the opiate of fools

ok, so i spent the morning reading my own words and then wrote (evaluated and confronted) myself and how i let the arm injury happen and escalate to this point where i am not keeping it as immobile as possible and foresee doing that for at least a week... you can read the self-talk and find the links to the facts here... it's a cold slap in the face but i've gotten so used to ... desensitized... insensitive... it's a sad and ugly story, really... disgusting at times, torture and damnation, even illegal in parts...

but never you mind that old thing, after all, wasn't this process a whole lot more pleasant when i was remembering music and asking where are you?...

ah, self-mockery, the opiate of fools... brilliant fools, but still fools... anger and self-loathing and fighting is the opiate of the dumber fools, like most people... which explains why there are so many wars... not everybody goes completely mad though and becomes a hitler though, lucky for the rest of us... or a manson, for that matter... or even the run of the mill murderer... so anyway, i pay the price reluctantly and shall do my best to not move the arm, which means try to remember to move it as little as possible... stay consciously aware of it at all moments every moment all the time... is anyone consciously aware of anything at all moments every moment all the time?... of course not, that is why there are casts, slings, straight jackets, and prison cells...

oh, such drama... i really must be addicted to the emo, aye?...