God made the Internet for people like me

I'm supposed to be starting a new blog (or in this case, recycling an old, unused one) where I talk about me in a way that will be help somebody help me figure out what I need to do to be ok.

And why would somebody help me? Because they'd be paid to do it. Either that or they're really, really kind-hearted.

Why here, for everyone else to see? Because it's convenient, and it's anonymous unless I choose not to be (who the hell would go out of his way to figure out who wrote this piece of shit?), and it's not uncool to do it online (as opposed to keeping a notebook diary, which is cool only if you use one of those super cute super expensive notebooks), and because I like it here. It feels good to do it, right here.

It's hard to write about my pain when I'm feeling it, partly because I get incoherent, and partly because I just want to stop feeling it and start forgetting about it. Plus, my low self-esteem wouldn't stop pestering me: if I personified it and gave it a dialogue, it would say something to the effect of, "Nobody cares what you feel, so shut it."

I have so many issues, I've wasted so many tissues. I remember posting something like that on facebook. A lot of my status messages are similarly negative, and by virtue of where they were posted, meant to elicit sympathy from people I know. Attention-seeking behavior, perhaps?

ADHD or Attention Seeking - Ways of Distinguishing Two Common Childhood Problems by Dr. Nigel Mellor has helped me sort of put my attention-seeking into perspective. The good news is that I'm not the problematic type of attention-seeker. I get lumped among those who crave attention because they are normal (in that respect at least). In other words, my behavior isn't attention-seeking in the Psychiatric sense of the word (as far as my uninitiated mind can tell).

I used to sense it whenever I switched back, from being clever, creative, and lively to being dull and clumsy and totally fucked up. It was premonition born of expreience. I knew in my heart that everything that could go wrong would go wrong, as it seemed that even my luck would turn. That was how I felt, back then. I don't feel that way anymore, but I can still remember the feeling of dread, of being doomed, of helplessness and hopelessness.

In a sudden flash of creativity, I came up with a poem.

God made the Internet for people like me

God made Email for us to send
He made Facebook so we can pretend
He made The Internet

For those who don't have friends
It's a means to an end
Or a means to the end
Or a means to help mend
When you can't delete but can only append
When you only wish to blend
When you cannot do but can only intend.