veritas and balderdash

Unfortunately, I never know when a day is going to be good or bad, so I can’t plan around it. I get hints, when my insomnia kicks in, but sometimes I still end up having a good day afterwards. I know that I have depression, and I know that it’s probably caused from having long term pain, and I know that my body hates me and is trying to slowly kill me, but knowing something doesn’t always make it easier. I could psychoanalyze my life to explain why I am the way I am, but again, knowing doesn’t make it any easier. I very rarely allow people to get too close to me, emotionally, because I know that it’s only going to cause pain down the road. I figure I have enough physical pain, without having to deal with emotional pain as well. That would explain why most of the people I consider good friends, I have never met in person. Being anonymous on the internet is a strange thing. You can choose to be a bully and hide behind your anonymity, or you can bare your soul and hide behind your anonymity. I share who I am, and some people think they know me, but I still don’t allow them inside the messed up confines of my mind.

Today was one of those days where every single part of my body hurts. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to walk, it hurts to move. These are the days when I border on suicidal. I start thinking that the world wouldn’t notice if I was gone. Oh, a few people might care for a little while, but in a year, I’d be forgotten. These are the thoughts that creep into my mind when the pain gets bad and the depression kicks in. Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I have no intention of killing myself, my body is doing a good enough job of that on its own. This is not a plea for intervention. It’s mostly just whining. Complaining. Venting. I get tired of being in pain constantly, and I get tired of hiding it. I get tired of becoming emotionally attached to someone or something, only to have it taken away. I gave up on happiness a long time ago. Now I just enjoy the occasional bouts of contentment. I look forward to the rare days when my body doesn’t feel like I’ve been hit repeatedly with a wooden bat. They’re becoming rarer as time stretches on. I guess, like finding a four leaf clover, it’s the rarity of the thing which makes us appreciate it more.