Hospital III

It has been a strange couple days. My mood shifted into a content thoughtful place. One might be able to go far and even label it happy. For me? Happy? really doesn’t much fit considering I am locked in a psych hospital. My last positive post, brought some questioning from Virgil. Guess my first instinct is to be angry. I wrote a positive optimistic entry, only to bring doubt. Nevermind I am sitting in her because of her urging. I think I have a right to be a bit pissy. I could take that one step further and say it was here approval that let me take the fucking steroids in the first place. So, angry isn’t that hard to grasp. But it isn’t blame. She wasn’t the one that made the steroids react with my brain and cause the chaos that ensued. No, that was out of all our hands. It wasn’t anyones fault. It just is. But never the less, I guess that post was well outside my realm usual. If anyone knows me, it is her. How many years has she watched me stare down a half filled vessel. If anyone knows my instinct to look only at the problems, and not often at the solutions, it is her. So I guess, she may well be right. That probably is just a mirage created by the shift in mood, nothing real to grab onto. It will be gone just as fast as it arrived. There may not be a way for me to shift my core, and I do think that pessimism is indeed part of my soul. It has been there long before anyone stared me down from across an office, or strapped me to a gurney. No, it was very much a part of me. I was always a quiet introspective kid, often worrying silently about what would go wrong, and when it did not I would find horrible scenarios to fantasize about. Yeah, I guess it is me. There may never be an optimistic me, rather I need to figure out a better way to ride out the days of worry, and anxiety. See them for what they are, just emotions sculpted from an uneasy psyche. She may well me right, optimism just isn’t me.
There will come a day when I can go with the flow a bit more. Note the problems, but don’t capture them in the vast butterfly net of my personality. Instead leave them free, note their existence, but just let them be. No need to hold them tight, and study them indefinitely. No need to pin them down and collect them, just as I did all those thousands of bugs as I child. They can be there, even completely surrounding me, but if I don’t hold on to them they never gain that hold on me. they never truly become powerful. I guess that would be a place I might get to, but for now I am far too busy, net in hand, looking for any and all problems and worries to catch. Surrounding myself in endless, countless numbers of specimens. Enough to make me question my very life, and my ability to keep on surviving.


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