Someone I trust said yesterday that I should never feel like I have a debt to pay for being on this earth. Well I do, sometimes. Why am I here if not for some purpose. I want to leave a legacy that is valuable to humanity as a whole, and I feel a responsibility to do "any good think I can do, or any kindness I can show." that whole long story that that last quotation is from was a part of my primary school motto. It's a burden I can't seem to excape. I'm a good, productive, hard-worker, with a gentle spirit and a loving heart. People who matter to me say I'm attractive, and sometimes I believe them. But I have a whole lot of stuff that's not so nice, or normal, or productive, and that is poisoning a whole lot of the good. Thing is, I don't know how to undo it. Good and bad are so closely entwined, its impossible to fully separate them.
The ironic thing is, that while I'm writing all this on my computer, I keep stopping to encourage an incredibly tallented, but self-doubting friend that I love dearly, and want so badly to help, and the longer I communicate with him, the more my advice makes sense for me. I guess what I was trying to tell him, in paraphrase, and without relaying the whole background necessary for understanding the present exchange, is that anything done thoughtfully has an intrinsic value that can't be replicated by someone with all the technical skill in the world, but not a sincere bone in their body. Still doesn't make sense? deal with it. I'm not writing to make sense to anyone but me.

Ever cared about and respected someone so much that care and respect get entangled with a desire to live through them? I do it all the time. I want the people I care about to be happy so badly, that my happiness becomes, to some extent, dependant on theirs, and I smother them, and completely freak them out. It all becomes so inappropriate, because the only one I should be quite that concerned about should be me, but I project it onto someone else, because caring about me feels narcissistic. I was raised so "well" I can't escape it. I swore really badly today, several times, and it felt so good for a while, and then suddenly, I couldn't do it any more. So I beat the hell out of a piano for a while, and that stopped the tears, and I could go back to being productive and efficient. But pianos are expensive things. the great vast void that I'm sending this into, on the other hand, isn't.