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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 3 of 3. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Shame on April 3, 2006, at 14:05:04
How often I post here in my mind, hurting bad enough to have something to say but not bad enough to say it well... It's a state of in-between just miserable enough to stop my life and make me regret the state of my own being once again.So why not post it and let it be what it is, a half formed though, a portion of my pain, a bit of rage, a piece of my anger? Because I know when I go back and read what I have written, it will be meaningless to me. Reading my old posts lets me know where I have been and use that to judge where I am now. Pawing through my writings from 12 years ago I see confusion much more profound than what I feel now, pain undulled by pills, and an expectation that I might rise from this sickness like a phoenix from it's own ashes. That expectation is gone; this is what I am forever and I know that now. Progress or pessimism? Either way it's reality, because no matter how much medication I cover it with I still am what I am. Broken.
How much of my potential has been wasted on sickness? How many things unaccomplished? Friends unmet? Life unlived. History, unwritten. Half of a life that others encourage me to celebrate. Which half, I ask? The half that is so filled with rage that it scares me, or the half that is just tired an apathetic enough to keep me from unleashing that rage on you, just for suggesting I celebrate my imitation of life?
Somewhere in there is who I used to be. Maybe. Maybe that Me has been obliterated by sickness and is lost forever. And I never go to say goodbye.
Not that any of this matters. Babble. It's all meaningless babble that doesn't do a thing.
Posted by joan797 on April 3, 2006, at 22:20:17
In reply to Unwritten, posted by Shame on April 3, 2006, at 14:05:04
You managed to write it, and elloquently so.
And I am better for having read it.Joan
Posted by special_k on April 4, 2006, at 8:33:31
In reply to Unwritten, posted by Shame on April 3, 2006, at 14:05:04
I don't write anything worthy to be called 'writing' very often. Occasionally I manage to get a poem out, but mostly not even that. Sometimes I try... But I can't seem to do it. Can't find the words. The style. I don't know, but I just can't seem to do it.
Mostly... I just ramble along really. But I do. I post it. Ramble along. Vent. Whatever. But maybe I shouldn't. I don't know. I guess I just say this because I want you to know that its okay. Its okay to post like this. Doesn't have to be a poem. Or anything like that. Or at least I don't think it has to be. I've never been redirected off here lol.
Sorry to ramble so. I guess I just mean to say that I think I understand that feeling. Sometimes i get another feeling too. Of needing to say something so bad. But having trouble, more than a little. I'm glad you are doing better than you were, but I'm sorry that things still hurt :-(
I feel broken too. Sometimes I think about what could have been. I think a lot about what I might be like, what my life would have been like if my parents had loved me. If I'd be a better person. A kinder person. A person who could do math. A person who was liked more. A person who enjoyed physical activity. Without a broken body. Without these memories. Maybe someone who could be able to help others more. Or maybe I wouldn't care about that 'cause I'd just be living my life. I don't know. But I think on it a bit :-(
Means something to me.I feel broken too :-(
I wish it didn't have to be this way :-(
This is the end of the thread.
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