I love greatly the ability to create.  Whether I am writing a blog post, developing cutting-edge software,  or composing music, there is great satisfaction to be had in knowing that I am in full control over the life and success of such projects.  Such “creation” can extend to the realm of parasitism, where false bonds are constructed in order to build a rapport that leads to an interpersonal relationship of inequality.  All of these creations are not spared from my cycles of self-destruction, however.  The reasons vary, but I seem to always be one bad day away from destroying that which I created, no matter how much time or energy has been spent on such endeavors.

I need not have an escape plan when I come close to the brink.  I’ve come dangerously close to quitting jobs when I had less than a few days’ savings in the bank.  I’ve ended friendships over the most minor things even though there was no hosts to feed on in their absence.  I don’t know why it is, but when I become frustrated or caged, I lash out as if I am four years old.  Where there was harmony, there became discord, even though I was still in the middle of a performance.

I know that it is likely that I will self-destruct again.  Logic dictates that I should not, but my mind tells me otherwise.  All I can do is protect myself from myself.  I can’t take my ball and go home when I have no home to go to.  I am not worried about regretting my actions – as I have yet to truly regret anything regarding my life – but rather I am concerned that I will arbitrarily inconvenience myself.


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