I'm going to start daylogging more often, I think. Just a series of one-draft (that's a rule) rants and raves. It's half journal, half basis for a defence of criminal insanity if I ever end up in court.

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Nothing is ever allowed to be easy, is it.

I like the idea of setting myself these wide, overarching goals for my life in the days and weeks to come. It lets me focus my crazy down, lets me organize my thoughts towards making decisions on my own personal convictions. One of these goals is dealing with that whole sexuality thing. That's what I mean when I say huge goals - it's a goal like "balance my school and personal lives," where there is no easy solution. Fully coming to terms with myself is going to take a while; I just feel like it was slipping further and further out of my control recently, so I decided to pay it more attention. I might not be any closer to solving any of my problems, but I'm feeling better about it. Just because I haven't defined a goal for something doesn't mean I'm not dealing with it in my daily life, it just means I haven't recognized it as a problem yet.

My newest massive goal is to better define what it is I value. Which I think is significantly bigger than that whole sexuality thing, but has one major difference to it:

Where sexuality matters mostly to myself and how I live with myself, my values are going to affect every moment I spend in contact with another human being.

Now I'm not going to lie. I am one selfish bastard, and so I fully plan on focusing more on that whole sexuality thing than on my values. To me, being able to live with myself - and not having to be constantly lying to people around me - is much more important than what I believe. Which, really, is in itself a way of defining my values. Some problems help solve other problems.

The impetus for this little values crisis was a Facebook group for a dead girl I never knew. A friend of a friend was going out with a girl who suffered from cystic fibrosis, and she has recently passed away. I didn't offer my condolences. I don't have any way outside of Facebook to contact him, and I don't think I could make anything I typed seem like anything other than a false facade over nonchalance. It's like the difference between being told happy birthday in person versus on your Facebook page. No matter what the thought behind the post was, it's going to feel flimsy compared to a face-to-face connection. I'm not heartless, I just think it would look like lipservice. But that wasn't what sent me around the bend.

What got me was a Facebook group which formed when the girl entered the hospital and has been slowly growing since. It's a nice gesture, a virtual support group for her friends and family. Again, I didn't know the girl or any of her family - the girl was friend of a friend of a friend - so I decided it wasn't my place to join. But I'm worried that some amount of my decision was based off of the title of the group.

You see, the group is titled "Prayers for Gillian."

That was her name, apparently. That's not the part that threw me. The part that threw me was the "prayers for."

I have always prided myself on not being a militant atheist. I fully understand that religion is a lifeline for some, and that it can have - if you'll excuse the pun - miraculous effects on morale. Whether or not there is an all-powerful thing in the sky is a whole different debate. My stance has always been that of the famous joke - "Religion is like a penis. It's great that you have one, go ahead and be proud of it, but please don't shove it down my throat."

Then I saw this group, and something about the "Prayers For" made me cringe.

As far as I can tell, the family went to every extent to make sure their daughter was well cared for in her disease. I don't believe religious dogma ever got in the way of properly treating her, or interfered with her life. As far as I can tell, the prayers were merely a lifeline, a morale booster.

So why the fuck does it bother me so much?

This is what threw me. It's a lot like when someone who you didn't think was racist mentions how they're always expecting old Asian women to steal from their store, except that racist asshole was me. I apparently have militant tendencies buried somewhere underneath the surface, and that's what kicked off my current crisis. I don't believe I understand what I really value or how those values make me act around different people.

I don't meditate or talk to therapists. I don't pray or go to confession. The only way I work through issues is either by writing, or by directly thinking through them. So far, writing hasn't gotten me further through my own problems, so I think I'm going to be spending a lot of time thinking in the near future.

The part of this that troubles me, though, is that I always try to be honest with myself. By admitting my faults to myself I'm able to work with them, and hopefully eventually surpass them. I think I've become a notably nicer person over the past two years. I've become less judgemental. I finally have something resembling willpower. I've stopped lying to myself. I've stopped thinking I'm courageous and started actually doing things to be that way.

But then there are the little things. Being homesick. Having a bruisable ego. Realizing how much lying to people has actually eaten away at me over the years. It seems like for everything in my life I fix or start to put together, five more problems crawl out of the woodwork. The new problems aren't even the worrying part; it's the fact that I have so many faults underneath my skin that I didn't even know were there. It's terrifying how little I know myself.

But I think I've accepted that this will take time. That's how I started, isn't it? By mentioning how huge these goals are?

Well, almost. I think I started with an even better sign of that acceptance. It's the only thing I'm entirely sure of at the moment.

Nothing is ever allowed to be easy.

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