Posted by susan47 on January 19, 2008, at 11:28:42
It seems the only time I ever feel good is when I smoke marihuana. I hate smoking marihuana. It makes my teeth yellow in the front and I have to use non-staining stuff which is hard to use when you're always smoking and now I can see this two little yellow lines creeping up the front, and I used to care about my looks. I don't have much. I have a little but when it sparkles it's better, and it only feels sparkly, I only feel good about my looks and my mind and my body and my kids and my life, when I smoke marihuana. But the smoking itself is the thing that makes it all bad. It hurts my body, it hurts my memory, it makes anything without it feel bad.
Worse.
I wouldn't ever feel bad if I weren't myself. I've felt bad about life and bad about myself since I was three years old. I don't know why. I do in a way. It's the year we emigrated to Canada from Germany. It's a young age at which to lose hope. I don't know what happened. I don't remember much, only flashes and emotions. I don't know what happened. But I feel better, much better, about life when I can escape. I learned to escape a lot. I had the most vibrant, imaginative, cruel little people world you could imagine. I stopped short of cutting the little people to pieces, I stopped short of murdering them, but I was cruel to them. They were little paper-doll cut-outs I played with from the Sears catalogue, they were my little people. I also had hallucinations, one that I vividly remember. I guess I was damaged from a long time ago, but I don't think I was ever really unloved. I don't think I was ever really hated. I know I felt the force and velocity of the feeling of hate from my dad and anger and frustration and disappointment and weariness, fear from my mother.
Oh, god.
I hurt.
poster:susan47
thread:807609
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20071223/msgs/807609.html