I'm not insecure.  I'm aware.  At least I think I'm aware of what I am.  So a term like that other one is just kind of silly to me, to dwell on or even get insulted by it.

Why should I dwell on...

Why should I wallow...?

...I mean, what am I going to do, scream at the earth?  Will it away?

Every way I try to put this, I feel like I'm getting defensive.  And that's the thing, I 'm not.  I'm not trying to deceive myself or paint some profound misery.   The misery is dull.

When I'm distracted, I seem to always laugh about it.  But it's obvious in my actions.

It's always there.  I can't ever be that man.  No amount of crunchies is going to change that.

Well, it could.  Siberia and labor.

  Best I can do is work with what I have.

I still try to control her, by cussing at her, judging her (empty phrase to a hypocrite), killing my brain, rewiring, can of worms