The very thing I am, I can not so simply endure

Thoughtfulness. A gesture here, a gesture there.

I pride myself on being thoughtful, but at home, with my mother, I’m quite the opposite. I’m irritable, I spend time focusing on distractions, only sometimes productive ones. She just has a way to push my buttons. Maybe that’s just a mom thing, but sometimes it’s really bad.

I’m angry and unable to think straight. The only thoughts I have are based on having no purpose. They are based on struggling and mistakes. The thoughts I have are rarely serene.

Most of the peace I get is when I can’t think. When my meds are working their best and I can’t even tell you how this sentence would end otherwise. But it’s not that way right now. Why should it be that way?

Why do I have to be stupid and like I feel I have dementia if I want to have peace. Why can’t I not just leave shit alone?

Tired of my fucking brain.


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