Quote:
Originally Posted by TLight  I used to work as a checker in a grocery store in a 'community' in Seattle. Everyone would come through my line around holidays and ask, "What are you doing Terri?" I'd make up stories so I wouldn't look like a freak, or so they wouldn't feel sorry for me and invite me over. I wouldn't have been able to take that at that time, I was just struggling to hang on to reality and my boss was stalking me.
Anyway, I have a fantasy of living like a recluse and just meditating the rest of my life. And writing poetry. Just make my purpose thinking of God. A monk of sorts.
So far,don't mind being alone. But I just got out of some dysfunctional crap that hurt me again.
But being a Monk does appeal to me. Just belonging to God. I guess it's safe.  |
I understand EXACTLY how you feel. The only people I talk to are my doctors, my sister and husband and son (whom I live with), and the girl I go swimming with. I go to places, like school, but I
rarely speak to anyone.
I don't belong here. Right now, I am trying to work myself up to get my own place. I am doing this why. I mean, do I really want a place or am I trying to arrange being a recluse?
People hurt. They make me hurt. It's hard to look at them in the eye because I am scared of what I will see there. God saved me. I am alive today. That is the only thing that keeps me going.