I wish they were right.
I wish I could see all my issues as easy as I can see my reflection in a mirror.
Pimples, bruises, birthmark, scars, stretchmarks and the like. All enemies of what they deemed perfection.
They teach you to declare war on perceived imperfections on your body and to identify and to destroy asymmetries and abnormalities.
I wish the premier challenges in my life had everything to do with salaries and social circles.
Run faster, faster and faster, you ought to be chasing money and women.
I wish there was a God ensuring everything falls into place. That’s what they teach. And all of it is so cruel but it’s hardly any crueler than reality.
I wish I could live and die with someone I loved. It’s not that simple. Nothing is. We’re here because of coincidence not because of design, that’s what our best minds have said and if they were wrong it wouldn’t make much of a difference.
I don’t know what’s going on. Ever. It’s terrifying. It’s God awful, the situation is as dire and irreparable as the garbage I’m writing at this very moment. I don’t need anyone to believe or accept what I’ve said. I’d ask for help if I thought it’d mean anything. I’m scared. I don’t anticipate being un-scared. I don’t anticipate understanding. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, I am just waiting.