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I seem to be getting angry lately and yesterday night I figured out why. I’m not going to say because I feel if I do I will be judged and the anger, messages and my own words will be dismissed. I’m falling into a bad place in slo-mo though and although I am desperately fearful of the results I still try to swim up and out, as if it ever actually helped before. On the good side struggling can distract me from being sucked into a worse depression that’s harder to recover from.

Waiting for a message for me wears off the pain. The immediacy becomes burned like bad incense where everything is coated in the sweet stench of foulness while the inkiness of the smoke blurs the line between fear and sadness. And the longer the senses are filled with it the less likely I realize that I smell like it, I drag it around. A cloud of despair, the scent of filth, an atmosphere of resignation poisons my moments and spoils any interaction. That’s why I like anger. It’s an acrid brimstone stench that comes like a fart but blows away with a cleansing wind. This purgatory is an acrylic box with all the black and yellow bile inside.

I’ll get to the Hobo humpin slobo babe after all the things I want to write down before I forget.

I’m including this website because it’s something that relates to IPS (Intentional Peer Support.)

Here’s a reminder of what IPS is: “Intentional Peer Support is a way of thinking about purposeful relationships. It is a process where both people (or a group of people) use the relationship to look at things from new angles, develop greater awareness of personal and relational patterns, and to support and challenge each other as we try new things.” Taken from The National Coalition for Mental Health Recovery (NCMHR) website http://www.ncmhr.org/intentional-peer-support.htm

http://www.whatibeproject.com/

 

“The “What I Be Project” is a social experiment turned into, what is now, a global movement about honesty and empowerment. In today’s society, we are often told to look or act a certain way. If we differ from these “standards,” we are often judged, ridiculed, bullied and sometimes even killed over them. I started this project in hopes to open up the lines of communication, and to help everyone accept diversity with an open mind & heart and empower those who feel they suffer for something they may see as a flaw.”

“I encourage every viewer to look at each image and put yourself in the individuals shoes. By allowing yourself to feel what they feel, you might realize something you’ve never noticed before. If you don’t understand someone’s message, stay tuned. To eliminate any confusion, each participant will be writing a 500 word or less statement explaining how their insecurity has affected their life.”

The guy I was going with when I was a senior in High School (which is kind of off considering I almost got tossed out of High School for not showing up,) was the man who tried to commit suicide by putting a bullet through his head. His teeth were messed up and he slurred when he spoke. I don’t use him as an example of why I never successfully committed suicide though. I’m a coward. I don’t want to survive a serious suicide attempt with my brain fried. Any way when I knew him he was homeless and a junkie. I had negative self esteem and fell for his humor. That’s what I said. My self esteem was worse than you would understand. My libido was high. He wasn’t stupid and the more I got to know about his background the more I got to understand how bad some things were in his family. I dated two of his other brothers. I’m not ashamed to say that I have a brothers thing going on. Only because I don’t date them anymore. I dated another set later on in another state but this was before I realize that particular problem about myself. My only advice about love that I will stand clearly by is: “Don’t fall in love with a junkie.” They’re not in love with you no matter what they say. So I was that Hobo Humpin Slobo Babe and I had no shame. His sister told me to stop going with him even setting me up with her other brother fresh back from JobCorp. And thankfully Bullet-In-His-Head left for northern climes whenI returned to finish High School (albeit through a computer program in an alternative program.) Later on he developed AIDS through needle use and died from it’s complications.
When you’re sad just remember that …
http://magagag.net/funny-animals/when-youre-sad-just-remember-that/?pid=2068#u4RSsEyqiCsYL1pa.99

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