Icarus's blog: "Hope- by any other name."

I love watching a self destruct.
An addict. A collapse.

I think its because I can kinda identify. I'm pretty convinced I have an addictive personality.
Addicts are unfulfilled.
I feel exhausted all the time.
I go outta my way to be left alone.

I go outta my way to stay directionless and ambitionless.

I think its because honestly, if I had the means I'd put myself further in the grave.
Kicked the sauce a dozen times now.
Benz twice.

I put myself into therapy just to see if I'd rather score
Option came up, I surprised myself and declined.
I don't see that doc anymore. Because every time things got deep, I got twisted up i knots, and wanted to hit the easy button.

I wonder if that's been the appeal of some of my ex's.
They've all got a history of substance abuse and emotional instability, even if it seemed "harmlessly recreational" ... they were still addicts.
And so am I.

I'm just an addict with no fucking juice.

I'm scared outta my fucking mind. Every day, every hour.

I dunno how to win.
I'm starting to think I don't want it bad enough.

cooking became an addiction it became a frothy diversion from the other shit I'd be doing right now, risking my life became an addiction, hurting people, sex, porn, booze, pills, mind games, pseudo-relationships, pseudo-friendships, fixing people, gambling, video games, its all just one big placeholder.

I can't think of what I want because every ounce of my energy is spent on keeping away from whatever that dark, terrifying truth is within me.

I have no idea what that is.

I'm unhappy so I'm an addict.
And no, that's not cyclical.

I told my mom to lock me up.
I meant it.

I've meant it for the last four years.
I'm sure some minor accomplishment will change my mind tomorrow.
I'm sure for a week or so I'm gonna be fine... then I'll come back here
and everything's gonna hurt again
and there will just be this thick heaviness I can't swim through in my chest.

and I'll have to score again
just enough peace or adrenaline or endorphins to get by.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I just want to be a pacifist and not called a coward for it.
I want to support myself with enough respect without being called picky.
I want to be happy but not called lazy, or a failure.
I want to be left alone from every imagined and real insult and malign.

I'm sick of this... all the damn time.
No matter what I'm doing, its not enough
its not what I'm supposed to be doing... why do I know what I shouldn't be doing, without knowing what I should be doing?

Why are we a country that claims to guarantee the puruit of happiness and not the acquisition?

What's the carrot on the end of the stick?
... and what if you hate carrots?