As every day rolls by, like a gigantic, ugly boulder headed directly toward the fragile tower of cards that is my life's balance, I really start to want to just laugh. Just real good, like one of those sudden laughs in the movies with just a little too much spirit and that lasts just a little (or a lot) past the point of being awkward and creepy. It's like a bad joke. Like... you know, this isn't *really* my life, this is just a silly gag show. Look, there's the camera over there, right behind the flower pot I never remembered buying. Hah, I knew it!

But no, schizophrenia, there is no camera. Nobody's even watching. If they were, they'd probably be really, really, bored. There isn't a punchline and there's no moral to the story. This is the real deal. Just me wasting life that I say I don't care about anyway, when I kind of actually do in an on-and-off sort of way. Just serial failures--and the /only/ true failures nonetheless, those being the failures to try. You ever heard that one?

Sometimes I wonder how many brilliant people out there could have given all the famous over-achievers a run for their intellectual money, if only they had worked up the willpower to not be a parasitic, mega-introverted failure. I'm using the word parasitic kind of lightly here, because really, those parasites are just smalltime; they're only sucking the blood of another, much fatter parasite. And if you think enough and humbly enough, nobody's a parasite anyway... really just a catalyst for exchange of one thing or another. But that's beside the point.

So time goes by and I continue to play that old guessing game: the one that goes, "how #######5 do things have to become before I'm willing to do something about it? Answer after a brief word from our sponsors." And I have to keep topping myself, so that now I have about enough faith in my abilities to envision my lonely passing next to some creek off of a suburban roadside when it was like minus ten out, but I would have felt much too guilty and trashy to steal a nice sleeping bag from the local wal-mart, and a little grossed out at the possibility of meeting another human being should I try squatting in some abandoned building. Yes, rest in peace. That's a death for a queen--the kind where you die.

Hey, I hope you don't mind me reading. I found what you wrote really interesting. Some of it I can relate to, some of it I can't. Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading it.

Can I add: "me too" to flowingtears post.
You have so much to give.
On reading your blog I feel your feelings. I'm sorry you are carrying so much pain. Life can be brutal to us.
Hugs