I Hate My Mind. I Love My Mind.

mymind.jpgI love to hate things. I also hate to love things. Like, let me channel my rage into things from which most people derive joy. Also, don’t make me admit the things to which I am emotionally attached. The same holds true for my mind. I am in an abusive relationship with it.

It’s constantly gas-lighting and manipulating me, but I’ve developed Stockholm Syndrome I guess because my biggest fear is somehow losing my mind – not in a psychotic sense but in a literal why tf did my mind leave me sense. I appease most of its urges so it doesn’t fill me with an unbearable amount of anxiety and existential dread, and as much as I hate it, I love it. And as much as I love it, I hate it.

Most of the time, I feel like I am one, giant meme. Like, my mind is always conveying existential truisms of sorts but in a really ass backwards, mentally ill, darkly humorous way.

Also, it keeps me alive and conscious – albeit against my will at times – so it behooves me to at least be somewhat attached to it even if I usually express desire to liquefy it a la mummification techniques or to be put in a medically-induced coma.

Plus, I am not free of blame when it comes to abuse. I don’t exercise, hydrate adequately, eat well, or curb substance abuse unless my life literally depends on it (like right now, for instance). But presumably, we’re stuck with each other, but we’re also the same thing like a Holy “Binity” or something (wow, I finally understand religion). It’s like any unhealthy love story, I guess.

So on that uplifting note, here is a song:

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