Somehow I have managed to dodge all diagnoses, probably because I adapt to pretty much anything. I adapt to my madness, I adapt to my gloom, I adapt to my poverty and sickness that eats all the good that is left inside my head, those few good thoughts that try to tell me that it all will be ok, one day they will accept you as you are, when they truly see what you are, but no, oh no I know my time is running out, disappearing in front of me, dissolving like piss in  a lake and my patience is growing thinner too, oh yes, I am not that patient to begin with but I have tried, tried and tried over and over again, tried to forgive, to be patient, to be kind, to understand and to adapt to any change there might occur. But as you grow older and less idealistic youâll see how the world changes way too slow for your kind, way too slow to accept you in your own lifetime, and that is a really devastating sight. It wrecks your will to belong. You realize there was a reason your dad left you all, it was because he saw that THEY would never leave him be, and he couldnât raise you up in peace when THEY would always be at his feet, harassing him, causing trouble where there shouldnât be trouble. And so he left and I was angry for many years, for many years I thought he abandoned us for nothing, for he told us we were useless, and it gnawed on me all those years growing up, hating to grow up looking exactly like him. Then I reached the age where I realized he tried to save us from his shit, and I was rather glad he did. But what followed, someone elseâs shit, was far worse than his ever was. But I adapted to my suffering, and I survived, and now there's not a single knife that could stab through my thick hide.Â
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