Wrote this on 8-13

Still feel much the same way.

I've done everything you ever asked but still you look at me like I need help. Handicapped, crippled, helpless, what does it matter?  You still look at me as different, and it still hurts more than words can say. My own family treats me as if I am a burden to bear and I know it's subconscious and wholly unintentional for them to treat me in that manner. Perhaps I'm oversensitive but at least, I should be owed that much. God gives me this body that wracks me with pain and I don't begrudge His will to be done. We all have our crosses to bear and sometimes, mine get too heavy to deal with so I figure if I can write about it, maybe I can feel better. I feel stupid talking to myself, and I don't know if I'd ever let anyone read this material. But I have to get it out somehow. The person I used to tell all this crap to turned her back on me. We are not together anymore and we don't even talk. I've been a lot of things in this life but I never told someone I'd be there for them forever and then changed my mind later. When I say something, you can take it to the bank and write it down in the books. But yeah, now you're everybody's perfect little jehovah's witness girl now that you got rid of the worldly boy. But you forgot something. I'm a person too. You made me promises and you broke them. You can say it's hard for you too but in the end, you lied to me. You said you could handle it and you could not do so. But guess what? I still love you and I still wish the best for you. Even though I feel your knife plunged into my back more than a year later, I still want the best for you. Maybe I wasn't the best but you lied to me and you hurt the one person who stood by you despite everything. I am not perfect but I was sincere and honest. I don't doubt your sincerity and I know you didn't mean for it to end this way. But it still is what it is and I still bleed from my wound. So where do I go from here?  You try to live again, to trust, to feel, to believe that people are inherently good. That's what I'm doing. I'm trying to deal with it and be happy with myself. But there's a lot of things I am unhappy about and I don't tell anyone shit.

I just thought of another one.  Both my uncle and some of my very close friends have made comments to the effect that I'm lazy or I like to sit on my ass or that they can't believe that I was given college degrees when i struggle with basic things like opening a container or locking a door or things like that. Well guess what?  I'm not lazy but sometimes, it hurts to move. I don't tell you that it hurts because all you will do is look at me with fucking pity. I hate pity. I can't use pity in my life.  The simple things of life are hard for me to do sometimes because my mind works in ten thousand directions at once that it's hard for me to slow down enough to come down to that level of opening a container or locking a door. It just offends me. You're supposed to love me unconditionally but you want to dig in little barbs like that to me. I would never do that to anyone I love, I would never make them feel less of themselves because that's not what love is. Love is kind and gentle and I'm certain I read that in the Bible somewhere.  Who cares if I struggle with silly stuff?  Am I not still the person who would do anything for you?Well, the worst part about this journal is it's just an exercise of opening my own wounds. It won't change anyone's behavior towards me because they're not going to read it.  So, I'll remain their educated idiot, the heartbroken loner, and the dutiful son who feels as if he's a burden to his parents.  I'll hope things change and that they will go my way for a change for more than just a few days or months. I will continue to work hard to be that person my grandfather would have been proud to call his grandson.

In the poker game of life..

I'm sick of being dealt 2-7 and waiting for the flop to come 2-2-7.  The depression washes over me like a wave of regret and disappointment.  There's this huge gap in my heart and soul that needs to be filled, and I feel like I'm dying.  The worst part about it is no one knows.   If I told you all this, you'd flip out.  The mask covers it all.   I tried to be there for everybody so when the time came, you'd be there for me.  Bad strategy, Pete.  Because, people aren't like you.  People don't think like you.   They don't have your heart and soul.  They use and use and that's what the hole is.   So, screw them.  The only person you can truly count on is old number 1.  Yourself.  Fuck them all.