quel dommage means; “what a pity” usually in a snarky way, it seems like I enjoy a fair amount of sayings in French, but don’t have the ambition to learn most of it.
I’m the source of the majority of my own misery, and I know it, and have known it for most of my life. Knowing the location of the problem doesn’t do a thing if there are no available remedies, or if the cure is worse.
I keep getting presented with this sham cure for my dissatisfaction; to become satisfied with things as they are now. Is that really how a match is won? To quit? I couldn’t live with myself under such circumstances.
Yet, I sold out, I shook hands with demonic forces and was given sanctuary away from the pressures and demands of “reality.” It’s that cognitive dissonance that causes agony; I’m a paid up rebel, a rebel without the convictions to keep at it full time. I feel hollow, a shell that satisfies the demands the world has. Inside, agony, turmoil, and an insatiable hunger for something more. Outside; your friendly neighborhood high functioning junky. I’ve had dark circles under my eyes for so long that there is nothing I can do about it outside of surgery. I wish that someone had told me that where I was going was a path to this face, because I thought you had to do meth and be homeless for a bit to look as used up as I do.
Sometimes I feel as if I am falling, that unsettling feeling of your stomach dropping out, and uncontrollable plummeting ever downwards. Yet, I never hit anything. Like time is a dimension in which I am always descending, deeper, until the pressure way down there so deep gets to me to the point my heart or kidneys stop.