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I think that I have this fear of success. I mean, I want to do well, at least consciously, but I think that there's a part of me that does not want for me to succeed. For instance, I have this horrible habit of procrastinating until it's almost impossible to do a good job on whatever it is that I've waited so long to do. But I constantly surprise myself, and end up doing much better than I would have thought, given how little time I put into the endeavor. The thing is, I realize that one of these days, my last minute effort will not be enough. I will have finally managed to screw myself so badly that no hasty effort will right things.

This thought fills me with dread, and a curious sort of peace. I don't know why, but I get nervous if I'm doing well. Batman and I were talking today, and we discussed this curious phenomenon, whereby we feel bereft because we don't have anything specific to be angry about. We want to cry, or to punch a wall or something, but nothing is wrong. Why? I don't understand, especially since I don't really feel good when I am angry. Why do I long to feel bad? Why can't I just enjoy things the way they are, without inviting something awful?

Having recently experienced anger over the state of my life, how could I so soon long for a return of the same? Maybe it's just the drama of anger that I miss. Everything is heightened in a way that I think is absent in times of calm. I don't think I've really felt exaggerated happiness, so I don't long for that state, but I've experienced exaggerated anger/sadness, so at least I know what I'm missing. There's a kind of joy in misery, the kind that affirms that one exists. Abject pain hurts so deep that truly one can not doubt one's own existence.