I feel the need to talk. I’m sad. I’m confused. I’m scared.

My court hearing was today. If our fathers were our models for God, that explains why I expected the hellish, scrutinous wrath of a beast beyond words. I am instead a part on an assembly line. This is perhaps scarier. I’m out hundreds of dollars now, minimum, and will most likely ALSO have to attend a buncha anger management classes.

Still God berated me when I went to soothe myself with $2.66 thing of Fireball. Well, God’s berating actually stopped me from getting more. But then, in a new state of mind, God says I have to help people. I have to save someone like all the narcissists calling themselves Jesus or the Buddha or the Oracle of Delphi or what-have-you have done.

This is what I tell myself to avoid being a bottomless pit of infinite worthlessness. Narcissism is a generational curse; I’m this way because my father. Jesus wasn’t good enough for his step-dad. Moses was abandoned. I feel the only way to save my soul is with the ultimate hail Mary to score a thousand points at once and win the game.

Monumentous pressure. Hurting n sad.

Synchronicities keeping me afloat; glad

That at least I can express myself there

Where more than my eyes will so stare!

I’m learning to be happy again you see?

Fuck I just need some light, I need to ‘c’