Rant for my teacher

Secret “work” journal, as in Step work? Or (other extreme) deleterious bulimia. Or just chit-chat. Or just chit.

Things that are good or would make me better.
Speaking Spanish.
Being content if not downright grateful to feel serene/human/happy just to be breathing.
Being reliably motivated without pharmacy visits. And by something other than Fear of failure.
Motivated: To work. To practice. To write. To “help others.” (that nebulous phantasmic God does it anyway dimwit thing).

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That was written by Zohey (as in Franny and....), aka Miley, Aka Tazza, Devil Girl, Snooze Hound.

The reality. Days are strange. I need help. I am ill. Nothing really really satisifies me. What a great week at work! And now I am celebrating by eating bread and butter. Stale bread but not rancid butter. Par-tay!!!!!!

Perhaps. Just perhaps there are some worthwhile satisfying things, potential such things:

Sex: ? messy, messy, and somewhat messy.
Nice food. Silly and time consuming.
A hockey game. Loud.
Nose picking. Dangerous, bloody.
Driving fast. So what.
“Being there for others.” That old chestnut…accompanied by the other: you can’t give away what you don’t have.
I am supposed to just be satisfied with sobriety today, and do a little work towards self-love and build a relationship with Gawd (who loves me unconditionally) and figure out what I REALLY WANT from the steps of AA, and why I seem to so want to hurt myself and those I love. But I'm not doing much today, and I'm lonesome and a bit pissy....However...>>!

Contrary to popular talk, I do not have an anger problem. I’m quite normal with anger. Competitive, yes. Approval seeking, yes. Angry. O sure, a little.
But no more than you are. Probably quite a bit less.

Because of my philosophy training. I take the long view.

Rage problem, another matter, but I have been working on it, improving for a long time. I haven’t hit anybody or thrown anything for years now.
I usually pause when agitated.

Just please, when will the obsession be removed? When will I stop missing my friends. The little leprechaun friends?
I have stopped intermittently. They don’t care.
They still like ME! So what though. They have bad taste. Walk, a personality, talk, a personality....etc. And no, not.

Blog blog blog.
Too many deaths, too many suicides. Think I’ll stay up all night and watch the dogs be weird. Zo likes me for some reason. Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m f__in’ cool.