In my mind, they almost don't count. I think this because I can disprove my convictions as soon as I come up with them. What I'm left with is an incredible amount of self-doubt, and eventually, loathing. Being unusually gullible probably doesn't help with establishing concrete facts, either.
Now I know what happens when I try too hard, what happens when I give in to fears and desperation. I, hah, get so goddamn needy. Once I've given up on trying to deal with myself I seek help, simultaneously seeking independence and self-assurance, creating such a mess that no one in their right mind would want to deal with that, but yet, I continue, because I don't know what else to do, and because the self-destructive part of myself is keen at proving that I'm no good for anybody.
Which means that what previously I considered "manning up" and expressing myself, trying to get to the bottom of my emotions was pretty much doing the opposite of what I wanted to achieve. I have yielded some good results with the bad, thought. Doing yoga and making an attempt at stabilising these energetic things had been a useful experience, but, as it turns out, too much interference remains being an overload of something.
I was told that both getting drunk and having a cigarette shuts these things off.
It seems that people smoke, somewhere subconsciously having stored the knowledge that it is for their own peace of mind as well as for that of the rest of the general public. If you're off, you can't sabotage other people's work with themselves at that moment. It's a tolerance conspiracy. Which is funny, because it explains how inept people are at dealing with their own shit, really, gives a good reason for the state of the world.
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