Now or never?

I need to get my shit together. I am currently traveling, 90 mph down the road to self-destruction, all gas, no brakes. I’ve been on this road for years. So long in fact that I can’t remember any other. I suffer from a handful of mental issues. Depression, anxiety, a general hopelessness. I have serious trust issues. Anger problems. I have zero boundaries and suck at communicating. I’m immature as fuck. Irresponsible and unruly. I’m antisocial with a thick wrap sheet. 3 time loser with the department of corrections. I’m just a big hot mess. I’ve got so many problems that my problems got problems. We have reached a point where we’re borderline no turning back, which I’m kinda cool with. But I’m kinda not. My biggest mental issue is my subconscious mind. So I know that I’m a badass. That I’m a straight gangster. Magical as fuck, capable of anything I can wrap my mind around. Anything that I’ve ever really wanted I’ve had it, if only for just a minute. I’m good at everything I do passionately which is pretty much the only shit I do, and believe it or not I’m lucky as fuck. Or blessed. Regardless, I’m not lacking in confidence. But even though I know I’m a badass, there is some part of me deep inside that thinks that I’m just a piece of shit. That I’m worthless and unworthy of love. That I’m just gonna always fuck shit up and probably die either in prison or alone in some dark, dirty alley. All those fuckhead adults that always had some shit to say, whom I always thought dumb as fuck and full of shit, but I’m gonna memorize the mantra of bullshit I’ve heard all my life. And the worst part is I’m not sure exactly how to fix it. I don’t even really know when I’m self-sabotaging myself until after I’ve already done it. It’s getting old. I know that that subconscious bullshit is exactly that, bullshit. I know that shits not true. I know my worth better then anyone and I deserve to be happy and loved. I deserve to be ok. But I’m not. Maybe I need to go to therapy. Or get on some meds. Or maybe get off of some. I need to do something because I don’t want to wake up one morning and not feeling the love that I do for people which is the only thing keeping me alive. Well that and an undying need to shove my middle fingers in your face and say, “See motherfuckers? Y’all were wrong about who you thought I was.” Or better yet to have them say that. Pipe dreams. Delusions of grandeur.

Published by devilmonkey666

I'm a hot mess. A 41 year old child who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. Or even if he wants to grow up for that matter. People say I'm a writer. I'm not so sure. But it is therapeutic and helps me from going all the way left sometimes.

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