I love absurdity. When I am not a part of it, I have a genuine appreciation for farce and irony. There is just so much baggage in my life that I have to work through. So much. And no, I wasn't violently gang-raped by a band of roving crack-heads, or brutally beaten by a vicious captor. But it's sad all the same, and tragic. And it has shaped my brain, and force my mind to construct these defense mechanisms which, I still use to this day. Even at the zenith of any happy moments in my life, I feel this darkness creep in to my soul. It scares me, and depress me all the same. Ugh.