Because I do not want people to be very agreeable- it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.
I can feel the sick, soul-annihilating flux of fear in my blood switching its current defiant fight. I cannot sleep, although tired, and lay feeling my nerves shaved to pain & the groaning voice in my head: it's no use, you've failed, you've failed.
I can't think. And I lay under the negative icy flood of denial, thinking that voice was all my own, a part of me, and it must somehow conquer me and leave me with my worst visions: having had the chance to battle it and win day by day, and having failed.
I have a good self, that loves skies, art, hills, ideas, bright colours. My demon would muder this self by demanding that it be a paragon, saying that it should run away if it is anything less.
I doubt my capabilities. For some selfish reason, I feel that I need an incentive to continue with school. There is nothing I look forward to. Nothing I seem to enjoy. Nothing that makes me smile.
It's all a blurry mess.
Because we must have eyes only for God. God is the Truth and the Truth is God.