I just decided. I am not going to feel anything anymore. The therapy people told me to express my feelings, to just feel my feelings and give them voice. Then I would slowly learn that expressing my truest and deepest feelings would not cause me harm.
This is therapy speak. As usual, it’s wrong. The more I express my true feelings, the more fucked up my living gets. Whenever presented, my truest feelings have been largely rejected. Lara likes to argue with them. I shouldn’t feel that. Why can’t I feel some other way. Feelings are never wrong, said my long line of therapists.
I write how I feel about my childhood, about the shit I remember, about my feelings of loss. My family is really pissed off. They accuse me of dwelling in the past, as if I have a choice. I am still that nine year old boy. Don’t they get that? I live in the adult world with the emotional strength of a panicked child.
Most find this unacceptable; to others I serve as some icon of a fucked up person. I’m some guru of depression. Fuck that.
I’m tired. I’ve spent my life writing, expressing, expressing, expressing all of my feelings as honestly as I can muster. Everything I write is “about” how I feel in the moment of composition–about my father, my mother, my sexuality .
I’ve skinned myself raw. I am asking for acceptance because I’m still lost. I’m more alone than ever. I try to deal with old pain and I accumulate more loss. What’s the point? Why bother? The key to happiness is artificial flavors. I should put my disguise back on.
Hi there, my name is Tom Hardie. Welcome to my blog site. I figured I’d take some of my zany life antics and make them more accessible. And it gets me writing, so here I am.
I’ll be writing my observations on everyday life and drawing radical conclusions about nonsense cultural trash that I couldn’t give a fuck about. It’s fun, trust me.
And hey, I’m funny.
Oh and when you least expect it, I might teach you something about life. I’ll make you see things from a new perspective. I’ll talk to you like no one ever has before. I’ll listen to you closely. You won’t believe it. You won’t trust me. I’ll work to win your trust. I will finally win it. You’ll admire me. You’ll look up to me. My example will make you feel strong. I will be your mentor, your hero, your Buddhist therapist guru thing, whatever…but not a person…I am never a person. I have to be strong. I have to show you the way and teach you and help you understand and give, give, give and…
Seriously, fuck you all.