So here we are again, full-circle it would seem. Fists clenched into balls of incandescent rage and yet unable to unleash my fury against my nemesis.
I look at people in town and view them with a mixture of envy and disgust. I am jealous of their ability to continue living the pathetic lives they lead and not feeling the desire to accomplish more. I am jealous of their acceptance of mediocrity. If I was blessed with their ignorance, stupidity and apathy, I’d probably be happy. But I am not. I am cursed with education, intelligence and determination. I have things I want to achieve, societal ills I am desperate to cure, and yet I seem completely incapable of accomplishing ANYTHING.
I fucking disgust myself. I mean, let’s just take a look at the list of things I have achieved in my life:
That’s right, fuck all. And to make matters worse, the only person I have to blame for this is myself. The only way I seem to deal with all this shit is by posting moaning rants on the Internet which nobody reads, or (in the past) by self-harm.
AND NOTHING I EVER FUCKING TRY EVER FUCKING FIXES ANY OF IT.
Maybe I’m just strung out. I’ve had a long, hard weekend and seem to be on a down-turn and should probably be resting. But all I want to do is destroy something or someone. And as I’m the only person here, I guess it’s going to come to that again.
I’m not after a sympathy vote, I’m not expecting anyone to understand, and I’m certainly not wanting any hollow platitudes in the comments. I just need to channel this hate into something tangible.
Also I apologise for the coarseness of my language in this post.
I wrote this today while sipping americano in a coffee bar. I’m not sure if that makes me a hipster or not.
“How long have I been here?”
Face pressed against the glass
Of the windows in what once passed
And he tries to recall
What started it all;
The catalyst so small
Which set in motion the wheels of fate,
Driving him along the road to self-hate
While simultaneously promising to create
A better life.
But he can’t;
His mind is too clouded,
And his memories are shrouded
By the rage which now defines him.
Then the rage gives way to apathy.
But then, something stirs inside him,
And he becomes determined to change this.
To escape this prison.
So he takes the decision
To make the incision
Which will annihilate the visions
Of the past which haunt him.
He reaches for the key, all
Sharp, solid steel,
And as it enters the softness of the lock he can feel
It seal the deal.
And as the blood starts to congeal
He can finally see.
“This place is not for me.”
And the tranquility allows
Him to be free, for now.