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I've been on some sort of high lately. The past few days anyway. Of course, for me being in an amazingly good mood means going out once or twice to see people I'm extremely comfortable with and not hating anyone or myself for most of the day. Released from my self-loathing, I fill like a balloon with love and light utnil I think I'll burst. In this manner, I may feel unbridled happiness for up to 6 hours at a time. After that, doubt begins to creep back in, doubt and reality and a shirt that doesn't fit and I can't find any socks and I'm going to be late for work and who the fuck cares, why, what is the fucking point. why.

You'll notice I have nothing to say when I'm in a good mood. Nothing to write about. It's because I stop thinking--I'm left with nothing to express, nothing that claws at me to get out.

In many ways, happiness is the closest I ever get to death.

I was raised on the idea of an afterlife, of heaven. It was hard for me not to think of death as a reward. I didn't understand why we had to go through life, just to die. I didn't understand why I couldn't just die now, if I had to do it anyway.

It's still not something I can totally grasp.