angelsword

I can't seem to avoid images of people loathing their illness-stricken states. It's almost as if the entirety of what makes up the Media is following me, plotting new and exciting ways for me to feel like shit. Here I was, thinking I'd be safe in a wholesome samurai flick ("Love and Honor," from the same director of "The Twilight Samurai," Yoji Yamada). But no! This time, the main character is poisoned, stricken blind, and becomes suicidal because he feels like a burden.

Maybe I'm going about this wrong. Perhaps I'm forcing this upon myself. Maybe I'm not really as harried by my own medical shenanigans (heh, shenanigans :3), but I feel that I should at least bemoan the whole ordeal like flashbacks to 'Nam, shouting, "You weren't there!" to anyone who attempts to remove the wool I've pulled over my eyes. The only flaw with that idea is that I really don't believe that I'm that masochistic where I have to find problems within me to bitch about and be the surly pseudogoth people expect me to be.

I know I am well within my right to lament what has happened to me, but often I find myself feeling guilty for exercising that right. I mean, I rarely want to hear me bleat on about how worthless I feel, having been wrested from a place I feel I actually fit in, so I imagine it's not any more fun for the people who are subject to my moody rants. Even now, I feel awkward putting this entry up, and most likely wouldn't if it weren't for my determination to get it all out, once and for all.