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Where else can you get a really good look at a train wreck of emotional dysfunction
and not be right in the middle of the thing?

Friday, October 19, 2012

Silent Shame

Sometimes I am ashamed at being unhappy when I have lived—and continue to live—a life of such privilege and relative ease.  I don't wish to be unhappy, and I don't seek to be unhappy.  And I primarily pursue (with limited success) simple, light-hearted distractions and warm social interactions.  I also appreciate what I have and what fate has given me and strive to rely upon myself and not others.  But there is a certain self-absorption in misery.  I acknowledge that, yet I cannot simply deny the destructive tendencies, ennui, rage, terror and utter distaste for life that make up the core of my being.