Love Bites
no, not really; that's just a ridiculous title from a 1980's-era "Def Leppard" song.
but seriously, i'm learning how important it is to be selective about whom i love, and when and where and in what context, in order to minimize pain.
love is an art, it seems, and must be treated with respect. it isn't and should not be destructive or painful, but i'm a novice.
jealousy is a corrosive acid, however, for which i have no antidote and against which I have no defense.
yuck. from where does it come? rooted in fear, but there must be something else, too.
jealousy that others have what i don't and have always longed for. sadness at feeling left behind. wishing i had what i want and have always wanted, and probably would have had were it not for bipolar.
feeling permanently separated from meaning and from the life that is mine, from opportunities with my name inscribed in them that are forever stolen and lost.
i am afraid to strike out on my own, but i simply must. i learned that at harvard. however hard it is now, i will look back and wish i had done it much sooner. i learned that at harvard, too.
mike ty was at harvard the same summer i was, and he ended up going to med school there. i still cannot believe he's dead. such a bright light that burned out so quickly--and i'm supposed to find meaning in this life?
but seriously, i'm learning how important it is to be selective about whom i love, and when and where and in what context, in order to minimize pain.
love is an art, it seems, and must be treated with respect. it isn't and should not be destructive or painful, but i'm a novice.
jealousy is a corrosive acid, however, for which i have no antidote and against which I have no defense.
yuck. from where does it come? rooted in fear, but there must be something else, too.
jealousy that others have what i don't and have always longed for. sadness at feeling left behind. wishing i had what i want and have always wanted, and probably would have had were it not for bipolar.
feeling permanently separated from meaning and from the life that is mine, from opportunities with my name inscribed in them that are forever stolen and lost.
i am afraid to strike out on my own, but i simply must. i learned that at harvard. however hard it is now, i will look back and wish i had done it much sooner. i learned that at harvard, too.
mike ty was at harvard the same summer i was, and he ended up going to med school there. i still cannot believe he's dead. such a bright light that burned out so quickly--and i'm supposed to find meaning in this life?
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