I’ve been angry

My mood has been bad. Pain probably (does) have a lot to do with it. And my disability. Some people with what I have, although worse, probably, live on disability. I seem to hide a lot. I work five days a week, and try to avoid exposure to chemicals that offend me. It rarely fully works. I get really angry, and go so far as to curse existence and God itself.

When it comes to day – I work at night – I try to hide. Perhaps that’s why I have found such a job in the first place, where I work at night/early morning, and don’t have to deal with the world, and other people. Some place where it takes less to hide my pain/irritation.

I often welcome the thought of ending/death. I often don’t understand why people are so desperate to hold onto life.

Sometimes I think that I was given this life, where I’m in pain, to allow me to let go of it. But I don’t know. Given by whom? What? Why?

I’ve been critical. In so many ways I’m ugly. Damaged. Beyond repair, in so many ways. But what I mean by critical, is of the world. Of others. Of myself too. Of course.

Some damage has been given. Some I tend to accept, and even give myself. “Fuck it”. Ultimately I’m desperate.

Sometimes I believe in God. One that I can relate to as a kind of entity. A consciousness, or some kind of director. Someone who watches over me, and has a plan, and judges me. I know I must be in error, to some degree. And I always reject that. I resent the situation I’ve been put in, where I am so weak, how I am. But when I think about it, it’s as if something tells me that it needs to happen. But I’m so fucked. Death will be good. If I’ll be punished more, and if it is someone doing it, to me, they can go fuck themselves. But I’m lost. I tell it to let go. I talk down at it that it exists at all. I’m desperate. So is it… ?

Fuck.

I certainly could stand to change habit.

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