(no subject)
The past few years have been a hell of a ride. There are moments where I feel as though I've learned and grown, and others like now where it seems clear that nothing has changed. I've only confirmed through experience what I already knew to begin with.
I fucking hate people. I'm also a social creature, there's no real solution to that and though I feel rage and violence and the most intense and paralyzing desire to explode, i do not. Truly the biggest struggle I'm having of late is to appear calm and collected, and so far I've succeeded. I don't know for how long, or maybe it will become as easy as it was, before this failed experiment of trying to be open and loving.. i'm not that, and it led me down the road my logical self had predicted. so here I sit, enraged and heartbroken with no recourse other than a blank face, blank eyes, monotone voice, and yet still adrenaline fills me and I feel like an animal. still I hope for some act or some words said by another that could possibly justify a release of all this shit I'm holding inside. It doesn't come, it never comes. I drink again, I pick fights I can't win. I don't want to win, it's not about that. I want to be what I am and all I feel lately is one extreme or another and all I see are the creatures that are so different, yet disguised with flesh and lying faces, heartless eyes, empty shells that claim humanity. They're not though, they're not at all like me. They're ugly, twisted things, and I see it so clearly.
Maybe it's this place that has brought me to the brink. I always hated this city and though I've only been here a week I can already feel a certain old sense of cold hatred, but it's turning hot. I guess I am different. It's one thing to know a truth, but to experience it changes the truth itself, it becomes alive and real, it haunts me in my dreams.
Speaking of, the nightmares of late have been a bit worse than usual. In some I'm doing terrible things, things I won't do, in others I'm put through the most vivid and visual torments and yet I respond only with indifference. I haven't been feeling in my dreams, neither fear or anger or anything else, there's a nothingness. I seem bound by whatever fucked up theme and I follow through, there's no desire, there's nothing but mindless actions, one after the other, as though reading from a list. I suppose it's better than insomnia, at the least I do feel rested.
There's no point in elaborating, but I am terribly disappointed that all I knew to be true before this all happened is. I had been fooled at times into thinking myself insecure, or bitter, paranoid, etc, but no, I had chosen not to fool myself and had embraced a sickening madness that was sad and lonely and as empty and pointless as the dreams that so deeply disturb me in my waking hours.
I have no thoughts or desire for revenge, oddly enough. Another truth hard won is that those who warrant vengeance achieve it without my help, so i wait and watch and when it happens I see it, or hear of it, and I can fool myself into thinking that instead of continuing some endless cycle it is instead a form of justice. That those who have made me suffer now suffer, though that does nothing to alleviate my pain and I am left unfulfilled and further emptied when the depths of my understanding feel so kind as to remind me that it's all pointless philosophy, a coping mechanism. I survive in a world I have no control over, I am drowning and I will continue to drown until I die. I have already been forgotten and thrown out like a piece of garbage and now I have done the same to all those fools who dared try to convince me otherwise. There is no one and nothing, and so I continue to fill my head with knowledge and patience. I am going insane, I can feel it, I can see it, I don't know what it means or where it leads, but I feel that all that was beautiful about myself has gone and I recognize this thing that's left. I'm so detached it's as though i'm simply inside observing as it speaks, as it goes through the daily motions of life, it's interactions, it's cold and empty bearing. It's difficult to acknowledge that this thing is me. I don't know how I do what I do when I myself am not even present for it.
She said all those things she knew I wanted to hear but thought I never would. It was a a clever manipulation on her part, I've never been predictable and in honestly aside from her there's no one else in the world that has any clue as to who or what I am. I don't know what the future brings, I'm struggling to build one, I don't think I care.
I don't seek happiness or contentment any longer, I want to feel nothing and desire nothing. To find myself a functional thing, at some point in the future, that is my best hope. Math offers that peace, it's lucrative and ordered, and it seldom lies. I hate above all the dishonesty I see all around me, yet I am no better. I suppose everyone copes in their own way, though the reasoning behind it means nothing to me. I'm no better than anyone else and I have no lack of self loathing. In fact in this new chapter of my life I hate myself as much as I hate everyone else, and that itself may be a lie. I don't know what I feel, perhaps a dispassioned annoyance at all that is, was, and will be.
I need a new job, mine halts with bad weather, and offers little more otherwise. There's a lot that needs to be done to get out of this city and mindset.
I fucking hate people. I'm also a social creature, there's no real solution to that and though I feel rage and violence and the most intense and paralyzing desire to explode, i do not. Truly the biggest struggle I'm having of late is to appear calm and collected, and so far I've succeeded. I don't know for how long, or maybe it will become as easy as it was, before this failed experiment of trying to be open and loving.. i'm not that, and it led me down the road my logical self had predicted. so here I sit, enraged and heartbroken with no recourse other than a blank face, blank eyes, monotone voice, and yet still adrenaline fills me and I feel like an animal. still I hope for some act or some words said by another that could possibly justify a release of all this shit I'm holding inside. It doesn't come, it never comes. I drink again, I pick fights I can't win. I don't want to win, it's not about that. I want to be what I am and all I feel lately is one extreme or another and all I see are the creatures that are so different, yet disguised with flesh and lying faces, heartless eyes, empty shells that claim humanity. They're not though, they're not at all like me. They're ugly, twisted things, and I see it so clearly.
Maybe it's this place that has brought me to the brink. I always hated this city and though I've only been here a week I can already feel a certain old sense of cold hatred, but it's turning hot. I guess I am different. It's one thing to know a truth, but to experience it changes the truth itself, it becomes alive and real, it haunts me in my dreams.
Speaking of, the nightmares of late have been a bit worse than usual. In some I'm doing terrible things, things I won't do, in others I'm put through the most vivid and visual torments and yet I respond only with indifference. I haven't been feeling in my dreams, neither fear or anger or anything else, there's a nothingness. I seem bound by whatever fucked up theme and I follow through, there's no desire, there's nothing but mindless actions, one after the other, as though reading from a list. I suppose it's better than insomnia, at the least I do feel rested.
There's no point in elaborating, but I am terribly disappointed that all I knew to be true before this all happened is. I had been fooled at times into thinking myself insecure, or bitter, paranoid, etc, but no, I had chosen not to fool myself and had embraced a sickening madness that was sad and lonely and as empty and pointless as the dreams that so deeply disturb me in my waking hours.
I have no thoughts or desire for revenge, oddly enough. Another truth hard won is that those who warrant vengeance achieve it without my help, so i wait and watch and when it happens I see it, or hear of it, and I can fool myself into thinking that instead of continuing some endless cycle it is instead a form of justice. That those who have made me suffer now suffer, though that does nothing to alleviate my pain and I am left unfulfilled and further emptied when the depths of my understanding feel so kind as to remind me that it's all pointless philosophy, a coping mechanism. I survive in a world I have no control over, I am drowning and I will continue to drown until I die. I have already been forgotten and thrown out like a piece of garbage and now I have done the same to all those fools who dared try to convince me otherwise. There is no one and nothing, and so I continue to fill my head with knowledge and patience. I am going insane, I can feel it, I can see it, I don't know what it means or where it leads, but I feel that all that was beautiful about myself has gone and I recognize this thing that's left. I'm so detached it's as though i'm simply inside observing as it speaks, as it goes through the daily motions of life, it's interactions, it's cold and empty bearing. It's difficult to acknowledge that this thing is me. I don't know how I do what I do when I myself am not even present for it.
She said all those things she knew I wanted to hear but thought I never would. It was a a clever manipulation on her part, I've never been predictable and in honestly aside from her there's no one else in the world that has any clue as to who or what I am. I don't know what the future brings, I'm struggling to build one, I don't think I care.
I don't seek happiness or contentment any longer, I want to feel nothing and desire nothing. To find myself a functional thing, at some point in the future, that is my best hope. Math offers that peace, it's lucrative and ordered, and it seldom lies. I hate above all the dishonesty I see all around me, yet I am no better. I suppose everyone copes in their own way, though the reasoning behind it means nothing to me. I'm no better than anyone else and I have no lack of self loathing. In fact in this new chapter of my life I hate myself as much as I hate everyone else, and that itself may be a lie. I don't know what I feel, perhaps a dispassioned annoyance at all that is, was, and will be.
I need a new job, mine halts with bad weather, and offers little more otherwise. There's a lot that needs to be done to get out of this city and mindset.