Writing Myself Out of Hell

Anonymous nonsensical journal entries during a frightful year of wondering about HIV. 22 year old.

Name:

This is the side of me I can't expose with name attached.

Friday, February 24, 2006

dissatisfied wimps

Jessica of Death writes: "Rent makes me want to move to new york, barely scrape by, become a lesbian, get addicted to drugs, contract AIDS, fall in love, drop out of rehab, live on the street, almost die, but come out happy in the end.
poor, but happy."

I once joked about living on the street as a last resort, and completely offended a woman who had broken free from her 'street life' and started an organization to help others do the same.

Seth Godin's culture of dissatisfaction is all over that. One day I'm so frightened of HIV I can't eat. A few months later I'm equally uptight... I'm HIV-free, but I'm now one class short of getting into the top uni program in my field. Orders of magnitudes difference in seriousness. Decimal-point-differences in emotional reaction. We're all unhappy. Our emotions are hyperbolic. We exaggerate the significance of our decisions because we're afraid of having nothing in our lives that's worth getting seriously depressed over.

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