When life kicks you straight in the mommy-daddy-button, you’re probably going to keel over and sob. I mean, seriously, who stands there and takes it with a grin? Real life is dying of exposure in the taiga. Reality burns my flesh off with scathing fire fueled in the deep bowels of the evil hiding in my brain.

I’ll not be rid of him, but some form of regulation is an order. As of yet, the territorial lines between action and demeanor are hazy at best. Rationale seems like a concentrated offense, and usually always a brow furrowed deep in attempts to clear the murk of pain. I have no other place to vent my suffering, and my eyes literally ache from how oft I’ve cried. And I do mean oft.

I have to understand how I am myself.

I believe this new direction constitutes a militaristic coo deep within my nation, overthrowing one dictator and replacing him with a tyrant. What would Marcus Aurelius think? I still think we should hand the nation off to Maximus.

Russel Crowe, this comeback is dedicated to you. And Commander Peter Quincy Taggart.

I am stating it loud and clear. I am taking charge of my life and living it proudly, and for my health, and for my future and I will kick the living monkey piss out of this feeling. I will do that, then we shall have victory cake, which is “so delicious and moist.”

So, GLaDOS earns a dedication. Or at least a reference.

I’m going on from this. I am clearly useful in some capacity. I have an application in the real world. I posses skill, and loads of other great, personable, cherish-able attributes. My Mind’s Eye Theater character sheet reads:

Nature – Reluctant Self-hating Puppy Dog Faced Inebriated Nincompoop
Demeanor – Phantom -Mask’d Intellectual Roller-Coaster With Sparks and Flames Shooting Off It Going Upside-down at 90 Miles An Hour And We Just Came Off The ************** Tracks!!!!

I mean, there is likely some middle ground here. I think I need to get this negative voice, its malicious intent and other crap that goes on in the background. All the voices. The Ghost. It’s there, talking to me. It’s saying things that cause my soul to die a little as I listen. I try not too. I’m working  on a new angle.

I will probably be making incremental steps toward making my usefulness a sharp, pointed weapon. And I will poke doubters, disbelievers and other d word-ers for  their doings derogatory SQUARE IN THE EYE. Poke. Poke. POKE.

Nar.

For now, I am just letting you know that I am still kicking. Still fighting.

Not going down. So here I stand…

“The cold never bothered me anyway.”