my life is an exercise in futility. even when i do nothing wrong, i still fail. my bad karma must have no end. even when things are not my fault, i still hurt. i must be too sensitive. we knew this was going to happen, i guess it was worth it, but for some reason it seems like what we had is made less by this certainty. i am meant to be alone. i am meant to be embittered and cynical. who needs laughter anyway. i look at my last post and try to remember what it was like. i am not a depressed maniac or a manic depressive i am an incompetent masochist, i set myself up for great falls. my feelings are not wrong, they are appropriate, they are separate from their source. this probably makes no sense to many of you but i don’t give a flying rats ass if it does. this is my damn diary and i’ll write whatever i please. just be glad i let y’all take a look at it.
my focus determines my reality. only i can change my karma. i dictate my own terms. my life is totally mine. no more self-deception. it is time to return to existentialist mode, at least for a brief period.