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it's amazing. Just the other day, i felt like my depression was this insignificant speck that i could brush aside, see through and past. i was thinking how lucky i was to cycle between highs and lows. i was greatful to have highs so i would have something to look forward to during my lows. i felt like i hade made peace with my demons. i felt like i was making progress. Alas, they are back, taunting my idealistic ignorance. They have me penned up and are screaming at me. Every incoming experience is filtered through their senses. Their reports on the world are as disheartening as the newscast of a nation losing a war. my dreams are my people, and they are dying, in words. They don't bother playing commericals anymore. i am not worth enough to afford luxuries. i feel like i need to make a sacrifice to appease them. They demand penance for my demeaning them and my misplaced faith in myself as my own saviour. i have not earned my happiness, happiness is a postcard on my fridge.

What do they want?? i gave them my spark, and they gave me stability. i gave them my arm, the link between my creative mind and the world, and they gave me security. i gave them my health, and they gave me shelter. What is next? What will happiness be worth if i am dull, lame and dying?

My grandfather died. I didn't feel like writing about it earlier, I didn't really know what to say. I guess I didn't really want to put it to words, because that requires sorting through it and being introspective. Looking inside always dredges up a tangled mass of painful memories and unresolved issues. I'm in a down cycle right now, so I'm oozing ugliness. I suppose now is as good a time as any to delve into this. It's better to bring myself down when I'm already down than bum myself out when I'm on a much-needed up cycle.

So, getting back to the original topic. My Grandfather and I were not close, I don't really feel much grief for his death. What I am is angry and regretful. I am angry at myself and regret my actions and behaviours in regard to the issue. I am angry because I knew he was dying, and I could not make the time in my not-so-busy life to go see him. I feel horrible because I was just thinking about how happy he would be to see his oldest grandchild and how well I am doing on the day I was told he had died. I feel awful now, because I'm sure he would have loved to have told someone about his life, and I'm sure I could have learned a lot from him. I don't think anyone ever really took the time to listen. I regret not taking the opportunity to learn about my heritage and learn my language, which is incredibly selfish. I do reprehensible things like this every day. I don't know what is wrong with me, but I'm lucky to have the few friends I do have for how neglectful I am in my relationships. I feel like such a self-involved bitch sometimes, and I'm sure I'm not the only person who thinks of me that way.

Hate me, I do sometimes, and sometimes I deserve it.