What does it mean to make a promise? What does it mean to break a promise? Why can my integrity be used against me? Why do I allow myself to be use this against myself?

These are questions with underlying assumptions. These are just thoughts. As the thoughts are better capable, I become more capable of handling the thoughts for what they are, thoughts.

I'll take a minute to address the overloaded mind. I believe I was emotional and driven to the point of madness. I drove myself to this madness. Or maybe the madness found me with unanswered questions, more questions than what I could possibly have the answers for, and questions upon questions without any direction of the answer. The urge to crawl out of my skin and out of my mind are overwhelming at times. The keyboard is my refuge. I may seem polished in pictures. But let me assure you, the crazy lurks underneath. I was so good at hiding it... LOL. I won't lie to myself here. I made limited efforts at hiding the crazy. I also didn't now that certain aspects of life require the crazy; those situations are where the crazy is a strength. I like the crazy, sometimes. Other times, I had thought to use a permanent solution to that temporary problem. Permanent solutions to fix external, passing situations feels like the reactions I so hate. The temporary reprieve is a place of comfort, and the likeness to myself is beyond recognition. I don't recognize myself in those moments. I fought against the back and forth torture. I leaned in and stopped fighting. I surrendered. I fought again. I fight and lose. I surrender and lose. I win and lose. I can't win for losing the battle. I might make an assertion that is limited by my current understanding. And the problem is the vacuum of the mind.

I share with others to check myself. I am not sure where I am allowed to think certain things or which of those things might land me in the mental hospital, judged, labeled, and committed to a place that is for the mind, a different kind of reprieve. I'm not sure those words make sense. I am rambling again. If the words string together in coherent-ish format, at least I am halfway to presenting information.

Of all the drugs, love is the worst. Let me smoke some herbs and chill baby. Hey, sweetheart, smoke shower bed...

That brings me to tears. It is something special. I never wanted those good days to end. They have been my most favorite of all days. I don't care for much else than the love I felt. Love is a wonderful thing. It's dangerous though, it makes me blind.

I keep remembering things. I am asked a question, I remember a thing. I was asked if I was ever hit. I couldn't remember an instance of actual hitting. But do I remember any instances of physically violent behavior? I do. I remembered a moment, and I question the memory. Did that happen? Did someone throw something at me? Maybe. I can't remember exactly. (was something thrown at me and hitting the door instead of me? was it a hairbrush? did I return and say, "whoa, what was that?" Did I make this up?) (the person I told this to labeled it as abuse. they also went on to talk about protest behavior. they also later said they don't like labeling people, which made me laugh pretty hard because they had just labeled this person they don't know. I defended the thrower, I questioned my memory. I also thought, "oh man, that's some people shit of being inconsistent."). I want to ask the person who was there about my memory. I am not placing all the trust in my memory. I have nothing else. I don't have a written record. I am now writing a bit more to keep the written records. I have the receipts today lol. Nah, I don't keep score. I practice "goldfish mind." I carry a small rubber eraser in the pocket of a jacket. It is in the shape of a fish. It is there to remind me, "mind of a goldfish." I don't need to remember it all. I can keep going. I can forget (but the body and mind never truly forget).

Keeping score is terrible. I didn't realize I was supposed to keep score or a written record. I didn't know it would turn into a competition where the one who has the records, even faulty records, prevails because of my goldfish mind. I forgot it and kept going. Kept the focus on just keeping the thing going. The point of the game was to keep playing. I kinda thought I was doing that. I can't say now what I was doing. I have been neck deep in the shit trying to figure out what I did. I forgot about all of it, and I'm not recalling in bits. I am not certain about much I have done. I also know that as soon as I make one assertion, that I am liable to learn or remember something that causes a new decision to be made. I can accept, sometimes. I can't accept, sometimes. This is the duality of man. A hateful person and a loving person. If I have the capacity for love, I am automatically endowed with the capacity for hate. Fine line between the two, and two sides of the same coin. Hand in hand, just as the sun and the moon exist at opposite ends. And just like the sun and moon, they can exist at the same time, on the same day, one bright, one muted, the other shining through all the while. They exist in me. I am not the one to say how it exists for others. I can only say my mind is both and neither, and seven other things, like the pointillism of a Seurat painting, the dots of color making up each larger block of color. From afar it appears to be one, and only upon close inspection can I see the several different dots making up the larger block. It is not one thing, but a thousand little things. Zooming out and zooming in, never settling on any one dot, no one word, nor one chapter can be said to define a book, no one moment can be said to define a person. I am not static, far from it actually. I am fluid in my feelings from moment to moment. I am shifting in my thoughts. I am never settled. It is never the final decision. It is only the decision for now, until I learn something that allows me to make a new decision.