Saturday, 10 July 2010

There are times I hate being me

LAst night I had a blowout of sorts. A minor one but the friends I was
with probably didn't understand why or what was going on. Frankly
neither did I.

We tried to get into a bar where my mate had been kicked out of earlier
n the week. He was talking to the bouncers to let him and somehow I
started ranting that he was a good person and why were they hassling
him. I don't know where that came from. They wouldn't let him in because
I was ranting so we all left.

I felt like a total shit for exploding like that. my mood collapsed
instantly internally so I left my friends and got a can of beer and then
went and huddled in a corner in a side street out of the light drinking
it while I wished I wasn't me.

I picked myself up and went home around 10:30 in the evening. Thankfully
I managed to find a shop that was open and get some food which I
actually managed to eat. My self-hate ends up with me being angry and I
remember throwing the chicken bones on the street. I hate littering.

I wish I didn't do this sort of stuff. There's a part of me that wants
to scream "it's not fair". I'm fighting the urge to withdraw further.

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"