Disenchanted

Abstractly contemplating. My state is one of conflicting strata exposed to uplift and rupture. Acknowledged in a history of strikes and slips, withering valleys and colossal peaks. Time washes the mountains to sand… but the story of what they were remains.

I crumbled within. Isolating for now, but thinking about my future. I know there are things I can do still. I missed my chance to go to group tonight. I just was not in an “okay” place. I felt antisocial and somewhat hostile about having to put on the mask, or exert any energy towards the thought. Preservation is paramount, especially when the self is vulnerable, fractured, and worsening.

I’m trying for better tomorrow. No one reads or cares most of the time here anymore. I don’t matter out here. Poor sad me with no friends on WordPress. Boo fucking hoo. The only place I have any worth is within my consciousness, as it should be. I am my only fan, and the only one who can improve my state unassisted. No outside intervention will be a solution without my help. So help I yes, with of many them goods.

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