My philosophy is hard to put to words. For all my love of writing I feel in feelings and not in words; I simply know that I feel and know what I feel, but I cannot explain it well.
What I feel is pain, what that creates in me is determination and solidity. My life sucks and will continue to suck until I am free from my NPD parents.
I want to rise above the cards I've been dealt, I strive to find myself and know exactly where I stand. I strive to ever further critique and mold myself into someone who can love the right way. I want to love, despite having only ever knowing fleeting glimpses of that strange and powerful emotion. I above all strive to my utmost to be, to simply be. And that is my greatest struggle. My circumstances do their best to crush me, to squeeze the individuality out of me, to make me succumb to the pain and to let myself continue my parent's chain of abuse on with my own future children. But to do that would mean the death of everything I stand for and therefore myself as I am. So therefore, I struggle and fight and hurt and bleed, just to simply be. I don't want them to change me.
When I write about it I feel strong. Perhaps not strong, actually, but rather unbreakable. Pain and struggle create patriots. Injustice creates free-thinkers. I'd like to call myself both. I have lost so much blood figuratively to attain this self-knowledge on my own, it incites a long-suffering weatherbeaten sigh and an armored feeling in my heart. It's hard to describe.