Well, not really. But lately, when little things go wrong, I find myself saying that to myself and so I figure there must be something up down below in the boiler room of my emotions.

I suppose it’s frustration building up like it does with me. No one source, just tiny little things that remind me of how dissatisfied I am with my life and how it’s turned out and where it’s going.

So once more I have that caged tiger feeling. I feel trapped and frustrated and angry at nothing and everything all at the same time. I want to rip my world into tiny pieces so that it can never trap me like this again, ever.

That’s why I often get the idea of smashing my computer when I am in this mood. The sheer amount I depend on this goddamned thing for everything makes me resent it sometimes.

I hate my computer like a junkie hates junk.

And because of that dependence, it often feels like it is this computer and the Internet it connects to that is holding me where I am, where I no longer wish to be, but which I lack the courage, the strength, and the sanity to leave.

And who knows, maybe if I walked away from this damn thing for a while, I would return to it a healthier, hardier person who can better manage his life, and include many things both inside and outside that overheated cranium of his.

But right now, it’s also my lifeline. Blogging and vlogging are what keep me going now. Adding the vlogging component kept this process going for a while. Two months, in fact, and counting. But alreayd I can feel a boredom and frustration building around that, too.

Will I end up having to add a third thing to my routine just to keep up with my ever increasing creative energy output? Perhaps a workout would help me to feel more calm.

Help me blow off some steam and let my boiler cool down to a more workable pressure level.

Or maybe I should just let that pressure build and build until the only way for it to find release is to forge new pathways through the semi-frozen clay of my moribund soul.

Of course, I might well be insane by then, so…. it is not without risks.

But we all know what will really happen. I will just keep mutating in the dark, and hope that one of these forms will be the one that sets me free.

You know what the ultimate pain of it all is? Knowing that I am free. No chains bind me, no locks bar the doors, no brutal guardian keeps me frozen to the spot with fear of reprisal.

And yet, I go nowhere. My brutal guardian is the deep and terrible paralytic fear that stops me cold like I am frozen in place whenever I contemplate truly walking away from my broken cage.

It is that fear and that fear alone that stunts my growth and keeps me down. It keeps me from even promoting the feeble things I do manage to do, because that would mean leaving the comfort and security of the deep dead doldrums, and those sleeping giants inside might wake up and eat me from the inside out.

At least that’s how it feels. It feels like this fear is a finite thing, though, despite being more than I can handle at this point. I feel that over time, I can wear it down, and that this means that, one day, that last bit of ice will melt and all my pent up life force will come forth and make my world bloom with a million colors of joy, and a thousand species of hope.

Until then, all I can do is bail my little boat out as best as I can, and try to warm myself at that tiny little fire deep inside me, that deep down spark that I thought for many years was gone, but like a pilot light it never truly went out.

It just got lost for a while.

So if the madness is upon me and I want to fall about something like a bloodthirsty berserker, it is that permafrost of the soul that I should be tearing apart, hacking into it like there is a hundred million dollars worth of gold at the bottom and my stake runs out at midnight.

It is tricky to remember to aim your anger at your problems. I am so used to taking it out on myself that I forgot that I was even doing that, and for a long time though that was just the way things were.

But it’s not. If you cut your hand, it did not make the world more painful. The world has not changed. It is you who have changed.

And if you are all cut up and cruised and broken inside like I am, that does not mean the world is horrible place simply because it hurts me to touch it.

The world has no nature, opinions, personality, plans, or intentions. It is just the backdrop to life, and you can take or leave whatever you want from it and makes your life into what you want it to be. Not entirely, of course, but enough to change your polarity, if you are willing to pay the price.

And the price, as always, is pain… and change. Cutting out the poisoned parts of yourself is going to be painful, messy, and frightening. You must approach the exercise with the grim determination of a war-weary surgeon who no longer cares about the dainty details of life and only wants to get in there, remove all the necrotic tissue, and leave the patient to recuperate on their own.

Do not be afraid to give up parts of yourself if they are holding you back.

Only when the old flesh dies can the new flesh rise.

And I want to be a new person so badly.