If I Didn't Keep Asking People To Pray For Me (And For Others), Then...

People would have to worry. Right now, I'm only getting older every day and not strong enough for myself—I'm still, e.g., jobless, single, etc.—and I've blogged and otherwise written, as well as spoken about, my struggles with Cerebral Palsy, mental illnesses, etc..

Besides, I can ascertain that many other people with disabilities and mental illnesses can relate—and who knows whether or not they feel like they wish they had the courage to speak up like I'm speaking up; despite that I'm just talking about what I endure in part to keep myself from doing something detrimental to myself, as opposed to being courageous? After all, addictions (e.g., Alcoholism) and suicide run in my family; and bottling anything up can become dangerous to the point of fatality.

If nothing else, keeping myself alive for some reason is somehow being for others and not just myself, isn't it?

This one is a Vincent van Gogh drawing that found on Wikimedia Commons.

This one I found on Facebook as I was browsing. This speaks to a lot of what I'm enduring—the loneliness, missing a lot of people, some secrets that even I, the type that believes in as much full disclosure as possible, have; and, in my case, knowing that people like me are out there and wondering why I have to numb, mitigate, or suppress my own pain just because others are suffering. Incidentally, I think about my two ex boyfriends, each of whom I had to report to the police and should not have dated in the first place—I dated one from August 4, 2004 to about May 19, 2005; and the other one I dated for literally six days, or at least I initially remembered from about February 26, 2013 to March 2 or 3, 2013. Maybe it was 10 days, from about February 20th to March 2nd—either way, that came after almost eight years of being single again and is being followed by over three years of being single again for a second time.