So I tend to assume that the problem is me. With the destructive ways of thinking and habits that I cling to. Or with my defective body. With my distorted, twisted personality. I look at the people around me, and think ‘They look happy. I should be like them.’
If I could only be like everyone else, and feel a sense of meaningful connection with others, then my life would be worth living. It gives me something to aspire to. Got to find a way to fix myself, and then everything will be ok. Or, if that’s not possible, got to keep a lid on my […]