I do not want to “simply ask for help”...
there’s a lot of puffed-up pride, and guilt, and shame, and estrangement - a lot of negative shit in my head that does not want to make the one-to-one connections.
There’s this overwhelming defeatism, screaming at me that “I’m constantly asking for help, and nothing’s improving, and...”
Then it turns dark with “...maybe it would all be better, if you weren’t around any more. Look at the silence... nobody cares!”
So, as I post crazy shit (again) with another part of my mind screaming “Fucking Drama Queen!”, I just want to disappear and hide and run away, and swallow (or choke down) these bitter pills...
Really, it is all down to too much pride; and that could just make my life a living hell, if I don’t die, first. I don’t want to die. I also don’t want to suffer.
Yet my brain and my body and my spirit keep twirling at windmills, instead of trying to adjust reality.
...and there’s that lingering suspicion that posting stuff to Facebook is just creating messages that fall on blind eyes...
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