I’m being ripped apart by circumstance. I have too many things that are no longer in my control. I wait patiently for my best efforts to be rejected because of my colorfully lame past; because of how I seem, not because of who I am. I expect to be declined the apartment, because mercy is not abundant, and chances are, my fragile life is of little fiscal concern to anyone. Without SOMEONE taking a risk on me, this whole plan will totally fail. It would be a whole different type of failure. A new personal low. Risk everything, be rewarded with rejection. Lose everything, gain only heartache and pain. I find this world to be cold and cruel, if its merciless continue thus unabated. I stand passive, in the face of bullies. I’m sad, and anxious beyond hope. Beyond reason. Lost in panic and worry. Waiting for Wednesday’s mandate to decide my fate.

Life is a strange thing. I’m never sure how things are going to go. I’ve THOUGHT, many a time, that my fate was somewhat set-to-course. HA. That was dumb, apparently. Time changes things… every second that passes some variable in the surrounding sphere changes. A permutation to the structure of the thing occurs, and it sends a ripple through worlds. I understand this concept, and thus, the chaos of random life events does not irritate me the way it had. It can be abrasive, to have a predetermined goal, or some long-term objective that was to be accomplished over the span of decades. It is damaging to one’s reality when those goals are not actualized. It causes despair.

I just don’t know how, with all the random bullshit that happens in the world, how anyone can arguably depend on anything or anyone but YOU. Perhaps a very trusted ally in life, such as a partner… I can see how strength in numbers is the better way to go. It’s very hard thing to accomplish, however. Finding “that person” is part of the random chance equation.

This is, in large part, why we will never TRULY be able to predict the weather. There are WAY too many variables for anything we have ever built or theorized be built could handle calculating them. And even if you could equate for chaos, let’s just say, how much computational rendering power are we talking about here? What’s the processing speed on a task that huge? How could this possibly work for a regular forecast, if it takes seven thousand years to calculate all the variables involved?

So, as there is no point in the exercise of prediction, I try to refrain from looking too far down the metaphorical road. I try to limit my thoughts and actions down to the day-to-day consistencies of success. What “tasks of substance or relevance” can I accomplish daily? I don’t believe in complacency. It’s a silly word that means stagnation and lethargy, and then FEELING SATISFIED WITH IT. I always push, if I can, for the next thing… whatever that ends up being. I know my limits, however. I do not go bananas with responsibility. I can’t, if I plan to stay healthy and stable.

I’m a disabled person. I KNOW for a SOLID UNDENIABLE FACT that I can’t work a full-time load. Not even close. I WILL BECOME BURNT-OUT AND GET SYMPTOMATIC. It’s happened every time, EVERY TIME, for 9 years or longer. I finally have part-time work, and disability, so, I might actually be able to have a REAL person life. Not a life dictated by the limitations of my permanent mental illness.

Mental health and stability are achievable. A cure is not. A symptom-free life is probably not going to happen. Unless you are a mild-case and can get by with mastery of the 3 keys to stability (medication, therapy, and environment). I will fight, like one does, if they want to “make their way” in the world. I desire to blaze a bath of glory and fire through the desolate heart of darkness and despair. MY HELLFIRE WILL RAIN DOWN ON THOSE WHO STAND AGAINST ME.

I really think that I’m doing a good job handling stress, considering the magnitude of what I have undertaken. I’m impressed with myself, and more so with Birdy. She not only has to hunker-down and grind under the strain of moving, but ALL the people around her are DUMPING POOP ON HER HEAD. It fucking sucks. I hate that mentality, where vulnerable people are seen as imminently exploitable. Or insecure, shy and coy is taken as inferior and weak, because most callous pricks can’t see past their own retarded personalities. Dysfunction and insanity abound in what so many of us mentally ill folk come to desire as “normal.” Most mainstream people are oblivious. People who have broken brains PAY SUPER CLOSE ATTENTION TO THEM, more often than not. This tends to make us better self-stewards. I value this about who I am. I find most other people baffling as a consequence.

As the tendency, at least for me, is to be more introspective than ignorant, I “tend” myself as a good farmer does his land. My personality is all that is really truly mine to control. My mind is powerful, but WAY crazy. That sentence makes it seem like I have some kind of super hero consciousness-altering cosmic brain-power. Which is crap. I can read Birdy’s thoughts, however. Pretty clearly, as a matter of FACT. Her emotions come through to me OVER THE PHONE. Or during periods where we are not actually communicating with each other in any way. Part of why I think it’s a good idea to keep her around.

Life is a gambler’s chance; it’s random events, colliding with other random events, and sparking an incalculable sum of additional contingent events. It’s all about chance. It’s the dare that keeps us alive. It keeps ME living, for each new day’s chaos-wheel-spin. I have the flavor of change about me, and the passage of time is just the new hot show on TV. I’m wide open to whatever comes. I’m SURE it’s going to be interesting, either way.