I wasn't planning on writing again so soon, but I can sense the need to do so. I feel a restlessness in my soul - an itch deep inside for something great. A hope for more than I now have and for something better. A secret desire that I am sure we all share: to be known and cared for. And, beyond even that, to feel those things with every fiber of my being! The more I think about it, the more it distills in my heart. I want to be known! I want to be appreciated! I want to be loved! Alas, I know that - even if I knew I was the recipient of such great treasures, they would mean nothing if I can't (or won't) feel them or believe that they are even there.
I have a disease... Well, two, really. One is serious and the other more lighthearted. I'll tell you about the silly one first: I am constantly hungry. Those who know me best know that I am always ready for a bite to eat. Anytime, anywhere, if you need an eating buddy, I'm your man.
The second, and considerably more serious, disease has two parts: Part 1. I don't know who I really am. I don't know how I fit into the cosmos. I don't know what makes me tick. I have this problem because I have never taken the time to get to know myself. Part 2: I don't care enough about myself to do so. To be quite honest, I actually quite despise myself.
I would be lying if I said I didn't want any sympathy for that statement, but it would also be a lie to say that I would accept that sympathy if it were offered. I find myself in quite the state of self loathing and not wanting to get any better. I have become comfortable in my self hate and I can no longer see any other way of life. How very refreshing and depressing all at once to discover these things about myself.
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