Post by Machaeus on Sept 2, 2008 12:48:27 GMT -4
You know your morning's gonna be beautiful like a city dump's bowels when you physically abuse yourself more than you ever have.
As some of you may know, I have self-esteem problems. Huge ones. I have struck, bitten, cursed out, and even (as of this morning) lashed myself just to get out my frustrations at myself and others.
I say "others" because as often as I am enraged at my total inability to even tolerate what some f***tards might call "a healthy amount of noise", I am also enraged at the fact that the people in question don't even notice that I'm miserable when I am 100% certain I am radiating misery like the sun radiates heat in the summer in the Sahara Desert.
The thing is, I don't like to hurt other people. I have in the past, and it's one of my greatest shames.
I am in a place I don't like, in a city, and I LOATHE[/i][/size] cities on basic principle. As in, cities are horrid places to be - they're festering sores on the face of the planet, oozing pus onto the rest of the Earth. The only thing they're good for is an increased likelihood of finding what you might want/need. I am around more noise, people, buildings taller than the trees, and moving vehicles than I thought existed (exaggeration, but it gets my point across, no?), and I hate it. HATE it.
I am miserable. And you know what the worst part is?
I can't cry.
You read that right, I cannot cry about it. My worthless piece-of-sh!t body/mind/whatever has this dumb@$$ limit on itself that says I can only cry like once a year. Any more is impossible, apparently. Oh, sure, I can sob like a S.O.B. (son of a b****), but nothing comes out of my eyes. And have any of you ever cried and felt really, really good afterwards? You know that feeling? It doesn't happen for me.
I'm to that point again where I say "You don't know what the f*** you're talking about" to every idiot that has ever said about life "beats the alternative". BULL. SH!T. At least with the alternative you know some kind of peace, right? Presumably? No, that doesn't mean I'm going to try and find out, it's just how I feel. And yes, I said "again".
I have actually contemplated suicide before, but I've always been too cowardly to go through with it. My mother says she's glad I never have, but how can she be? I can't see it. I'd be glad to have a little sh!t like myself out of my hair if I were in her shoes, but maybe that's just my low self-esteem talking.
I have all this good stuff going for me, and all I can ever think about is how it'd be better off in someone else's hands...someone who, you know, actually deserves a break now and then.
I just can't see what people see in me. Sure, I'm a good writer. Sure, I'm kind to people. Sure, several people say I'm smart. But inside, I feel like I'm rotting alive. Physically, mentally, spiritually.
I don't take comfort in religion - any group that has hypocrisy seething through it isn't worth the space it takes up, in my eyes. My mother says she prays - how? I see no use to it, usually - it's not that I don't believe in God, it's just that she describes it as "asking Him to take away your pain", and I wouldn't wish my pain, my problems, on anyone. Well, except the bastard who yelled that I was his b!tch in my face, but that's because he's a self-proclaimed Neo-Nazi. Seriously. God I wish I didn't know him...
I just want to cry or die...but if it must be the latter, I'd prefer I never felt the pain.
And the second worst part, right behind my inability to cry?
I'd already taken my blasted medicine. Happy pills my @$$.
Ah well, at least I made myself laugh. That's always a good first step for me.
For those who actually bothered to read this whole thing...you have my thanks, even if I have no clue why the h3ll you care.
As some of you may know, I have self-esteem problems. Huge ones. I have struck, bitten, cursed out, and even (as of this morning) lashed myself just to get out my frustrations at myself and others.
I say "others" because as often as I am enraged at my total inability to even tolerate what some f***tards might call "a healthy amount of noise", I am also enraged at the fact that the people in question don't even notice that I'm miserable when I am 100% certain I am radiating misery like the sun radiates heat in the summer in the Sahara Desert.
The thing is, I don't like to hurt other people. I have in the past, and it's one of my greatest shames.
I am in a place I don't like, in a city, and I LOATHE[/i][/size] cities on basic principle. As in, cities are horrid places to be - they're festering sores on the face of the planet, oozing pus onto the rest of the Earth. The only thing they're good for is an increased likelihood of finding what you might want/need. I am around more noise, people, buildings taller than the trees, and moving vehicles than I thought existed (exaggeration, but it gets my point across, no?), and I hate it. HATE it.
I am miserable. And you know what the worst part is?
I can't cry.
You read that right, I cannot cry about it. My worthless piece-of-sh!t body/mind/whatever has this dumb@$$ limit on itself that says I can only cry like once a year. Any more is impossible, apparently. Oh, sure, I can sob like a S.O.B. (son of a b****), but nothing comes out of my eyes. And have any of you ever cried and felt really, really good afterwards? You know that feeling? It doesn't happen for me.
I'm to that point again where I say "You don't know what the f*** you're talking about" to every idiot that has ever said about life "beats the alternative". BULL. SH!T. At least with the alternative you know some kind of peace, right? Presumably? No, that doesn't mean I'm going to try and find out, it's just how I feel. And yes, I said "again".
I have actually contemplated suicide before, but I've always been too cowardly to go through with it. My mother says she's glad I never have, but how can she be? I can't see it. I'd be glad to have a little sh!t like myself out of my hair if I were in her shoes, but maybe that's just my low self-esteem talking.
I have all this good stuff going for me, and all I can ever think about is how it'd be better off in someone else's hands...someone who, you know, actually deserves a break now and then.
I just can't see what people see in me. Sure, I'm a good writer. Sure, I'm kind to people. Sure, several people say I'm smart. But inside, I feel like I'm rotting alive. Physically, mentally, spiritually.
I don't take comfort in religion - any group that has hypocrisy seething through it isn't worth the space it takes up, in my eyes. My mother says she prays - how? I see no use to it, usually - it's not that I don't believe in God, it's just that she describes it as "asking Him to take away your pain", and I wouldn't wish my pain, my problems, on anyone. Well, except the bastard who yelled that I was his b!tch in my face, but that's because he's a self-proclaimed Neo-Nazi. Seriously. God I wish I didn't know him...
I just want to cry or die...but if it must be the latter, I'd prefer I never felt the pain.
And the second worst part, right behind my inability to cry?
I'd already taken my blasted medicine. Happy pills my @$$.
Ah well, at least I made myself laugh. That's always a good first step for me.
For those who actually bothered to read this whole thing...you have my thanks, even if I have no clue why the h3ll you care.