Unfiltered Thoughts

Can you see me or are you too wrapped up in your head? Can you hear me? You like the sound of your voice, a bit too much, I think. Are you blind?  Or maybe you just don't give a shit? I'm right here, in front of you. Why can't you see me? Why does talking to you feel like shouting into the void? You're so frustrating! I'm not my disease, it's a part of who I am  but for fuck's sake, there's a  lot more to me that just this fucking mental illness! Why can't you see that? As a whole, I'm more than just the fucking sum of my parts! You don't label cancer patients cancerous, why do you define me by my depression?  I am a work of art, a fucking masterpiece, why can't you see that? I wish you'd take off those rose tinted glasses and take a fucking good look at me. I'm not your ex, she left, I'm here. Why can't you see that I AM HERE. She's gone, let her go! You make such a big deal about how I can't trust you, how ...

Philip Larkin wrote a poem about how parents f*ck you up. They pass on their faults and add a few more, just for you. I agree with him, and even more so that it is through no fault of their own. How in turn, they were f*cked up by their parents. I'm contemplating his solution, he advises us to "get out while you can, don't have any kids of your own." But there's really no danger in that seeing as I have not found a person to procreate with. Blaming my parents is no longer excusable at my age, I have taken responsibility for my issues but I'm feeling petty because my mother didn't tell me she loved me too, when I called her yesterday. She said thank you instead, thank you! I still haven't made the appointment with the shrink I was referred to, so I am going to rant on the internet. I mean what is a personal blog for anyway? I'll write a book when they are old and blind. Like most of us, I've been blessed with issues by my loving parent...