Drunk fat and stupid is no way to go through life. Yet I get through and by. I try to live my life according to my idealogical value system but the good things one does is not always recpricated by life. Often times the good guy ends up homeless, broke and still does the "right". I am not as selfish as others, though selfishness is pervasive enough in our culture to leave us feeling that it should always be about us rather than what society needs. So we are left a broken country, divided by greed and misunderstanding between race, religion, and location all so the rich can keep their dollars and keep us divided. I try to be a good guy, not judge, not fight, but life does reciprocate, and I am left misunderstood, hated for what I am not for who I am. Just another bum. Music and film are huge parts of my life. Musically I love NOFX, Daniel Johnston, Rise Against, Turbonegro, Valient Thorr, Tom Waits, Bouncing souls, Bracket, Bad Religion, Against Me!, Bad Astronaut, Black Flag, Lagwagon, Dropkick Murphey's, Millions of Dead Cops, The Paper Chase, The Ramones, Sloppy Seconds, The Vandals, Guttermouth, and The White Stripes. If you want to know more about me then here is a crappy paper I had to write during cl. I answered this question once before, I don’t know how much has changed since then, but I will answer it as fresh as I can and won’t look back on the previous paper. I still haven’t a good idea of who I am. I stumble through the dark looking for any light but just feel around and hope that I can get out of the darkness that surrounds me. It makes me fear the sun because I don’t know if I could handle that much light and warmth and don’t know if I would like what I see when I see myself fully illuminated. I once thought I knew who I was and where I was going, but that illusion is gone, and how I miss the illusion of happiness and love. I know I am a damaged soul incapable of being loved right now, maybe forever, but I move on in the dark bumping in to things, feeling around and mostly only finding pain while being almost completely blind as to who I am. I can tell you how I feel and what I feel like, but not who I am. I feel like I am a used condom, thrown off to the side of the street, used up, once useful and now disgusting to all per by, just left to deteriorate never to be touched again. I always wanted to be more than the man I am today and have more figured out than I do now. I have though stumbled on to a few things in the darkness that I live in that give me perhaps the beginning of an outline of who I am. Alone, I am always alone. I don’t feel a God’s presence, I don’t feel love from anyone, just pity and the fear that they one day will end up like me. My life is like driving across the country having no one to ride with and no radio. I see other cars on the road and once and a while get noticed when I mess up and get honked and get the middle finger, but I only have my self to talk to most of the time. Once and while I bump in to people like I am stopping for fuel, but I have to get back on that road, and I have no one to get on it with me. My whole life I don’t know if I have ever felt like anyone has understood me and this is a part of who I am, loneliness . The drive to create fuels me to keep moving, when I am making something from my soul I feel alive, I feel like I am making something that I understand, and that understands me. I have always been like this, even though I have fought it a good portion of my life. I always thought it made me too much of a sissy and I was always afraid of what my parents and family would think. I never allowed them to go to any of the speech compeions I was in, or when I would put on a show at the high school and I made sure to never even tell them about when I would be playing with a band or would be on stage somewhere. My creativity was my guilty pleasure for so long, a part of who I am that I denied and suppressed, partly because I had no support with it. My soon to be Ex-wife wanted me to have a normal job and would act weird when I would be working on a project. My father made fun of stuff I wrote when I was kid, and I guess that scarred me. For a long time I wrote nothing, and when I started writing again I never showed it to anyone. Now I show it to a very select few people, unless required by a cl. The creative part of me is one though that I do like, I wish I had the talent others did to actually get paid for doing it, to actually be recognized as doing something original and good, but I won’t and just do it for myself while I am alone. Creativity is a major part of who I am. Most everyone can feel emotion, and often the emotions they show the most are used to describe that person. “He is an angry man” or “She is a perky woman.” My emotions are raw and result in almost childlike behavior. I get jealous of what other people have and not so much when it comes to worldly possessions; it is usually love, physical contact and belonging. This often leaves me crying like a baby, throwing tantrums like a two year old and as uncooperative and selectively deaf as any angry child. The other side of this though is that I can laugh uncaringly sometimes; I act like there are no consequences, and feel indestructible at times. I am always one way or the other a person of extreme emotion, definitely bi-polar and childish but with out the innocence. I am a walking contradiction of emotion and only able to be labeled by clinical definitions. I am though commonly an emotion at any given time. So that is a part of who I am pure emotion and feeling, but mostly I feel anger, jealousy, and sadness in other words, I constantly feel pain even when I feel good. I am bi-polar, confused and emotional, the contradiction is a part of who I am. These are the main factors that I have found to be true about myself in the darkness that I walk alone in. I try to fight through, but I usually get no where and cry because of jealousy and anger. I know others exist, I think I exist, but with out a decent sense of my self, I feel like a ghost or invisible. Not only can I not see myself, but no one else can either. I will go on, I will be forgotten, I will never be loved, and all I have are my emotions, a sense of going it alone, and my creative side. Maybe someday someone will turn on the light or maybe I will find my way out of the darkness but I doubt it. Most likely I will stumble through the darkness for the rest of my life until I finally stumble into death; feeling more alone, crying harder, yelling louder, going into a deeper depression, because then my creativity ends and I lose everything that I thought I knew I was.