My life feels like a waste

In writing about my life on a personal note I feel I have used Services and I haven't got anywhere with them. I feel on a personal note that I've put so much into life, I'm always smiling and present I've even dedicated myself to treatment and aspects of everyday living to make me happy but I am crying at the end of the day because I don't feel sustained in stability yet and it makes me want to act out irrationally because I don't understand why I was not included why I did not belong.

Confidence is so important. It must sparkle through all of the questions that are thrown at me when I am offering a service it must be taken seriously as well by the customer or person in need.

I feel disembogued to the cause of presentation over reason of a doubt that my answer is the right one. In depth I see myself drowning in water swimming with the whales and sea life for tranquility. I have got to be much better. I no longer am bothered by what others say. I do what feels good, what feels right. I love the passion for learning but it really belongs with the kids. Unless of course you're someone who has made a mistake and is teaching others to progress themselves and to jump on board themselves with self motivation and adherence to a society or a firm and adherence in life.

I miss my piano playing the most. As something that time passes with a love that is great. I had loved playing the piano from sheet music.

I cry to myself because of lack of direction not because of money so much in the need to have or not have money from earnings that are seldom admired. There is something to be said for an honest pay.

My title of my works and journal writing here today isn't that honest toward children and the cause of having children because today I choose to think of myself and my projects and contributions in a complete and in a recovery model that I can stand by and that gives circulation to my human being soul.

To benefit in life means I need to have life entitlement says the human being law in constricts in Ontario. But I have never had a running human being chance. So, here it is. Laid before me. I am choosing cards again and asking why? Why me? I'm not a card player deep down I'm not. I am resourceful, and thoughtful and I'm a musician of a human being that feels perhaps misused in her skill and capability in life has been sucked dry.

We say Deum which is sometimes known as the "Ambrosian Hymn" but what comes before it? Carpe? A fish? That puts me back in the water, you see. There we go again with hope of getting forward here in life but I'm set back a page, and here's why. I was an addict for many years trying to explain myself with my words but it was hard to hear me because I'm a Victim of a Crime.

I've realized as a Victim of such people and people that are a real piece of work and we aren't talking about art that I need to write about it, and to have it published means so much to me. Away from the high and dry it's just dirty humor and jokes that are meant to pull ploys on peoples brain power to reason and push reason and capability themselves. And what are we made of? Who am I? I can't forge through any longer with what peoples needs even are. And I'm sorry to have to word it as such but I can't. It's called getting older, and looking back, and not seeing much except family that are still here and those that I have lost I miss because they are gone.