Peeled back another layer of the onion today.

I was pondering things in general, like I do,when I caught a glimpse of something previously unseen.While thinking about my problems in general, I found myself wondering why it was that I couldn’t just settle down and be calm and stable.

And there it was, like a gremlin on the wing of a plane in WWII : the chaotic core of madness that keeps me from having any sort of stability or sanity. The beast that rips apart whatever I try to put together in my mind.

It’s the scared little animal in my mind, crazed with fear and filled with impotent rage, that sees anything that restricts its options as a deadly trap to be attacked and destroy before it kills us.

That’s my primary demon, that psychotic little critter in me. That’s the part of me that is well and truly crazy. That’s the source for all the random urges towards various levels of violence that I have to deal with and suppress on a daily basis. That’s the true power behind my toxic superego’s mad campaign to destroy me.

And it’s the wellspring of all my restlessness. It’s the reason my mind is always searching, always moving, like a hunting shark. It’s what gives me the urge to try to see in all directions at the same time.

It’s the reason why I just keep going. Why I can never just stop and collapse and heal, Maybe even get some goddamned renewal for once in my goddamned life.

Hell, it’s probably a big reason of why I don’t sleep well. How could I, with this foam flecked maniac prowling through mind all the time?

Let’s call it the Blood Weasel.

And it’s the part of me that needs to be talked down and made to feel safe. A frontal assault certainly won’t work. You can’t calm someone down by attacking them.

Not in real life, anyhow.

In fact, I can’t think of a direct way to calm my little critter down at all. It’s certainly not the sort of thing my ‘beat it to death with my brain’ approach to life finds easy. It seems to me like the only approach that might work is something purely emotional, with the heavy instrument of my “brilliant’ intellect well out of sight.

It’s my primary tool in life and yet sometimes it scares the hell out of me. I worry about the damage it could do if I don’t keep it in check. Somehow, it being so big can make me feel quite small.

And I can feel my vastly undernourished id lurking in the background, looking for an excuse to take over and use my mighty machine of a mind to attack the world and force it to give me everything I want no matter who gets hurt.

Even if the person who gets hurt the most is me. Fuck it. There are things far worse than pain and damage, and I live with those things gnawing at my soul 24/7/365.

All those things I have never had : sex, romantic love, a place in society, wealth, status, achievement, the approval of my peers – pretty much the entire hierarchy of needs above the basic survival level – those things are not optional and the lack of them takes deep and personal toll on me all the time.

And only a profoundly and perversely over-intellectual mindset that filters out most input from the body keeps me from being constantly crippled by all the drives and desires that I have denied for so goddamend long.

Well, that and the Blood Weasel won’t let me stop moving. Fucking weasel.

The very thought of trying to untangle that ball of snakes that is my seethingly unfulfilling id intimidates the ever-loving fuck out of me. It’s such a massive problem that it feels like even opening the door a crack to it would destroy me.

Not say it’s true, just saying that’s what it feels like.

I want so much, and with such eye-watering intensity, that I would not know where to start even if someone handed me a million bucks and said “Go fot it!”.

My first thought would be sex. Hot cock on tap, baby. Hire me a brace of sexy male prostitutes and we’d fuck and suck till I was done.

But after that, who knows.

“What kind of guys do I want? I dunno, send me one of everything… ”

My pent up fantasies aside, I suppose all these frustrated urges and instincts are part of what keeps this Blood Weasel (BW) of mind so restless and viscious.

It all seems so vast and hopeless. Intellectually, I know the only way to solve a big problem is by taking it in small bites till you’re done.

But I am too scared to face it. It’s so big and I’m so small and it wants to kill me. I just know it. So all I can do is hide away and hope it goes away.

Even though I know it will never, ever go away and it’s the hiding that’s killing me.

But maybe that’s all bullshit – propaganda my depression puts out to convince me that my problems have no solution so I am better off not even trying.

Maybe the best thing I could possibly do for myself would be to throw open the doors to all my cages and let all my tame beasts free so I can finally find out who I really am without all that chaos and noise in my head.

Maybe even that drooling maniac I have dubbed the Blood Weasel should be unleashed upon the world to find it’s fortune Out There.

But what would it do without me? It wouldn’t know where to go or what to do. IT owld be alone and confused and scared to death out there in the big bad world.

It had better stay here with me after all.

After all, I am the only one that can keep it safe.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow,.