Nothing but time at the Best of Westerns...

Without burdening myself to the weight of my claims from my first post or perhaps in justification of those very ideals, I've found myself looking back on them. Stuck in my head again, stuck in my head again. Basically, what this comes down to is that I don't know what I've gotten myself into. I don't know what's going to happen to myself, and I really don't know how I'm going to deal with any of it. I'm sitting here in my hotel room typing away, but I have no idea why I'm doing it or what I'm trying to say. I'm feeling this irrational distress inside that doesn't seem to own up to any degree of placation. I can't get rid of it, and nothing seems to budge it.

Is this simply because it's a horrible disease stuck in my head, and there's nothing I can do outside of letting someone else wiggle his/her questionably cleanly hands around in my brain? Is that all I can do? Then I'll just let them fill me up with God-knows how many different kinds of poisons and radiations in their so-often humble attempt that maybe, just maybe, the disease itself will die before I do? That sounds pretty damn shortsighted to me--especially in the light of how amazingly advanced our medicine is supposed to be.

Well I don't like it. You can call me a hippy, but I'd rather be running around outside than dealing with all of this. I don't think anyone else would rather be in any other situation, though. This just plain sucks. I don't think there's any other way to put it.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

OK that's my bitching for the day. I have to stay positive throughout this little trip, and I don't think that complaining about how much I'd rather be running around outside is going to perpetuate that. There's one other thing that's bothering me, though. I really wanted to delve into some issues that I have before Goliath gets yanked. First off, what created him? As I said before, many people think that cancer, in particular, originates from some deep-seated emotional trauma. If that's the case, what was it for me? Was it never discussing my emotional dissatisfaction with Philly with any of my friends there? That could be it. I don't think I ever let anyone know how much Philly bothered me. Philly's a filthy, stinky, angry, rat-hole of a city that I somehow managed to sneak in a little bit of love for at the same time. It really has turned out to be a love-hate relationship--but I guess it always was ever since day one. Ideally, I would've much rather been living in Athens in a van down by a river somewhere, but then again I might just go crazy in said van down by said river. Well I'm obviously losing my mind (or at least bulking it up in far from healthy quantities) in this situation, so what now? Do I move after this is all over? I think I just thought that if I never confronted the issue, then it wasn't really an issue at all. I think I thought it was a character flaw in myself rather than an issue that I really needed to let out. Maybe once it got out into the open, I'd realize that it's not as big of a deal as I thought before--or maybe not. One thing's for sure, though, I need to get these things out of my head and into someone else's ears before it turns into even more of a Goliath of a problem down the road.