A Gift

Today I was shown great kindness by my sister Kathleen, and I was delighted by it so much it depressed me. I got out of it quickly, but the reaction was troubling. Maybe it was just basic physics. I am sick inside, though, that's plain to see. And the cure? It seems to be a chronic condition, something that I must hide just so I can still be amused by the deplorable conditions I find myself in. How wonderful that I am a great actor, so I can hide my insecurity and deep problems, but then again, I might've been better off if I was openly an emotional wreck, because then someone might've reached out to help me instead of just passing by without a second thought. A few times I've been asked if I needed help, but I always said, "Don't worry about me...I'll be fine," or words to that effect. My brother George never had ay problem expressing himself, but then he was one of the sane members of the family. Undiagnosed mental problems aren't as much fun as one might think, but I think it's better than being diagnosed and thrown into the mental health grinder, given pills and potions and have to interact with others who are totally gone. I'm seeing a lot of that at the homeless shelter, and it is disturbing, though it should be reassuring that there are others who have bigger problems than me. No, I save my thanks to God when I see the blind and those who are missing limbs. When I see them, I know better than to feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I still do. It's mostly because God has given me gifts that I want to share but no one wants them. Just writing that makes me want to cry out loud, but I won't. Maybe I should, but I won't.

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