When I wish upon a star I find myself wishing I could go back and change things. I no longer look to the future, which is startling due to my age. But I am filled with regret and wish I could undo what I did. My feelings toward people now, what I once felt about them, I was once cold and vindictive. I was filled with anger at a world I thought had spurned me. But now I feel forced to continue to grow as a person but my approach to this is unusual at best. I feel obligated to make people laugh and have a good time because it keeps them far enough away that I don’t have to share or go into depth about myself the way I used to. This trait combined with anger and cruelty was a detrimental thing both to her and myself. She was someone who cared about me and I knew it in my conscious mind. However I very became defensive any time she tried to probe deeper than what I was comfortable with. It would seem that she is as human as anyone else, no longer able to take abuse for, what she thought was now a lost cause. So she stopped caring unfortunately this was just in time for me to start.
I realized I had been stupid but I was to far down in the hole to dig myself out. It would seem the only other option is to dig my way through al the way to the other side and with any luck find myself back where I started. My anger especially toward her was for a large part unfounded. I was damaged badly but that did not change that I had to be civil and at least try to act human. My own thoughts wont stray from the matter the things that speak to me in my head wont let them. The voices inside of me bicker constantly about it, one of them driving painful spike after spike into my brain about how I made a mistake, I am at fault and there is no way I could ever undo the things I have done. I think of them as the self-flagellation that many extremists do to punish themselves for their sins except instead of destroying my body I am mutilating my mind. They cut into my psyche like razors, one of them destroying because it loves to the other with perhaps the best of intentions however it is said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. The concept of hell is like a lost ruin away from humanity for years. I no longer feel any relation to the religious upbringing I had, which makes me feel like the things I did weren’t my fault. I assumed if I could fall so far from what I once was what was to stop me from sinking even deeper? Why should I be blamed for the circumstances under which I suffered? But those two voices just came back again and again preaching the faults and problems with me and what I did and all things I do now like a hecklers with a megaphone amplifying their speech to a cacophony that rackets around my head. I have a lot of trouble focusing at times due to them, they give me doubt when I should be confident, and they give me sadness when I should be happy they are ever present. I can at times quiet them but they speak up at all the crucial moments so that any facade I place on the outside goes from being made from the hardest stone to the most brittle of glasses. A pin dropped against it will shatter it into millions of pieces.
There are the things that I know I can do. Things I am a natural at or have learned well enough so that I have the ability to teach them. However these voices can give me the shakes when its something I have done millions of times, only because they know that this is the one that counts its not stage fright because it doesn’t necessarily happen when there’s a lot of people. Only when they know it will strike a blow to my core. That is the place they live, the insecurities we all have. They inhabit it like a virus inhabits a host destroying and wreaking havoc until immunities kick it out of the system only this time my immunities don’t know how to fight back, they can only lay down and take an unfortunate beating while the voices have their way. The whole procession can be heard, and they mar my own thoughts and I will still use this as an excuse. However if I can fight them at some times why not others, why do they seem to ebb and flow like the tide. As introspection into what they are (how they came to be is as sure to me as my name) we are like three players in an endless battle. Except the longer the battle rages as with any war the thing you want to conquer gets more and more ravaged what was once a powerful land of bounteous fields and happy people is slowly converted into a wastland where thought is lost easily in never ending wastes of my mind weaving through the labrinthes of thought the stories I have both true and false the things I want and the things I lost the bigger problem is it is like fighting specters ghosts great intangible things that lack a form to fight. There was always one thing that saved me from them the thing that pushed them back to the places of their origions and that was her.
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