OH! That 1%. If only I could be real for 100% of the time. Would the grass have been greener for me, my family and friends? I fear it would not, life being life. It is just a rash of wishful thinking.
That gremlin 1% precipitates, spontaneously, while working, knocking out reality in an instant. Like the wind blowing out a candle. Then I find myself trying to make everything right when it is out of my control or has already been accomplished. Very spooky indeed.
This does not inspire confidence in employers or colleagues. Its like letting the side down. The tell tale signs an illness is present. It causes feelings of foolishness and shame. Again, irrationally so. I need to let go of what I erroneously think is right to be free. It makes me sad and useless when I feel I am so badly in the wrong. Out of step and out of time. To the chorus of idiot, clot or ass hole. I am not right obviously.
Making myself right has proved impossible and is a daily strain. Oh dear what am I to do? It evokes tremors of poverty and exclusion. What a peculiar struggle unreality is. So many ugly tormentors in various forms ready to savage and bite at any moment. Yet I continue to love. Surely I am a man by now.
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