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Jack's Extras

2017-05-04 - 6:24 p.m.

Jack's Disability Case Rejection Letter

There is always someone better than you. Worse than you. Worse off.

Like I said I am never good enough and never bad enough.

Just some angry middle finger nobody kind of stuck here. Only I have no meaning. It is lost in the crowd of all the other fingers.

It is only when you fucking do something crazy that anyone notices or cares.

And I am right there.

A crazy smile.

Both middle fingers sticking straight up.

There just might be some initiation sequences clicking and locking into place down in the war room. Right now.

The control panel lights are flashing like a panic attack at a carnival.

Master control?

Self control?

Out of control.

There is the funny laughing gas feeling that somehow your life feels like it's not real anymore.

For a moment you are your own movie. Having one of those God's Eye view dreams.

Like this is all some fantasy or story in your head. Maybe it is. Maybe that is all any of this is. Some fucking funny fugue that we have all been taking too seriously.

Ha ha! You're lucid!

You're dreaming!

Go fucking nuts!

If you never want to wake up again, you have to make this really good.

It doesn't matter what my therapist says.

Yeah I do.

Because I am not fucking going back.

One way or the other.

I AM NOT GOING BACK.

I don't care how many times I have to go to the hospital. I am not going back. I don't care what I have to do to myself.

If you can't tell, I really needed to see my therapist today.

I needed her calming grounding voice of reason, though I am not sure how deep it would have reached me.

I am losing my grip and just letting it go.

It hurts so much more holding on. Gravity always pulling on you so hard. You're not
saving yourself. You only think you are.

Let go. Just fucking let go.

Open your fingers and free fall.

The last time I was triggered like this was the time I got picked up by the cops and taken away to the hospital for 12 days. (First week of March last year)

Twenty minutes to 4 my therapist texts and asks if she can see tomorrow? Crisis.

I am not okay but I say "Ok" anyway.

What else can I say? Right now someone else needs her more.

You'll have your turn.

Like I am waiting in line at the amusement park or something.

You have your own devices to hold you. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. Though Fridays are always chaotic and never work out well. I need a bit more than the bottom of the pot right now. Burned out black coffee.

I am right back to where I was last entry only worse.

I am beginning to feel manic destructive and suicidal again.

Right as things were actually starting to go really well or look like it anyway.

But none of it eased my resting tension.

Hell fuck I have been trying to decompress for the last 4 and a half months.

I have been free of my last shit job ever, since Christmas Eve and I still have not decompressed or fully recovered myself. I am starting to think maybe I never will.

And the sick part is maybe right now that is not even in my best interests.

Continued...

"In Tyler We Trust"

The Moment - Change Over

Jack Lets Down Some Of His Silent Charade - 2017-06-25
Jack Is Never Okay - 2017-06-16
Jack's After Thoughts On His Paranoid Insecurity - 2017-05-17
Jack's Constant Paranoid Insecurity - 2017-05-12
Jack's Disability Case Rejection Letter (2) - 2017-05-04

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