Lame-Ass Loser
This world is so fucking lame. Everybody is living in a masquerade, stony masks set in place so nobody really knows anyone else - don't really know themselves. People can't seem to accept each other, don't bother to accept themselves as they are, always look to someone else to tell them what they know they don't want to hear, or perhaps what they already know.
It's so fucking stupid living like that, yet everyone does it - hell, even I do, and I know it.
Of course, I know a small fraction of my problem - but evertime I want to talk about it, nobody ever seems to want to listen, or they simply shove it aside like it doesn't matter, with a roll of the eyes and a "You don't want to know." Nobody bothers to ask why I do what I do to myself - hell, I don't even know why the hell I do what I do. I suppose I just started one day and couldn't stop, like being on a train that won't put on it's brakes when there's an impasse on the tracks.
People I know say it's stupid, look at me with pity and disgust amazingly all in one glance, and think they know what I've been through. Go ahead, take a gander. Mommy doesn't love me? No, she just shows it in her own round-about way. Daddy doesn't love me? Don't know daddy, but the ones mom has brought home have loved me a little too much. A need for attention? I'm not much for attention, but it'd be nice if someone who CARED noticed for once.
I talked to someone the other day, he asked if I was "emo". I don't know the certain definition of that word, but I am not "emo". I may cry myself to sleep, and I may cut myself on a regular basis, and I may have difficulty knowing which emotion is which, uncertainty in labeling them and such, but I don't want a label put on me so people know what to call when I refuse to answer them.
Stupidity isn't a born trait, merely passed on between family and friends. I try not to take it from those around me - as I am almost constantly surrounded by it - as I don't NEED it, nor do I want it. I'm perfectly fine with my own levels of inferred, assumed stupidity and ignorance firmly in place with my fragile mask I wear to the masquerade that is life-long-lie.
I don't believe in God. I don't believe in love. I don't believe in friends, or family, or faith. I have no faith in anything - not in myself, and not in others. I don't believe in myself. I have moments where I pretend I do, but that's all it is - pretend. Another meaningless lie to another meaningless life or another faceless person.
I have scars - scars upon scars upon scars - and I don't remember where I got them all. Sure, I remember that small, curved one between my thumb and forefinger, and I remember the three on my right shin, and maybe a few of the ones on my thighs and side, but the others are like drawing up blanks. I know I did them, but I don't remember HOW or WHY or even WHEN.
I don't remember if it was done with the scissors, or the tiny needle lost in my mattress, or if it was the knife that always sits in my right pocket, given to me as a Christmas from a friend so like myself I was almost scared I was hallucinating the scars on her arms.
Maybe I was, though, maybe I was hallucinating everything, maybe I'm hallucinating writing this right now - I sure don't remember writing the last few entries. I don't remember writing the emo-angst story I've been working on for the last few months, I don't even remember writing that poem the other day. I don't remember buying those books, or picking out those pair of pants, or writing "Happy Birthday Mom" in the card I haven't sent yet.
I don't remember walking to work, or coming home or crossing the street; I don't remember why I smile and continue to live like I do.
I don't pretend to know what I want, because I honestly don't know. I'm not allowed to be depressed, but that's all I ever seem to be, even when I'm smiling like I've never smiled before, laughing my heart into some strange sort of fake-happiness that's only going to make me cry harder when I try to go to sleep.
Tell me you know me, and I laugh silently in my mind as I outwardly half-heartedly agree with you. Because I'm just that easy to read, because I never gave you any reason to doubt my sanity or my words, you won't see that I don't have a clue why I'm still here listening to everything you say like we know each other.
Who knows? Maybe I'm the only one lying, while everyone else is just as happy as can be living the way that they are. I don't know. Perhaps I'll never know. At this point however, I'm not entirely sure that I want to.