Minding the Tennyson’s dog, Rose, for the week but at my own house which is cool. Home comforts and what have ya. Yup, it’s all going as normal as can be outside of my head, really, and I am trying to hold myself together with it but, then, it’s OCD and it’s, well, always there – the imbalance. I’ve gone and done all that I truly can do with it. I’ve watched it all happen around me. I’ve tried to expose myself to the ridiculous themes that have taken almighty grip inside of my head and am even left perplexed as to why these are even the OCD themes in the first place. I am proud, and I am utterly ******* focused as anyone can attempt to be, but I’m still losing a whole lot of time and potential with this thing. I accept that too. I accept it all. I accept, as I’ve said before, the utter, utter mental bombardment of chokehold and walked with it like no-one’s business, really. I’ve even analysed the analysing of the distorted… bloody analysing, and what is a brain supposed to do when it isn’t being utterly, utterly bombarded at the core of its being? Beats the hell outta me. As I said, I’m doing everything I can to not, well, let it take me over time again. The shitstorm of distortion it weaves really is all-encompassing. It’s the level of damn symmetry involved which comes from the endless imbalance met with mental distortion. Trying to make sure everything is in fact OKAY in the first place. Like.. how on Earth am I wrong to be this way in the mind if it is all that my boggled brain ever really finds itself doing? Perplexingly perverted, for sure, but I hold onto all that I’ve got and all of the damn time. As I’ve also said before, I am not in any way angered, in any way… bitter. This is so because I have done a million times more than enough to hang in there. And that really is its own incredibly invisible backstory of… upside-down success. Since the age of eleven! So how come I can still be humorous even when it is bombarding my everything? Maybe because I’ve learned to make my mind dip into different levels, or layers rather, of mental calm. And that sentence even boggles me. But not really either, to be fair. Hmm… . Most sentences can end up boggling my mind to some extent, really. Mainly, though, because, yeah… it’s a bloody mental-illness, of course. But why is it a particular mental-illness which doesn’t get to allow the sufferer, even for a logical-thinking second, believe that it is in-fact all of it illogical – right the way through? I can ask a million more questions and I can explain it ‘til left blue in the face, but it’s still seemingly gonna be just this goddamn disorder for my mind and brain. I’m watching ‘Brilliant Minds’ – a really great series on The Dodgy Box about a seriously issue-strewn Neurologist who thinks outside of the box in the most, well, yeah… as the title says ‘brilliant’ way. His mind is his and mine is mine, obviously, and neither is mine in any way brilliant like his… OBVIOUSLY… yet I can even get myself mixed-up in these kinds of shows in, I guess you could say, thinking how would I help myself in these characters situations if I was, say, caught in one of their ‘dire’ situations. “That doctor missed an appointment so the repercussions would be devastating… if I didn’t figure out how they wouldn’t in-fact end up being devastating… for me. It’s all distorted and it’s all… over the place askew, is my brain and mind, and, as I said, that’s fine too. But even the distortion makes zero sense in dragging me back through situations with my own day wherein… the money fear has engrained a level of distorted belief that, well, I fall immediately back into when most things happen. Involving money, absolutely. Involving everything really at this stage, seeing as I’ve spent so many damn decades trying to figure out what the **** is wrong with my mind and brain in the first place to be ‘thinking’ this way. Fed Rose, took her for a good walk around the circle and home again. She’s happily chilling in the hallway, and I might like to grab a few cans of beer but, then, that will undeniably bring me right back into the mentally engrained distortion and then I buy the beer believing that something is off kilter and that will mean eventual devastation. Eventual… homelessness, even. Those decades-long mentally engrained ******* beliefs that have somehow piled themselves atop of the other are just, let’s say, waiting to drag my mind back into its grasp. No, I don’t really understand that this is all a mental ****-up simply because… it’s ALWAYS THERE IN MY BRAIN AND, THEREFORE, MIND as well and ready to wreak previously… ‘planned’, it seems, havoc of habit. I don’t wanna explain it to myself every damn day, even if in many ways I do indeed need to, that the strength of the beast that I am dealing with. I know I can take so very much stuff on, probably to an extremely non-stop and highly energetic and productive and even functional extent, and maybe I do, just that it stands in the way in an unbelievably distorted manner, for myself at least, and that’s… wow, that’s… flabbergasting, and impressive as hell as well. No doubt in the world about that particular thing, really. So you have to take the whole thing on and turn it into own big mental lie, is what I am saying. As it all absolutely is just that very thing – a mental lie. The most time-consuming lie… EVER!!