In a month, it will have been two years since I've had peace of mind. Worried about what will come, what could be, and what has gone. Sometimes I am sure that I will fail, others I KNOW that I will.
I am lucky in so many ways, I count my blessings in relation to impoverished nations, and know that I could never be as strong as a man who grew up eating dirt patties and reading American pamphlets dropped from the sky about safe sex. When I think of how grateful I am, I become depressed about my fucking nerve to be depressed, and then I get depressed about the fact that I am depressed over being depressed.
Pretty soon these thoughts will fa