May 2006

...I also had a conversation that was the most interesting because for the first time today I found myself crying. Because he was forcing me to see reality, not only that, but he reminded me a lot of someone else I know. He reminded me a lot of me.
Tonight was one of those chilly rainy nights. I got back inside from being on the front porch for a few hours. I sat in a swing wrapped in a big comforter, watching the blinking lights, (Since it's all I can really see anyway) and listening to the rain.
I started to do a lot of thinking.
I thought for one how my grandma would kill me if she saw me smoking, and then I thought about my grandpa sitting next to me, and I figured he would understand.
Then I laughed because I thought of how against it I used to be...but I suddenly found it in this moment to be therapeutic. I calmed down a lot.
So then I thought about change. Not if I like change, or if I don't like it, but that life forces you to appreciate it. I got in touch with myself tonight. I felt a lot like the old me. But at the same time, I've been through so much since then, I really felt like a new me.
I've met a lot of fascinating people in my life, and they have come and gone but always left an impression, and that is what's important. You are fascinating. You left an impression on me. You've came, you're not quite gone, but whatever happens isn't important. What's important is what I've learned along the way.
I realize now that I've changed a lot in the past weeks, and I've been in denial because I don't particularly like how I've changed. I realized this the other night when I found myself completely smashed but telling people that I'm really a smart girl. I had to tell them because I didn't feel like who I was, I felt like I was being an idiot. I don't like that.
You may have changed in your own way, we all do. And I appreciate that as well. Someone mentioned tonight that I have a lot of hope, and I do, which is why I told him I am trying so hard not to fight. When we feel like we have nothing else, we have to have hope. And perhaps I have hope that you'll change you're mind, you'll see things differently, maybe you'll see me how you use to again. But I told him there is one thing more important to me right now, and that is to respect your wishes. He surprisingly said that I have to fight, you have to fight for what you love, that's life. Even so, I said no, because it's not about me. It's about me really wanting you to be happy, whether I'm what makes you happy or not. And I realized then, I thought about all the times I wondered if I was really in love with someone- it occurred to me that I fought back then, I fought for my pride, I fought for comfort, I fought for what I thought I wanted....but I didn't think about what was best for him. I was selfish.
So I realized tonight sitting on my porch thinking back through what I said. I've learned something surprisingly important. I've learned what love really is. It's when you can finally have the courage to be completely selfless, because you care enough about someone else more than yourself. And the fact that I made the decision to let you do what you need to do to make you happy.
I've won something better than I would have if I would have chose to fight this. I won respect for myself, because I've finally answered my question as to what it really means to truly love someone. It means let them go if they want to go, let them live their life how they want- it means to set them free.
So in the end, I don't know if I'm quite happy, but I'm content. And I'm happy with myself.

I painted an angel tonight.

It was a blue angel, shades of blue. And it had its head in its hands crying. I didn't even feel sad then, I just painted what I didn't know was in my heart. I called it my "angel of anxiety"...

I find it ironic, because a few hours later I found myself next door. Conveniently there is a church next door, clinging to a set of black rosary beads and leaning against the church door in the rain, crying and praying because I don't know what else to do. I suppose I fabricated my own broken angel.

I'm not even Catholic, I guess the beads were just me clinging to hope.

When you feel empty, when you feel hopeless, when you feel alone, where else do you turn?

There are only a few times in my life where I abandon my usual stubborn pride and find myself asking God for help, admitting that I can't get by on my own, admitting that I don't have all the answers, admitting that I need him.

I always said that you know where your heart really lies in your darkest hours. When you have no where else to turn.

I wish I would learn to remember that always.

And that rain, it's been raining for five days. I know the last time I was in this position, it rained for seven days. Liz said it wouldn't stop raining because I was so sad.

It's suppose to rain all week.

Convenient.

I know more than anyone that you cannot change fate. Fate is what it is.

I can lie on the floor, I can cry, I can sleep to avoid the pain I feel, all things things I want to do. But I'm not going to.
Because tomorrow, the sun will rise.
Tomorrow other people will need my prayers more than I do.

Tonight I'll pray but not just for me, for once I won't be selfish.
I'll pray for those I've hurt, for those who've hurt me, and for those who need it most.

Life goes on, but not alone.

----------------

Impending sense of doom

or....impending sense of entrapment.

I was talking about trust the other night, and I've realized there is only one person I've ever met in my life that I completely trusted...and under the circumstances, I'm not sure why...

I had an interesting relationship a while back, of which I've thought a lot about lately.

A lot of good things came out of that relationship.
Conversation
Inspiration
Encouragement
Philosophy...

It's not that I miss this specific relationship...but I miss these things.

I seem to have found a dire need for conversation lately...not just casual conversation...there are just some things you want to talk about, because you have to, because you need to in order to realize who you are...but unfortunately I've come to accept, that receptors for this sort of thing are lacking....and I am craving it.

I write letters instead. Letters to add to the many other letters unsent. Letters I've never had any intentions of sending...letters I've written since my preteen years...journal pages filled, but everyone addressed....to the people I love, to my father, to God....Letters filled with questions that I ask, knowing I will receive no answers. No answers from the person I'm writing, since they will never read it. But at the same time, this is exactly how I find those answers...

Back in my days filled with chemical imbalance, I went through a lot of counseling. Not because there was anything wrong with me...I was just a young girl to curious and to...discontent with what I knew. Or to discontent with what I wanted to know. I wouldn't say I was pessimistic, just uneasy with living life in blind happiness when there was so much sadness in the world. I felt guilty for every smile.

That wasn't the point. The point is that I like to learn...and I had all ready pre-read my aunts book titled "The Art of Counseling". One of the key things I remembered that I always found ironic was when the book explained that one of the keys to effective counseling, is silence. I remember sitting in the dim office of my first counselor....while he asked me one single question and just listened to me talk. When I was done talking we'd just sit there, and he would look at me without saying a word. I guess if you've never been lucky enough to enjoy the experience of counseling....you would expect questions, why's, and what's...who's...But that's not how it works.
During one of these moments of silence I started smirking, and I told him that I knew what he was doing...he asked me to explain...

"The key to counseling is silence, you let a person talk and when they're done you say nothing, because this gives them the opportunity to delve into their inner thoughts and in turn solve their own problems."

He was impressed, but what a waste of money.

So that's it, that right there is the point to the letters. I write, as if I were talking to someone else...but then I just read over them...and I realize what I'm actually saying. I realize what I want to hear. I find answers to my own questions.

But I'm bored...for the sake of expanding philosophy I need someone for discussion. I miss that.

I find that you can spend (or waste) a lot of time trying to impress people. I know I've had a habit of selling myself. It was like a sales pitch when I'd meet someone, I had to convince them of my talents, or my finer points. It really took me awhile to realize it was sad and a waste of time. I stopped selling myself to people...eventually they are going to find out who I am, what I'm about, my strong points, my weak points...everything. I can try to pitch anything I want, if it's not me...they are going to find out....if it is me, why bother....if they are important they will be around long enough to find out anyway.

This is where encouragement collides with inspiration...

There are a lot of things I know, or can do...that others can't. But then again, a lot of others can also do those same things better than me. I suppose it's just how you choose to live your life. Either backing down and saying well I'm not the best, so why bother? Then sometimes all it takes is one person in your life to encourage you....to say why don't you do this, try this, do it....do it...do it. They make it sound like there are so many opportunities out there...all you have to do is have the courage to make it happen. The person who has encouraged me the most is also a person that I once said couldn't face reality....he was to busy living in a world he created, that he couldn't keep his feet on the ground. Maybe that's one way to look at it....but then again there are other times where I see what he's doing and I am a little jealous....but really proud. That person is a rolling stone...he was born to be, and he won't die happy unless he goes out and sees the world and exercises his talents to their fullest potential. Those are the kinds of people we need....they come, they go...they roll right through your life, but somehow they manage to leave an impact on you that you will never forget, even if it was there for the briefest of moments.

I guess tonight was one of those nights where I was feeling kind of lonely...craving conversation, and these other things I miss. But I remember all my old conversations, and I remember someone telling me to get out of here, that I don't belong here....that I'm meant to go out and see the world and learn as much as I can and write about it and meet new people, and learn, and teach, and live.

Sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my time here.

Then I know that tomorrow morning I will wake up and my day will consist of laughter, it will consist of smiles, it will consist of many moments of happiness, just like all of my days. I need to start somewhere, and I suppose that there is no point in being discontent with where you are. There are a lot of people here to meet, with a lot of stories to tell. So despite the fact that I may feel a little left behind, that I'm behind in school because of my timing and general aggravation and disinterest...I am content.

My grandma told me that God never gives us more than we can handle...

Let's plunge ourselves into the roar of time, the whirl of accident; may pain and pleasure, success and failure, shift as they will -- it's only action that can make a man.

GOETHE

Insanity's Ledge

Insanity's Ledge

by Odante

"As I approach insanity's ledge, its poised demeanor listens for me to cry. I, sensing its presence, try to calm myself by thinking good thoughts of insensitivity. Peering out beyond the horizon, I see my Doctor, reaching for me as he explains my condition in terms of sanity's kin. How odd, I think to myself, how odd that this educated morsel of humanity cannot deduct from me a simple clue, to measure me with a foreign rule, expecting thus a result, how odd I say, how odd indeed.

To my fellow, I call out, "Do not come hither, for it is not a happy way, but a way of senseless destitute." Some follow still, and some do lead, but difficult it is, to find one as distant or as close to the ledge as I. There is fear in my voice, as it trembles under the snowy birth of hindsight, "What was I thinking, what was I thinking when I thought those thoughts?" I am a coward. My own mind brutalizes me frequently. I am not a victim. I am in Hell.

Today was bright. I was happy. It did not last. I thought those thoughts again; I thought those thoughts of killing. Damn you, damn you for being in my head. Instead, I will think of nothing. My medications buzz me down to null, and somewhere in between I lose myself; eventually I am there again, standing at the ledge. I step closer, careful not to slip, maybe I can climb in slowly, and maybe say bye to friends; maybe I should quit fooling myself.

I try to remember a time before, when I walked a path less cumbersome; I cannot. My mother used to hold me, when I could not understand. The world seemed afraid. At some point I lost my way, and, hypnotized by the beauty of the setting sun, I heard a fellow call out, "Do not come hither, for it is not a happy way, but a way of senseless destitute," yet I followed, foolishly thinking myself above others, and therefore, able to lend a hand. As I approach the ledge, I see none. A voice calls out behind me, offering a helping hand, a fool no doubt.

Standing now at the ledge, I see my happiness. Happiness full of misconceptions of reality and unhindered corruptions of thought; such freedom I have reached, as I step into the abyss. "What was I thinking?" I say to myself, as I realize there is no return. To my fellow, I call out, "Do not come hither, for it is not a happy way, but a way of senseless destitute." It is too late, the fool is at the ledge."

All of this sounds to scarily familiar to my own thoughts. Maybe that psychologist was right back in the day? Maybe not. Maybe sometimes he is. I don't know. All I know is that either way, not a good sign. I'm not a nihilist, its just a temporal condition from time to time- an oscillation. I love the line, "Do not come hither, for it is not a happy way, but a way of senseless destitute." It is too late, the fool is at the ledge." Reminds me of a Nietzsche quote I also like:

"HE WHO FIGHTS WITH MONSTERS SHOULD LOOK TO IT THAT HE DOES NOT BECOME A MONSTER...WHEN YOU GAZE LONG INTO THE ABYSS THE ABYSS ALSO GAZES INTO YOU..."
-Nietzsche

Yes well, maybe a future topic for elaboration, but not now. Just a thought.

ps. Don't worry though, I don't have thoughts of killing people. Well, metaphorically maybe, not literally.

The lover and The Enemy

"life and death favor and disgrace praise and blame success and failure all of these conditions confuse and dismay us because they are the same ailment" -Lao-Tzu


love
is the easy zephyr dancing on the branches of a Judas tree
careful not to disturb the peace of the resting enemy
moves

hate
is the fire that burns at the feet of the martyr
burning with equal an ardor
as the wind blows

kiss
the lover is an enemy
the enemy is the lover
the sun rises

Stoned

I think the title explains it all, lord knows I can't)

I'm also thinking about sex because that feels sinful.

Someone should wash my eyes out with soap.

Ever since i've closed my bedroom door everything has felt better.

G

i

r

a

n

a

m

o

look out below

somehow the most amazing things are hidden under piles of

nothing

Everyday I am battling the dead for my life.

Thee only thing that can kill darkness is light, anyway.

This is not however, the greatest thing ever believed

despite contrary misconception in perception

I couldn't have said it better myself

I swear by the stars, salmon and bologna are not equivalent.

If you think everything I do is cute you are a s i c k fuck.

This is not cute.

This is a symptom of DISEASE.

Not here

but Bombs are bursting.

G

A

Y

~

!

Our eyes are suddenly awake to the rain

there is no looking glass large enough to oppress our eyes

as the phantasmal justice of america

...

Somewhere, toast is rising

and why is pizza so important to us anyway?

Ive scrubbed myself raw but im too distracted by flames to notice even a difference

I am so disgusted.

My aquatic nature will not let me rest

It is a ferocious matter to be this unforgiving.

To show any emotion is to claim ownership

I am fully aware that I own nothing

even less than that

I will be your counsel

but know that I do not counsel myself

my opinion is everywhere, my practice is nowhere

and there is someone preaching out of the corner of my eye

ive never known any less than anne frank

I can be paranoid too

...afterall.

I told you guys.

As if my cynical laughter drowns out any real warning

this is urgent

you hear but you dont listen

you speak but you dont say anything

well, do it

by all means

who am i to say otherwise, afterall.

Moreso, who am I to approve?

Sorry to ruin the ending

but this will end like all others.

The end.

Letter to my Father

An excerpt from a recent letter to my father. He's a doctor of theology, in case you're wondering why any one would talk to their father about this kind of stuff. I think I brought up some decent points though.

"...Also, I came across this website by a doctor named J. Dominguez. He had notes on Annihilation, which drew my attention since I've been labeled a 'nihilist' by a philosophical friend. This captured my attention and I wondered whether, being of the same profession, you agree or disagree? I think, the application of nihilism is misinterpreted in many cases, such as mine, and the following:

" 1- The first aim of most Oriental religion is salvation from Reincarnation, including Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Taoism...

The greatest fear for them is not to die, but to reincarnate... all the ascetic sacrifices, all the hard yoga and puja practices, is to avoid reincarnation... to live nude or without food of a Jainist is to avoid the next reincarnation... the great sacrifices of a Buddhist in a monastery for life, is to obtain enlightenment, thus avoiding reincarnation...

2- Nihilism is the final aim of these religions with "moska", the final union of their soul with Brahman, with no more reincarnations.

And the main problem of these Eastern religions, what makes me cry, is that after so many sacrifices and yoga, this final union with Brahman, this "moska" is like a drop of water falling into the ocean, there is no more identity of any individual, there is no more "person", it is the nihilism, personal annihilation, to become nothingness, unrecognizable by anybody, not even by himself, because there is no more "self", no more consciousness of being... not heaven, not paradise... "nothingness", "to disappear as a person", like a speck in the universe... "

I find the Westerner's perception of Eastern philosophy to be very strange, or any other religion for that matter. I had also been in the car recently listening to the Christian talk radio station my grandma had on. I find a lot of their topics interesting and applicable no matter what religion a person may be. But again their perception of other religions boggles my mind. I think the one that caught my attention last was a discussion about Wicca. There seemed to be so many times during the program where I kept saying to my grandma, "That's not true!" For some reason, the speaker kept attempting to categorize paganism as Satanism, when really they are vastly different. In fact, I find them to be nearly opposites. The satanists are truly nihilistic, finding no meaning in anything, and therefore glorifying only the self, and annihilating the Self. Whereas the Wiccans, or naturalists, apply meaning into all aspects of life. So I suppose, what I'm wondering, is that in your education what were you taught about other religions? Were you taught just the basics, and left open to your own interpretation? Did they discuss the correlations, the differences? I guess that it just confuses me when I see so many correlations between things and yet people still will fight to the death for an ideology whose foundation is essentially the same as the presumed 'enemy'. There is a verse I like from the Fall of Lucifer, though taken out of context, I would like to think that its meaning could be applied to all denominations and religions of similar belief: Isaiah 14:18 "All the kings of the nations, All of them, sleep in glory, Everyone in his own house."

Also, what's interesting, is that this preacher thought of Wicca as a threat to Christianity. Some of what he said was right, but I think that where he failed is in truly asking himself why it is a threat. Psychologically speaking, it is said that when a girl reaches a certain age she has a tendency to reject her father. As you can imagine, this age lies within the early teen years. It is also said, that when a girl rejects her father she tends not to only reject her worldly father, but also her idea of God. Perhaps it comes from some sort of feeling of oppression. I can admit that the preacher was right in claiming Wicca to be a threat when it comes to young girls, because when I was younger, and when I first grew frustrated with Christianity and began to explore other religions, Wicca was the first that I embraced. And this preacher was right, Wicca embraces the idea of femininity more than the patriarchal teachings of the Bible. It demonstrates a duality, but also a peaceful co-existence between all things, just as eastern philosophy does. The idea of the God and the Goddess is only a representation of the embodiment of both genders within the vastness of God. I personally find there to be nothing 'evil' about this, and therefore the preachers relations of Wicca and Paganism to Satanic origin to be ignorant. But more importantly, rather than just being angry about this, I thought it might be beneficial to relay the ideas to someone who can make good use of it. As a preacher yourself, I suggest that you pay close attention to the younger girls in your congregation. I remember even around the age of 8, I had all ready such a firm grasp on all the Biblical stories that I was ahead of my Sunday school group, so instead I got to help teach. I became wearisome of teaching David and Solomon and all the great kings to young girls. I think it may be kind of hard to be a feminist at such a young age, but I was definitely strong willed and prideful. My grandma gave me a book when I was younger entitled, "The Women of the Bible." But I found them to be rarely discussed in church. Everyone knows of Elijah, Jeremiah, Abraham, et cetera. But what about Anna, Miriam, Deborah- were they not prophets as well? And my favorite book, Esther, I read on my own, but rarely heard it spoken of in church. And Hagar, a single mother, did she also not bare a son who became a leader of a great nation? It seems the only time women are really regarded in the Bible is through the miracle of childbirth- Mary, Elizabeth, Sarah. But what else is there? A lot of people seem to recognize names like Delilah, "Samson loved Delilah, she betrayed him, and, what is worse, she did it for money." Or Jezebel, or Eve. I find the view of Eve to be most unfortunate, because in previous arguments with idiotic men over the nature and roles of men and women, on more than one occasion I've heard them argue based on the idea of original sin. It seems to me, through my own upbringing in the Christian church, that the only women frequently heard of are those who are miraculously impregnated, or those who deceived great men. Though the pregnancies of Mary, Elizabeth, and Sarah could surely be regarded as miracles, what does it really prove about their virtue? What about also the dedication, strength, and loyalty of Ruth? "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me."

I just find it unfortunate that I seemed to learn so little about these women in church. And that is why I think its necessary to let you know this. I can assure you that the youth are skeptical. In order to keep them faithful, particularly the females, I think its important to acknowledge their relevance. Some are bound to feel lost, and ask questions such as: Who can we relate to? Is there a place for us to make a difference? What role do we play in this religion? Certainly young boys can easily fantasize playing the roles of great men such as David, or Elijah. But who can we relate to?"

hide and seek

Music moves through our bodies as we dance together on stars
High above silver clouds
soaked
with hundreds of thousands of meaningless
I love yous raining down forming restless flowing rivers
DREAMS
can run far faster than we can lie
through miles and miles and miles of because
through countless seconds of dizzy existence
through lackluster hope, dull smiles, black holes
Oops-
someone somewhere is lost sometimes and
theres a silhouette painted on the shy ground
Down here snowcapped poetics cannot compare to the brightness of blue
left now only to swim through apologies forever-
Here I am
stopping only to be hypnotized by the eyes of the most innocent child

that I have ever seen

Electra Complex

When I was younger I read the story, The Whipping Boy and I can remember how sad it made me feel. I think that any person who reads the story is inclined to feel sympathetic. However I don't think that sympathy was quite the feeling that I felt, but more so, a feeling of empathy. I could relate not literally, but more so metaphorically. If you were to take the concept of The Whipping Boy and translate it to psychological terms, you would interpret it as projection. If you're unfamiliar with the meaning of projection, the definition is, "A defense mechanism in which one attributes to others one’s own unacceptable or unwanted thoughts or/and emotions. Projection reduces anxiety by allowing the expression of the unwanted subconscious impulses/desires without letting the ego recognize them." People do this often, and it is a pet peeve of mine because it is something that I can recognize instantly, and if pointed out, it is often denied.

My journal from my younger years is filled with angry writing that mirrored my perception of my father. I believe that a large part of my anxiety and manic depression stemmed from these childhood relations. I lived in a house where I felt that I was walking on glass. Where I learned to be quiet, to have finesse, and more often than not, just to hide. I never knew how my father was going to react, he was like a time bomb. There have been times when I was pouring something to drink, and in spilling a little he would go into a fit of blind rage. It was for this reason that I had developed anxiety, and maybe it could be possible that my inability to maintain any definite emotion was because of the instability of emotion in my household. Either way, as you can imagine, I far from liked my father and only respected him when I was a child out of fear. We never got along. Luckily, I was intelligent enough to understand that his verbal abuse had little to do with me. The result of years of being referred to as a stupid or selfish bitch, or a freeloader, or any other irrelevant insult, was far better of one than most could claim. It never actually hurt my feelings. Instead I only gained more pride and more respect for myself.

I've heard it said that women are subconsciously attracted to men who are like their fathers, and that men are likewise to their mothers. I never would have believed this to be true in my case, for obvious reasons. But to my surprise, I have been proven wrong. With the exception of my father no man has ever had the audacity to refer to be as a bitch, or a cunt, or any other generic insult. This was true until recently anyway. I made a friend who was rather abrasive, to say the least. Not only was he a friend, but he had become a very close friend. His tendency to use more abrasive language rubbed me the wrong way at first, but with time I had grown to be insensitive to this. Also, I think that it would be fair to say that I was more fond of him than any other man I had previously met. I don't consider us friends anymore. I had realized recently that attempting to maintain a friendship was futile. I had realized this because we have the same opinion of each other. He has deemed me as resentful, as sensitive and someone who needs to take responsibility. He is annoyed by me, and I him. It wasn't until the last fight when I sat on the phone listening to him scream at me, unable to even understand what it was he was trying to say. And I suppose that it was after be referred to as a stupid bitch again, and this time out of anger that the little girl inside of me said, "Why are you doing this again?"

There is a fine line between being authentic and being disrespectful. It comes with tone, and with genuine emotion. Calling me a stupid bitch in anger, and meaning it, really meaning it- is something that I will not stand for. Why? Well honestly, it's as simple as the fact that I'm not a stupid bitch, and I'm definitely not ignorant enough to let someone attempt to make me believe so. Even when it is clear that others have no respect for me, I still have respect for myself. This isn't being self righteous, this is recognizing error, and a repeat of a pattern that once caused much damage to me.

Let me clarify though, that its not about language that I realized I had come to like someone just like my father. I think that perhaps there is a larger comparison. The difference was my father was a jackass who was resentful of his own childhood. But it wasn't this resentment that made him a jackass, I'm not that unkind. It was in his failure to realize that this was the reason for the problems in his own family. His inability to stop projecting his resentment on to everyone else and take responsibility for it. I have been accused of being resentful lately, and I don't deny it. We all have minor resentment everyday, but these resentments are worn on our sleeve. But there is a greater resentment, in which people often around- this deep rooted resentment, which they attempt to bury within themselves. Resentment of this nature is often justified. But that doesn't mean it shouldn't be acknowledged. And it should, because resentment is like a seed, and no matter how deep you attempt to bury it it will grow, branching out and manifesting itself through your own actions and behaviors. It's these people who fail to acknowledge it, who unwillingly become everything that they hate. Just as my father became his, the very father he resented.

Me and my father get along fine now. He has changed a lot, he has realized the error of his behavior. What is still unfortunate though, is that my whole life I had separated myself from him, because any attempt to get closer meant I would only subject myself further more to being his whipping boy. I was never resentful of him because I actually understood. I was only annoyed that in his 40 odd years he still had failed to take responsibility for it. What was truly unfortunate in this situation is that because of his resentment he was never actually able to know me.

As for the comparison, it is equally as unfortunate for me to realize that I cannot maintain a friendship with someone I greatly appreciate and respect. And I am annoyed only by the irony. The irony of someone saying that I am resentful, and that I need to take responsibility for my emotions. But yet when I look at him all I see is mounting insecurity and sensitivity, which I feel has recently been put off on me. I would have been patient. But I refuse to sit and let someone else again project their feelings on to me while they pin me for everything that they are, instead of solving the problems within themselves. I'm not going to be anyones scapegoat.

You take responsibility.