I am flabbergasted, ashamed, and angry after philosophy homework which straight up flabbergasts myself because I’ve always questioned everything after reading a selection of Seneca’s letter’s ( ancient spanish philosopher) Spastic Fury is an understatement I understand this was written in a different time period but I have to discuss this **** in class. **** like why crying is for the weak or how practicing habits less fortunate than one is subordinate to will strengthen thy noble soul for future preparation of fortune/misfortune blah blah blah I get all of that **** I understand the validity of living a pure, un-judgemental, strong willed life. what I can’t get out of my OCD head is all of the **** I’ve been through that was and continues to be detrimental to my sanity and no it’s not out of vanity you naive ****** it’s called PTSD and it can be debilitating. I know this portion of reading is designed for the average freshman unsoiled mind, free from trauma and full of promise but I’m not your average person. I never will be I remember the times I didn’t want to be a ******* person and those moments remain anchored right on top of my mangled innocence. Seneca claims crying is a form of selfish weakness I claim crying is stronger than taking a razor to the skin crying is stronger than puking until you’re dizzy crying is stronger than getting high until you can’t remember why you started crying in the first place It took me 17 years and disgusting amounts of therapy to accept my hurricane emotions are not a form of weakness because everything I feel is a million times more real than the ******* we hear, see, or talk about I know tragedy occurs everywhere to anyone unfortunate enough to be there but in terms of my salvation there is an expiration date on how long I can play in the sand before I’m choking and gasping “i’m sorry’s” in-between scratchy breaths I knew college would be hard, but at least in group therapy there was actual motivation to speak up