Wrestling stainless steel apes

I am so inexorably tied into external factors regarding my self worth.  In spite of knowing damn well how fucking useless that is.

So easy for one negative comment about my work to send me into a tail spin. Especially when there is a suggestion behind it that a whole group of people see me in this negative fashion.

Universe knows I’ve never done well with people in groups as it is. Pfftt

I guess its easier to run someone down and flap around in histrionics than take accountability for ones own actions.

As if I didn’t doubt myself enough already. I let those words feed the insecurity beast. If I could just figure out how to stop that.

Anyone out there..

Relying on the kindness of strangers…

But if you are reading this please put in a hood word for me with the Dream King?  I’m so tired and have slept so poorly with so many tangled, mangled mostly bad dreams. 

I really could use some real rest.

Thanks whoever you are.

Becoming a storm

There are not any easy ways to describe what it feels like when it sets in.  All the symbolism, euphemisms, and metaphors in the world can not make you feel it any more than all such descriptions can make me feel how you do.  So why do I do it?  Why do I continue to try and describe it? 

I really can’t say, not that I won’t.  I just don’t know why.  It is almost a compulsion to try and pin down the convoluted turmoil inside. Try to give this formless chaos shape. 

It isn’t always so, but there are times when I can physically feel the rising of the mania, the chemistry stirring in my blood, pouring into my brain. The storm, darkness with flashes of light, booming thunder within me. It robs my sleep and broils my hormones. Every now and then its ecstatic, other times I am wracked with panic, paranoia, and pain.

Mostly regardless of the happy or sad sense of it, I feel like I want to claw my way out…out of my skin, out of my life, out of my mind. It always passes of course, but not always soon enough.