of its own, and maybe other problems, unseen and undiagnosed, come to the surface.

The point, I think, is in the raging. But I can't rage without guilt.

These times are to be expected... They come and go.