I wanna go home
Take off this uniform
And leave the show.
But I'm waiting in this cell
Because I have to know.
Have I been guilty all this time?

It is partially me no doubt. I was unhappy in kindergarten and more or less have stayed that way. I grew up unhappy plus have had some unlucky things happen such that I almost just expect something horrible to always happen. Right before I cross the finish line I'll slip and fall and fracture my skull or something. And so, very often I'm just expecting the negative and thus not enjoying what there is to enjoy. A stoic at best often; although that oversimplifies.

But still this world is utterly nuts. My own position in it, what luck/bad luck I've had matters not. This world is certifiable.

I think I've actually really held back here. Self censored myself a bit and thus sugar coated things a bit. Hilarious as that might sound. To truly face the truth of what this world is, is hard to do. I'm not the happiest person in the world to begin with... I'm pushing myself so hard. All these ugly relevations, well some of them anyway, loom and mount. In the face of simultaneously really being busy with just surviving, it sucks.

What I want to do is to rip off the fake smile and make people SEE! See in a way that I personally just barely glimpse myself now and then. The most horrifying novel ever written that makes some people want to kill me at the horrible antipanglossian thoughts I've placed in their head and other people realize that things must change. I want to take what Kundera does and magnify it tenfold minus his anti-idealist solution.

I haven't been honest enough here. Too much stiff upper lip stuff. I don't want this to look like a plea for help because dammit I still am being kind of considerate. I think unfortunately I can't compile want I really want to compile publicly. But it's been very useful all the same, and will continue I suppose.