Recently I have debated whether to stop blogging.
I feel I may just be repeating myself in slight variation, and some of my struggles are just too much for me to consider sharing in this format – too current, too fresh and lacking in perspective and depth — and honestly: probably just more of the same nonsense.
Will I ever learn ?
I possess the intelligence – but not the emotional tenacity – to become some better version of myself. Instead, I cycle through my dysfunctions every day, acting out predictably with alarming regularity. No amount of breathing can calm me into rational thinking. In some situations, I am less human, more animal, bound helplessly to react in a way I can’t resist despite all my thinking and analyzing – with and without the assistance of therapists and such.
Will I ever stop?
It frustrates me, this betrayal of my mind by my body – a revelation inextricably tied to my inauspicious beginnings.
Do we ever become something more than that child we once were or do we just come older, more complicated iterations of the original, like badly reproduced mimeographs.