Belongings

Sometimes people get so wrapped up in just getting by, they attach a lot of value to the things that they've acquired. These belongings become the things that define their lives, the things that matter most.

Then something happens that damages, ruins the perceived perfection or value in that item. And these people become depressed about their lot in life, simply because of this damage.

Usually such people have few friends or others to confide in. To tell that there's something wrong. To cry to, to complain to, to vent with. So it's let out alone, in self-destructive tendencies, or swallowed.

Sometimes I get indigestion. I rage sometimes... have never been self-destructive.

The bitch of it is, I'm in the middle of an otherwise pretty damn good family get-together. But through my own stupidity, and carelessness, one of my most prized possessions, one of the few things in my life that I'd acquired and meant a huge enough deal to me, gets damaged.

I value my family. I love them. But in my own existence, apart from them, it's a little duller now. And it's not them I'm mad at. It's me. Mea culpa.

Indigestion. I need to find some antacid.

Well, take care.

TTFN