HEY THIS PAGE IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK!
Stop! This is a filtered page, which means it contains content that is more inappropriate and/or disturbing than usual. Be sure you understand the implications of filtered pages before continuing.
Comfort
Today I made the mistake of reading election stuff -- namely justifications that the Globe and Mail and Munk Debates used to block Elizabeth May from election debates. That made me angry. Reading a blog post about domestic violence yesterday made me angry too.
I have been exposed to stories about the Ashley Madison leaks, conditions overseas domestic workers face, and the terrible ways ISIS treats people in its conquered territories. All this makes me sad and confused.
I find myself eating a lot to calm myself down, so my weight will go up and up indefinitely. I am spending enormous amounts of money on impulse purchases that don't make me happy. From time to time I let out whimpers of unhappiness that threaten to metastasize into wails. There are many terrible things in the world. I don't know what to think or what to do.
What I want is to be comforted. But as a grownup, I will never be comforted again. Babies and small children can find comfort from their parents. Grownups can't. As a male, even asking to be comforted is asserting male privilege, because the burdens for offering comfort almost always fall to women.
I want to cry out for attention, but there is no attention to be had. My duty as a grownup is to suck it up and be alone and uncomforted for the rest of my days.