07-16-2017, 03:58 PM
It really just feels like the poison of the environment is relentless, and even after many days of being conscious, I just go right back to being sick in the mind and body - each time worse than the last. Everything just feels like constant poison oozing out of the air into my lungs and bones and brain. And now I've started to be poisonous too. The past week I've been pretty much a nonstop a****** to my brother and mom. Like really very poisonous. Last night I continuously provoked my mom and brother and laughed in their face while they were angry, angry, angry. I made fun of my mom. I don't do that usually.
I poisoned our household. Yet I felt numb, and in fact I feel like I would do it again. I genuinely felt no feelings as I consciously sent a sick, twisted pain to my brother and mom. I felt like a perverted, sick, twisted observer of my own actions. They're going to come home and then what? I almost feel like doing it some more. If not today I'll surely do it again. The roots of the poison are deep, very deep, in my heart, in my soul. My dad created poison within me and then I let it fester and seep into my heart. Now he's gone but I still carry and nurture the poison, share it with others.
Some days I think I feel actual joy. (Right now it is a hazy memory.) I do not understand this at all. On the one hand my inner silence grows and clarifies. On the other hand I cultivate a noxious poison in my mind. How is this even possible? I must just be deluded to think I know what joy is if I continue to poison my family?
I poisoned our household. Yet I felt numb, and in fact I feel like I would do it again. I genuinely felt no feelings as I consciously sent a sick, twisted pain to my brother and mom. I felt like a perverted, sick, twisted observer of my own actions. They're going to come home and then what? I almost feel like doing it some more. If not today I'll surely do it again. The roots of the poison are deep, very deep, in my heart, in my soul. My dad created poison within me and then I let it fester and seep into my heart. Now he's gone but I still carry and nurture the poison, share it with others.
Some days I think I feel actual joy. (Right now it is a hazy memory.) I do not understand this at all. On the one hand my inner silence grows and clarifies. On the other hand I cultivate a noxious poison in my mind. How is this even possible? I must just be deluded to think I know what joy is if I continue to poison my family?