[xx-6] Why Not

March 5th, 2011

I think most people hate themselves. I think they scrounge to find activities to distract themselves. I think they hope and wish the next thing they engage in will make them really appreciate life. I think people are marred in a perpetual shit storm and have no clue how to get out of it. I think that these feelings of loss and restlessness prompt them to engage in any and all sort of activities to supplement what they think they aren't getting.

I wish I had a better view of people.

I see everyone. The "strongest" and "weakest" always running from something. Always capable of making an excuse. So protective of their ego or feelings that the truth is all but a myth. It will always bother me. I don't presume to have an answer.

There's so many reasons to hate being alive. It's a tragic and ironic comedy how we live as humans. Own that fact. Own how terrible we are and can be. Own how little you care. Own how much you aren't living up to your potential. Deal with the fact that you feel for things you'd like to believe you shouldn't. Reconcile how shitty your friends can be. Understand the evil you are capable of.

I need more people like me. I don't need friends. I don't need an ass ton of cash. I need people who are in every moment. Who can't escape because they've chosen to realize it all. I need such a dramatic feeling of potential and realization that it causes instant and persistent change. I kind of feel I'm going crazy. I don't want to suffer people. I don't want to watch people suffer themselves. It's too easy to hate everything, everyone, and yourself. Way too fucking easy. Grow a fucking pair of balls and be someone.

I wish I could translate to people how much I don't care who or what they are when they elect to be a weak fuck up. I encourage people to kill themselves. Isn't that fucked up? What kind of human am I? I don't care how many times you were molested or beaten or harmed, your current situation is this. What the fuck are you doing with it?

I get shaky. I sit and hear myself digress and my hands quiver at the keys because of how...."what the fucking fuck"....I feel about shit. It can only be digressed upon in drunk digressions at steak n shake? It can only matter in a marginal conversation from time to time? I want to fucking break something. I want to beat someone's fucking head in.

The worst thought is resolving myself. God fucking forbid.