Broken

So the fact that I am quite fucked up and broken emotionally isn't going to go away unless I keep fighting and fighting and fighting to heal myself, somehow. Trying to get to that point is one wobbly, precarious, slowly-taken step after another, and for every blood-sweat-and-tears inch of progress I think I've made, I fall back about three.

I don't really know exactly why I am writing this, except to perhaps ponder the idea that writing more, on this blog, might be good for me. Most people seem to want to hide their fucked-up-ness. Maybe I need to wave mine like a fucking flag instead of trying to hide from it. Because I CAN'T hide from it, I can't suppress it. I've tried and it doesn't work. Writing more might help me to work out some of this poison shit in my head and heart and soul. Maybe it'll start a dialog with others that will help me to come to some new conclusion. I don't really know yet. It's nearly 5 a.m. and I haven't slept and I am aware of the possibility that I am a bit delirious at this point.