Things that have been weighting on my heart and soul and mind.
Congratulations goes out to ME. ME ME ME. I've been sober for five months, nearly have of a year. Which means, of course, I've been living a rehabulous life of recovery for nearly half a year.
Which means I'm still in rehab.
I've been in a several day long funk. It's incredibly difficult to maintain some semblance of serenity while in rehab with seventeen year olds and straight girls and liars and seventeen year old straight girls that lie. And not seventeen year old straight girls that may or may not lie. And girls that may or may not be straight.
Lately everything dramatic and affecting in my life has been strictly centered in the ups and downs inherent in an environment populated by recovering compulsive liars. Of course I too could be called a recovering compulsive liar.
One COULD say that.
The impressions of my peers I've accumulated over the course of the past three months though, is that they are considerable less bitter and jaded than I when it comes to sociological criticism. Every time an issue arises where I feel somewhat let down in relationships, I compulsively regress into rampant (though justified) bitterness aimed at social norms and american culture (pop culture) as a whole. But justification is subjective. Like everything. I can't abandoned the methodology for incorporating serenity into my unruly thought patterns just because I got dicked over by someone I trusted and had faith in.
It comes in waves, usually in the evening. I hate when people (fags) talk about metaphorical "tools" in their "toolboxes" but I guess... I hate saying this... it causes me to wretch... I guess I'm acquiring tools of my own. I can distance myself a bit from rash judgment and criticism of humanity by constantly reaffirming: my general powerlessness; physical manifestations of leisure; and the obvious fleeting nature of subjective interpretations of "reality."
Whooo!
Which means I'm still in rehab.
I've been in a several day long funk. It's incredibly difficult to maintain some semblance of serenity while in rehab with seventeen year olds and straight girls and liars and seventeen year old straight girls that lie. And not seventeen year old straight girls that may or may not lie. And girls that may or may not be straight.
Lately everything dramatic and affecting in my life has been strictly centered in the ups and downs inherent in an environment populated by recovering compulsive liars. Of course I too could be called a recovering compulsive liar.
One COULD say that.
The impressions of my peers I've accumulated over the course of the past three months though, is that they are considerable less bitter and jaded than I when it comes to sociological criticism. Every time an issue arises where I feel somewhat let down in relationships, I compulsively regress into rampant (though justified) bitterness aimed at social norms and american culture (pop culture) as a whole. But justification is subjective. Like everything. I can't abandoned the methodology for incorporating serenity into my unruly thought patterns just because I got dicked over by someone I trusted and had faith in.
It comes in waves, usually in the evening. I hate when people (fags) talk about metaphorical "tools" in their "toolboxes" but I guess... I hate saying this... it causes me to wretch... I guess I'm acquiring tools of my own. I can distance myself a bit from rash judgment and criticism of humanity by constantly reaffirming: my general powerlessness; physical manifestations of leisure; and the obvious fleeting nature of subjective interpretations of "reality."
Whooo!