Anger and Repression
Sometimes I get so fucking angry I could scream. I get so angry I sit and shake in whatever chair I'm in until I feel like I'm going to explode. I never ever say anything. I never tell people what gets me so fucked up. I hardly ever even mention it. I'm an endless pit of angst and I'm suddenly making a dent in it.
One day, I say, I'll just fucking crack. One day I'm gonna point and scream every fucking thing that makes me intolerably angry. Who the fuck are you? And its not even that I'm so fucking angry, its that whatever is making me this way is making me even sadder. I get so mad I cry. I can't even understand that a little bit.
There's so much about me I don't understand. I sit and they tell me what's up. I know what's up, I've lived with me for years, I just don't know why I fucking do it, why I keep bending over backwards to make people see me. FUCKING SEE ME.
I don't know I don't know I don't know. That's all I ever say these days. I don't know. What do you mean? Can you repeat the question? For days I have felt ridiculously dizzy, so dizzy that I think that I'm going to fall down in the middle of some embarassingly public place. I bet you would watch me lay on the ground. I can't even fucking understand why I feel so goddamn lightheaded.
"SLAVE SCREAMS. THINKS HE HAS SOMETHING HE WANTS. HE'S BEING BEATEN TO SUBMISSION." Oh god god god, that's me. I am the pawn in everybody elses game of life. I never fucking think for myself about anything. I listen to everyone. I am so unoriginal. Its my worst fucking nightmare come true. I am that person, I am that stupid asshole everyone laughs at. Ask me to do something, there isn't a doubt in my mind that I will do it. Why? Because years upon years have made me realize that I am nothing but the overachieving prick that I always hoped to be. Or did I even hope to be overachieving? Is it in my personality or in someone elses?
I don't know. Why? Because it was never my fucking decision. MY WHOLE LIFE IS NOT MY FUCKING DECISION. I JUST WANT TO PLEASE YOU. And then you'll hang up on me. Say you have to go. Hang up on me. Do it. I'm nothing to anyone anyway, just your fucking tool. Just a fucking tool.
God, I'm so fucking sad. I can't be angry long enough to get over being sad. I just break down cry and forget about it. I have to forget, there are no other alternatives. Why do I work until I bleed? Why do I work until I feel nauseous in the morning? Do I want to? Did I ever want to? Probably not. WHAT AM I?
Oh such common recurring themes in my life. Stare me down, try to pry the tiny fragmented details of my soul out and prod it with a stick. Nothing better will fucking come of it. Nothing will come of our discourse except intense bitterness and guilt. Why do I do this? It makes my life unendingly worst. I WANT EVERYTHING. "Sometimes, I have everything yet I wish I felt something."
"Don't You FUCKING KNOW WHAT YOU ARE?" No, and I wonder if I ever will.
One day, I say, I'll just fucking crack. One day I'm gonna point and scream every fucking thing that makes me intolerably angry. Who the fuck are you? And its not even that I'm so fucking angry, its that whatever is making me this way is making me even sadder. I get so mad I cry. I can't even understand that a little bit.
There's so much about me I don't understand. I sit and they tell me what's up. I know what's up, I've lived with me for years, I just don't know why I fucking do it, why I keep bending over backwards to make people see me. FUCKING SEE ME.
I don't know I don't know I don't know. That's all I ever say these days. I don't know. What do you mean? Can you repeat the question? For days I have felt ridiculously dizzy, so dizzy that I think that I'm going to fall down in the middle of some embarassingly public place. I bet you would watch me lay on the ground. I can't even fucking understand why I feel so goddamn lightheaded.
"SLAVE SCREAMS. THINKS HE HAS SOMETHING HE WANTS. HE'S BEING BEATEN TO SUBMISSION." Oh god god god, that's me. I am the pawn in everybody elses game of life. I never fucking think for myself about anything. I listen to everyone. I am so unoriginal. Its my worst fucking nightmare come true. I am that person, I am that stupid asshole everyone laughs at. Ask me to do something, there isn't a doubt in my mind that I will do it. Why? Because years upon years have made me realize that I am nothing but the overachieving prick that I always hoped to be. Or did I even hope to be overachieving? Is it in my personality or in someone elses?
I don't know. Why? Because it was never my fucking decision. MY WHOLE LIFE IS NOT MY FUCKING DECISION. I JUST WANT TO PLEASE YOU. And then you'll hang up on me. Say you have to go. Hang up on me. Do it. I'm nothing to anyone anyway, just your fucking tool. Just a fucking tool.
God, I'm so fucking sad. I can't be angry long enough to get over being sad. I just break down cry and forget about it. I have to forget, there are no other alternatives. Why do I work until I bleed? Why do I work until I feel nauseous in the morning? Do I want to? Did I ever want to? Probably not. WHAT AM I?
Oh such common recurring themes in my life. Stare me down, try to pry the tiny fragmented details of my soul out and prod it with a stick. Nothing better will fucking come of it. Nothing will come of our discourse except intense bitterness and guilt. Why do I do this? It makes my life unendingly worst. I WANT EVERYTHING. "Sometimes, I have everything yet I wish I felt something."
"Don't You FUCKING KNOW WHAT YOU ARE?" No, and I wonder if I ever will.