The Journal of an Angry Black Man

My mom's tree...  Typically, the holidays are the time of year I look forward to when it comes to being with family and "at home."  This year is different. Not because I don't want to be in Portsmouth and spend my day in and out of Cavalier Manor, but because I'm not feeling like I have anything to contribute to the people and the places I've gotten so much from.  They don't care... I know this. They just want to see my face and catch one of my rare genuine smiles or laughs.  I just feel as if that person is only around in fleeting moments.  He doesn't come to the surface unless all is clear and there's no one who will remind him of all the things he didn't do correctly in life. Going home would probably fix a lot of the anxiety I have about adjusting to life away from the only place I've ever known (honestly). But, once again, I would also have anxiety about being a 31 year old man in his hometown who has to get rides to and from ever...

Days like today really make me wonder if I'm bipolar or not. I mean, nothing has changed between yesterday and today, but I feel completely down in the dumps right now.  I have food, shelter, and more than enough clothes, but for some reason I'm simply feeling like I'm not worthy of any of it.  I have tried to reach out and talk to a few people, but I feel like everyone I want to talk to is too busy to to respond to me, and that makes me feel like shit.  On the occasion that I do get to talk to someone, I feel like they're not really listening and it makes me upset when I feel like they are simply telling me the same parables and fairy tales that someone told them. It upsets me when people say everything is going to work out alright when they dont even know what I'm going through or what I'm dealing with.  That alone makes me feel like giving up on it all.  The same people who work each and every day and are broke will sit with a straight face and tell me things...