  lifted from the bluecheese guy. There are things I do for which there is no excuse and for which I will never forgive myself. I seem to be on a path of self-destruction, like one of those fireballs that destroy more bricks than intended, except I'm not ricocheting anymore, it's all on auto. The past few weeks have been generally good. I haven't been questioning the need for existence. Or, I've been looking at it from an objective angle. The answers are always the same, but then my mind gets bored and I move on to everyday stuff - because even if the answers do not lie there, at least I know that is what I'm supposed to be concentrating on. Playing along is redeeming sometimes. And then the stress factor arrives, and you get washed away with it, like cattle in a torrential flood, except that the altered brain activity exposes certain parts of you that you're not comfortable with .
And you try to deal with them, to bring them out in the open, to rub off the dirt and let some sun shine its generous light on them. And then someone says, "Don't use your brain, just use your hands. " And you spend the night crying. About why you cannot stop yourself, why you keep on hurting people near to you, and why you cannot answer generosity and love with anything more than awkwardness and a desire to prove yourself unworthy. hummm. 
