Just to reiterate, “growing pains are for life and they hurt.”
If I was raised differently I don’t know how I would’ve been able to survive my incoherent random life thus far. Somehow amidst the rough realities of inner city London my mind managed to bubble wrap itself, I guess that’s why the unraveling process has been a sharp and harsh exposure to the pins and prods of the “real world”. I wouldn’t say I’m taking it particularly well seeing as it’s slowly chipping away at me and therefore affecting my character in more negative than positive ways, but yeah, tis life. And we are shaped by it.
Lesson learned: Yes we all (who realise it) have freedom of speech, BUT expect to be held accountable for your words.
At the bottom of my blog page you see “sin noticias de Me” written (no Word from Me, the Me replacing the original title of Gurb). It’s a Spanish book by Edwardo Mendoza I read a while back, and in my current situation I couldn’t help feeling like Gurb (the alien character in the story reported to have disappeared). As well as feeling like the narrator who is looking for him (Me looking for myself) the only difference, “paradoxical” as it is, is that there are many words from me, they’re just typed.
There is something that comes to you after you spend lengthy periods of time by yourself. If you can resist insanity and talking to yourself at non-purposeful intermittent intervals then you can come to a certain self realisation.