I am really afraid of what will hapen to people if they get too close to me, or I to them.

And I have no idea how reasonable a fear that is. But it is very strong.

I don’t want anyone else to touch my poison. I feel very toxic most of the time. Radioactive, even. Raw plutonium. And my deepest and most potent shame revolves around that toxic burden.

If it was to poison another, I would die of shame. Others, probably healthier people than I, have the option of dumping their evil into others, because they have the luxury of acting purely on emotion, without understanding why, or needing to.

But I don’t have that freedom. I know what is going on. I can forsee the consequences of my actions on a level which is completely invisible for most people.

Lucky me, I know how the sausage is made. Stare long enough into the abyss, and you find out it’s been staring at you the whole time, waiting for you to notice it.

Had therapy today. Talking about recent stuffs. Got some good advice on how to proceed. Better armed that ever.

One thing that came up was how I feel about the whole affair in which I am currently entwined. And I had to tell him that, if things go as they inevitably will, all I can see is it increasing my already considerably bitterness towards the world.

To go someplace where I was sure I would be safe and fit in and to then, through absolutely no fault of my own, be rejected from that group only reinforces the lessons I have learned from a lifetime of being rejected through no fault of my own.

All my life, I have tried to get along, be a nice person, understand people, be a good student, all of that. And all I have ever gotten from it is rejection from most and pity from the rest.

No wonder I think I’m toxic.

Signing up for class required an enormous lowering of defenses. Actually showing up required exponentially more. I was very pleased with the progress I was making socially and emotionally, and looking forward to getting to know these very cool and funny people with whom I thought I had a lot in common.

Depressed and funny? Check and double check.

But no, it appears that even amongst the mentally ill, I will get singled out and rejected. There’s just something about me that threatens and unsettles people to the point of them not being able to cope with me being around.

And I am pretty much done feeling bad about that. I’m far from perfect, but I do everything I can to get along and fit in, and people still can’t fucking handle me. Or respect me, because I’ve been such a fucking pathetic doormat too.

Well from here on in, I am going to hold my head up high, fight for my right to exist as I see fit, and if people still don’t like me, fine.

Better to be loathed and respected than loathed with contempt. I am a force to be reckoned with, and I will use all my considerable powers to make a place for myself in the world, no matter whose toes I have to step on.

I have spent a long long time feeling ashamed to even be alive. Like I never deserved to even be here, let alone take up space and resources that could go to someone who mattered. All my life, I felt like people would be better off without me.

I have never known how to value myself. After all, nobody else did. Where would I have learned? Even my teachers treated me like they didn’t want me around. I didn’t stand a fucking chance.

I didn’t even have Jesus to love me.

Well it’s high time I healed that wound. And if it takes my hopes and dreams crashing to the ground and burning like the fucking Hindenberg to make it happen, so be it.

Sometimes it takes a forest fire before the forest can return to life, fresh and new.

And I know increased bitterness is not the enlightened or correct response, but I honestly can’t imagine any other reaction. I can’t see past this, or around it. The only conclusion I am capable of drawing from this is that I have to go it alone and have nothing to do with others at all, my friends excluded.

Apparently, you have to have some kind of mutant superpower to see my worth and not just be put off my strange, electric vibe and conclude that I think I am better than everyone else simply because you are frightened of me.

I’m done with trying to appear harmless. It’s not working anyhow. People will be scared of the giant no matter how gentle he is. So fine, be scared. Throw your spears at my spaceship. I just don’t give a shit any more.

If I am going to terrify people no matter what, I might as well do it in a way that leaves me with dignity and self-respect. I used to think I had no use for either of those.

But the truth was, I just didn’t think they were an option.

Now, I see that I have nothing to be ashamed of, and that I am entirely capable of fighting on my own behalf, and not just on the behalf of others. I am getting fucked over for no good reason, and I am going to rain hellfire on the person (or people) doing it and make them wish they had not picked on the seemingly harmless guy.

I’m a steam locomotive aimed at the heart of darkness on an expressly express route. I’m a landmine that never stops exploding. I’m the monster lurking in the darkness just outside the path of the righteous. I’m the slow, devastating poison of a bad conscience rotting inside you like last year’s leftovers.

I’m Darkwing Duck.

Let’s get dangerous.

I will talk to all of you nice people again tomorrow.