i've been thinking about dying a lot lately. not killing myself, but dying. i've been thinking of it as this fantastic release and perfect union with my creator.

[everything in its right place]

my therapist thinks that i don't have the capacity to identify certain feelings; that because of my manic depression i am perpetually in a state of grandiosity- pinning one thing as another instead of what it really is.

[i don't want to be a mother anymore]

the truth is i hate everything about myself except my brilliance. and i don't hate myself because it is better or worse than yours- it is because it is a flaw, and i learned as a child that flaws are unexceptable. i've learned to appreciate my manipulative ways/come to terms with my fear. it doesn't make it acceptable.

[hiding behind a door makes me feel invisible]

i believe that everyone has certain points in life that they are bound to hit regardless of how many routes they take. the ones that i have hit have destroyed me, changed me and angered me. i don't want to be responsible for my behavior when it's a result of all those things. i want to believe that my history is more intense than yours.

[i believe that i have become powerless over my addiction; irrelevant]

there's the truth of it and the whole truth of it. the one thing i know how to do right is tell the whole story.

2006-01-24, 7:14 p.m.
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