Does anyone know where the manual is?

This is angry, this is sad. There is a lot of blind accusations and feeling sorry for myself in the next few paragraphs, so if that ain't your thing, stop reading now.

Once a man has been shoved into a place where he doubts his own sanity, he is indeed in a very dark place. One that is almost impossible to understand how to navigate through, and find his way out.
What was real, what was true, what was righteous, what was sacred, all are fading and torn images. What is left is doubt, fear and a complete lack of self.

The world then has so many bloody marvellous ideas on how you should be thinking, on what you should be doing, on how you can save yourself. Here's my question: "Where the FUCK was the world while I was being forced into this space in the first place?" While I fought the losing battle of my life, and lost not only my reality, but my dignity and positive outlook. Where the hell were you with your self-righteous know-it-all advice on how I shouldn't be focussing on this, or thinking like that? Had you been anywhere near interested in my well being, you could have stopped this from happening in the first place. But, I forget, that involves putting yourself second, and God forbid, Brian first. Nah....I got better things to do. Besides, I am saving myself for my sanctimonious told-you-so speech.

I am here, this is MY reality, and if you had cared to spend any time with me over the past few months, you would know, you would see and you would understand where my head is. A prisoner, sitting in a little dark room, knowing that all that's left outside that door is a shadow of the life I knew. A remnant of a love that made my heart soar.

Please pardon me if I am not turning fucking flick-flacks to just run with open arms to this world of acceptance that everyone says I should go to. All of us, in our own time, will eventually stand from that cell, and walk out the door. It's natural progression, it's inhuman not to want to progress.
But for now, I would like to sit here, in the dark, and cry, and mourn and die for the loss of a life that I held so dear, a space that I had worked so hard for, for all my life.
It was raped from me. Simple. So, if you cannot understand how someone can still sit here and feel like he has been hard done by, then walk away, and take your arrogant advice to someone else that will accept changing their most deep, and important emotions, into something that the world would rather see.

Here's my thing: If you weren't there, and you gave me no help during my time of destruction, what on Earth makes you think that your mindset, and perspective could EVER be empathetic to my space.
Allow me to wallow, and allow me to die softly here. I will leave this cell one day, and go find the second place prize that is my fate. I am not exactly all choked up to accept a consolation prize right now.