Thursday, November 13, 2008

Three cans of fosters...

..., and sitting at home, that is, my parental home, makes me feel a nice sense of numbeness.

I think I was infantilised around Marie, emotionally, stuck in a place I thought she wanted me, I thought she would like me if I was in that place.

I haven't purged in ages.

By the way, it is a 2 year anniversary of my incarceration. I had sex with a woman, my girlfriend, tender intimate passion, firey rage of lust. Antonia told me that I made her bleed from all the sex. I haven't given much thought to what happened 2 years ago.

In some ways, I think that gives me power over it. The power over my mind, over my thoughts. I'm not thinking about it anymore. The more energy and thought I put into feeling depressed and thinking about feeling depressed and how difficult things are, it makes it harder.

Things are difficult, I know because I'm living it. I'm going to push through, going to push hard.

I'm afraid I'm going to have a breakdown if something goes wrong. I must learn that I am always built up and destroyed again.

My ego as well. I've suffered a knock, and I am finding the challenge of finding myself again. THis week I applied for a PhD, I sent of the letter finally that the referees have sorted out their letter. One guy told me that supervision was not guaranteed, another said I was a weak candidate.

I have a hurdle to jump, and a leap of faith that I will get in. I'm scared.

I have to go cos my dad just came in from his night shift...might sign on my other laptop!

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