So you don’t think you have a disease?
Surrounding yourself with people who will always tell you what you want to hear.
Camouflaged tears of guilt and shame with those shed while playing the martyr.
These are the symptoms. This is just the start…
Your disease is full of rage.
The kind of rage that eats at the soul.
The kind that kills you from the inside before you even realize it’s there.
Your disease is soaked in ego.
It’s all about you. You get to play the victim card whenever you want.
You want better, need better, deserve better. You ARE better.
Everyone has their secrets – plus those secrets will harm too many if they got out so you better take them to your grave!
Your disease tells you that you are taking the high road.
That you are the humble one.
You can’t think of him without resenting something about him.
Your disease convinces you bit by bit that you don’t need God, that maybe He doesn’t exist.
Recovery is a fairy tale full of gullible and weak sheep. It’s basically a cult.
Self help is the only real recovery in this world.
Says your disease.
Your disease is a master at convincing you that you don’t have a disease.
And so goes the progression until nothing in life satisfies the void.
Your heart grows cold and the thought of feeling anything real terrifies you to your core.
Enlightenment is a fantasy, your reality seems bleak.
How do I know all about your disease?
Because it’s the same as mine.