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the darkness in the headlights.

I thought I was over this, but I guess I have no concept of restraint when it comes to inebriation… Six pack of Guinness that wasn’t started until late into the night… Felt fine up to the third bottle, but state of mind and drinking should be conducive to good feelings, or it becomes a wasted exercise in bad decisions… By the fifth bottle, arguments abounded and blackouts crept in… I hate my petty self, the liar and total bore, who can’t accept happiness without being greedy for more of something… Hurting others to hurt myself to hurt others and back again… A cyclical monotony that makes life worth faking, but offers nothing positive to motive me forward… The altered ago eats the flesh, and laughs in the face of reasonable behavior… Times like these make me feel like garbage… I have to deal with it, and deal with who I am when I can’t enjoy myself… It is moronic to make others lives miserable… A questionable orientation of predictable patterns… Do I just prefer others dislike to their appreciation?… Maybe the answer lies in the determination to create it for oneself as opposed to relying upon other opinions… To set statically against the horrible reality of too much taken for granted… Sometimes I just don’t feel any good… Is there any truth in saying that I might be dead inside?… As it seems that pain is only momentary, and feelings pass like the hands on a clock, so quickly… I question my attitude, and how it seems to me that it keeps me at a distance from people that I have come to accept… Why can I not put my feelings on the line with purpose, and why the need to be so defensive all the time?… It chills me to the cooling point of self-pity to try and understand why my flaws seem so overwhelming through my eyes… It is pointless not to just deal with the self-destructive moods that inhabit me like a curse… The determination to just get over it the best way that I can… Acceptance of those darker shades to my personality is of deeper meaning than pushing aside all conscious effort to exert control over my feelings… The ability to laugh at the meaninglessness when my emotions don’t want it to seem trivial… I need to force myself to see the world with laughter, and not let myself drown in sorrowful dark matters… The point of being is to live, and the point of living is experience the way we really are… Whether with each other or alone, we need to be comfortable with being ourselves no matter what happens, or how we seem to go about things… We are always learning whether we want to or not… So maybe trying to control the flow of information is imbecilic when it is so umbilical, and guides us through upon our own paths… Fed through what the world experiences as us, but we are not merely the pawns or puppets of some triumphant kings or things from another cosmic power… We must stack the odds in our favor one day at a time… As it is, I guess I am always growing up to be what I will become before I die, but I’ll never give up…

Thanks, khet.