(no subject)
Let's have a talk.
I look back from now to a year ago and see myself, some person who is so much worse than she is now. By worse I mean that now, today, I'm so much nicer than I use to be. A year from now I will probably look back again and say today I was much meaner, much stupider, and many other things. The other day I began to write something on a peice of paper, yes something hand written for once in a long time, but I was interupted. It began with me thinking on the things that I've learned and how I live my life today. I can't say that I'm totally happy with life, for me happiness isn't a known given, but I can't say that I totally hate it either. Well.. yes I can.
Sometimes I wonder if this lifestyle that I've been leaning toward is really the life for me. Is this really what I want? I've always said it was obligation. So is this life really lived as a compulsery existence? I could say so. I think about now, today, where I could say that maybe some of the time I feel content with this life that I've made for myself. However, it still hasn't changed and I probably would choose a different path if I were given the chance. So do I really embody this ideal lifestyle set before me? Is this really habitus taking place? Have I become part of the endless cycle? The dictation of life? Yes, I have.
Everday I long for that me that would break out of my nice hollow shell. This pretty smiling face who lives the pretty wants-to-be-smiling life with the smiling achievements adorning the shameless facade that is my wall wants to be truly what is inside. I am not an empty shell, I am definitely the impassioned cynist and I have much to say about my life and what I feel about what has been, what is, and what will be. I'm an angry person with many angry, resentful feelings that want to explode on the world. People have pushed me to my points before, I really can't wait till the day that I totally get pushed over and explode.
The people I come across in my life now who I am suppose to belong to, belong with, interact with, whatever with. These people really don't give much of a shit about me. No matter what they do, what they say, what they try they will never make me feel as if I truly belong in this place beside them. I will go out of my way to fix things for them, compensate for their mishaps, make them happy. In return, I get very little. I may get something, but those things totally never satisfy what I truly need to survive. I get wasteful debris as my compensation for all my excess thought. I've done much to restrain--why do I restrain? Because there are CONSEQUENCES for me that shouldn't be there after my having been nice all this time. That's right, I'm living my life, like I always have, in these current situations with these people today, to ESCAPE PUNISHMENT. I surpress who I am to get no reward at all, I get no break at all, no I don't, all I get is this feeling of being fucking scared that I'm going to get punished for being alive. God damn the fucking world, hallelujah.
I want to get angry for once instead of being cynical. I want to hurt people and spit spiteful things into their faces, I want to tear out their hearts and smear it on the wall. Just once I would like them to understand what MATTERS to me, what really, truly matters to me. I would like some one to actually have my back, to make sure that right now I'm not crying alone while everyone else is laughing in the other room gambling. I want them to know what I need.
Time after time, I've written everything that I need and want on the wall, on the street, I've said it to their faces, told them exactly waht it was I need, what it was that I didn't need. I told, I tell, and I will tell again these things that mean so much to me. I could cut off my wrist and write it on the wall with my severed hand, and it still wouldn't matter because no one would ever notice that the white wall has turned red.
The world is oblivious to me because of this stupid embodiment, stupid habitus, and stupid modernity. Screw it all.
I look back from now to a year ago and see myself, some person who is so much worse than she is now. By worse I mean that now, today, I'm so much nicer than I use to be. A year from now I will probably look back again and say today I was much meaner, much stupider, and many other things. The other day I began to write something on a peice of paper, yes something hand written for once in a long time, but I was interupted. It began with me thinking on the things that I've learned and how I live my life today. I can't say that I'm totally happy with life, for me happiness isn't a known given, but I can't say that I totally hate it either. Well.. yes I can.
Sometimes I wonder if this lifestyle that I've been leaning toward is really the life for me. Is this really what I want? I've always said it was obligation. So is this life really lived as a compulsery existence? I could say so. I think about now, today, where I could say that maybe some of the time I feel content with this life that I've made for myself. However, it still hasn't changed and I probably would choose a different path if I were given the chance. So do I really embody this ideal lifestyle set before me? Is this really habitus taking place? Have I become part of the endless cycle? The dictation of life? Yes, I have.
Everday I long for that me that would break out of my nice hollow shell. This pretty smiling face who lives the pretty wants-to-be-smiling life with the smiling achievements adorning the shameless facade that is my wall wants to be truly what is inside. I am not an empty shell, I am definitely the impassioned cynist and I have much to say about my life and what I feel about what has been, what is, and what will be. I'm an angry person with many angry, resentful feelings that want to explode on the world. People have pushed me to my points before, I really can't wait till the day that I totally get pushed over and explode.
The people I come across in my life now who I am suppose to belong to, belong with, interact with, whatever with. These people really don't give much of a shit about me. No matter what they do, what they say, what they try they will never make me feel as if I truly belong in this place beside them. I will go out of my way to fix things for them, compensate for their mishaps, make them happy. In return, I get very little. I may get something, but those things totally never satisfy what I truly need to survive. I get wasteful debris as my compensation for all my excess thought. I've done much to restrain--why do I restrain? Because there are CONSEQUENCES for me that shouldn't be there after my having been nice all this time. That's right, I'm living my life, like I always have, in these current situations with these people today, to ESCAPE PUNISHMENT. I surpress who I am to get no reward at all, I get no break at all, no I don't, all I get is this feeling of being fucking scared that I'm going to get punished for being alive. God damn the fucking world, hallelujah.
I want to get angry for once instead of being cynical. I want to hurt people and spit spiteful things into their faces, I want to tear out their hearts and smear it on the wall. Just once I would like them to understand what MATTERS to me, what really, truly matters to me. I would like some one to actually have my back, to make sure that right now I'm not crying alone while everyone else is laughing in the other room gambling. I want them to know what I need.
Time after time, I've written everything that I need and want on the wall, on the street, I've said it to their faces, told them exactly waht it was I need, what it was that I didn't need. I told, I tell, and I will tell again these things that mean so much to me. I could cut off my wrist and write it on the wall with my severed hand, and it still wouldn't matter because no one would ever notice that the white wall has turned red.
The world is oblivious to me because of this stupid embodiment, stupid habitus, and stupid modernity. Screw it all.