MISERY

PREFACE: this was a vent piece I wrote a year ago. I was having a really bad day. there's a few touch ups and redactions for privacy's sake. I'm putting it up because some of the words are really good. a few others, less so but I do in retrospect, like this.

Not gonna lie, I ain't doin’ too good chief. I feel some sort of double schizophrenic hyper miserable. Dad called me and my bro disgusting for being into men. He says things like “there’s no reason for you to be like that” and normally I just humor him and move on. Guys a prick, he finally hurt my feelings. I’d nearly forgotten what the feeling was like to be honest. It’s this kind of cold purple rolling feeling in my gut. The same place where I feel wrath and seething anger, but it’s cold and muted this time.

Don’t know what I hope to achieve by writing. Heard a friend say once it helps them process things.

I don’t know if it’ll help me. I think too fast for the writing, trip over my thoughts before I put them down. For every idea I convey I feel like I miss one. Hands not fast enough, also aching now.

Feel miserable, love my friends. As of writing I’m incredibly tired. It’s good to see most of my friends are okay with the exception of ****** they’re working on some college stuff and it’s got their guts real twisted in a knot.

I feel hopeless and scared and lost and I still got the anger at my core. It’s more muted then the horrible all consuming fire from my high school years but it’s still there lingering under every word, feeling, expression, emotion, and joke I make/say/feel. Sucks being mad, I’m mad about being mad.

Stop Being mad, Nah I wont. No reason anymore, left all the reasons at the front door, I’m a man with no mission or will, and no understanding of anything yet a head filled with half truths and fake knowledge used to build thin walls against worse half truths and lies. I’m completely composed of other’s ideas, I’m an absolute consumer, one of the worst kind. In the market place of ideas I’m completely broke, but I keep buying snake oils to sooth my ego and what little tangible problem solving intelligence I have left

I’m a walking exposed nerve, my entire body feels like a cavity in the mouth of society. Points are pointless, my ideas are failing me, discoveries I’ve made are fruitless. I have false realizations every week, bogging down the few things I actually learn and taking up important space in my brain. I’m killing myself with my own fantasies.

Someone I know thinks I’m self aware. I don’t feel self aware, I just think a lot in hyper negative doom circles. I am self aware because I know I’m not self aware. So I’m just not self aware, okay cool.