Going to bed unsettled and pissed off is never good. Waking up to find them still talking about you in the morning is enough to provoke anyone to outrage. Have the common courtesy and decency to tell me

Yes, I've gotten lazy. My work ethic and concentration are for shit. Avoidance, I can't deny. I know I'm horrible at lying, that I cause people to worry, that I can be direspectful but it's rarely, if ever, intentional. I can't wake up in the morning or hold firm deadlines to save my life. I get sick easily, and I don't feel it. Depression I don't notice and an impulsiveness with food I can't seem to break. Morbid procrastination will be my death knell, that is if the extra stress and overthinking don't get to me first.

I'm not an especially wonderful person, and can get acerbic, sarcastic and unfunny as fast as when I'm not. I get awkward when conversation lulls and I must have hallucinated most of my past because no one will admit to any of it ever happening.

At least I have the spine to admit it.

Done running away. Done hiding since I was shoved into a closet of cluelessness. The sheep being led to the shed out back. All because I wanted them to stay. Like some charmed sitcom family, where no one moves and feel-good lessons are learned so that they can have a goddamned group hug as a finale.

If you want to buy a new house, do it. Just don't expect my accounts to be dragged in unless I'm making some decent money. The money I have isn't mine, so is the stuff spent on vacation. It's only mine in name, and what have I ever done to deserve a single cent that was thrown at me? Worse, simply to solve my problems. Or equally as wrong, using me to ease their unsubtle squirreling away of money.

The slacker. I don't do chores, help cook, clean or pay the bills. I just sit here on my ass losing hair and gaining only bitterness, making things people don't care, for saying things better left unsaid. All that seems to matter is diagnosis and a name. Hers is solvable, and I have yet to find a cause. I'm trying to find a way to fight it, and it might take the rest of my life, degrees, politics, social flirtations be damned.

None of us are polished or pretty. That's the point. Who are you to cast dispersions on me, when you have faults of your own to address.

Helping each other grow doesn't mean tearing new wounds and opening old ones, and leaving them to heal on their own. If you don't have anything helpful, don't say or do a thing. I don't need pestering or being browbeat into things I have no real sway in. All that's needed is patience and support.

I'm on my last line of defense. And if that goes, I don't know where I'll be.

Keith