Tatters

I'm not working right now because I can't pull myself into the right frame of mind, so to speak. I'm in tatters. My brain broke. Before my brain broke, I worked a lot. I worked A LOT and then I went insane. It took nine years, but what I want to figure out (in therapy every week) is why I stayed in such a toxic situation for so long. They say my nightmares and panic attacks indicate PTSD. I think I did this to myself. I willingly let a small, annoying little man drive me slowly mad, I went insane, and now my life is in tatters. Tatters is where I've ended up. It's almost funny because Tatters is where I began fifty years ago, and it's tatters scattered and strewn fifty years behind. Can this pile of smithereens become a whole Person again?

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Imperfection is beauty

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” —Marilyn Monroe

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