Let it all burn

Sometimes…Well, way too often, actually, things just reach fever pitch of suckiness…And my warped little brain will pervert the beauty of the song “Hurricane” by 30 Seconds To Mars. Because it’s sung beautifully and yet in my mind, it’s just resigned anger and frustration waving the white flag.

“Crash, crash burn….let it all burn.”

That’s where I am. Nothing means anything and even if it did,my brain isn’t grasping it so what’s the point in going on? Let it all fucking burn. Hell, let me set it on fire. Oh, wait, it’s arson even if you burn your own shit. Life doesn’t let you have any fun stress relief. I think setting everything on fire and walking away would be cathartic.

Sadly, the one thing that needs to burn in order for anything to change…is me. Or at least my brain. It’s betraying me in a way that is unfathomable and I hate it. This goes so far beyond being down or stressed or sad. This is…mental consumption.

I am not coping well with life. Tiny things send me into a tailspin. I paste on the happy face and pray no one notices me ranting under my breath and swearing when deviations occur and my little brain can’t cope. I am hanging on for dear life and yet…

I.want.to.let.it.all.BURN. Guess the Papa Roach song “Burn” would certainly apply here. I sound like a pyro. If only I were. Life would be more fun.

First thing to go would be that piece of shit car R talked me into buying. I don’t care that it’s newer and sporty and shiny. I hate it. It’s not me. It runs like crap. I hate it. I would love to watch it burn.

Yeah, it’s been that kind of day. Started out bad, went wrong went more wrong, and I can’t escape my own mind so its just ass trashery.

I’m getting to the point where I am wondering if this isn’t more than one more winter depression. What if this is a delayed response to the donor walking out and it’;s taken 2 years for me to crumble under the strain?

Worse…Nothing’s been the same since I had my kid. What if the whole pregnancy experience altered my chemicals and I’m quasi psychotic now and that’s why nothing helps? Maybe I need an anti psychotic.

Grrrrr. I would love to write something happy, something hopeful, soimething good. Why can;t I just get well?






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