Failure. Failure. Failure. What else is new?

I failed my driving test. Big fucking surprise. I knew that I failed it about halfway through, and stopped giving a shit.

I’m a good driver, I know that. I’ve seen the way other people drive, and it just so happens that actually believe in using a blinker and not cutting people off. Even during my test I got cut off twice in just 20 minutes. Some guy changed lanes, pulled right in front of me, no blinker, then went moseying on over to the other lane again—surprise surprise, no blinker. I guess he couldn’t make up his mind. And I ask myself, HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU FAIL? If completely worthless twats are allowed behind the wheel, that says a great deal about me failing. It makes me look like the biggest fucking idiot in existence.

I was so nervous. I got stupid. We were going down these one way streets for awhile, then he told me to turn…guess what? I never even stopped to think, “hey, is that a one way street, or a two way?” So guess who ends up on the WRONG SIDE OF THE FUCKING ROAD? He had to tell me, because at first I didn’t even notice, because there was no oncoming traffic, and the tiny little road looked exactly like all of the others (and it didn’t help that the yellow line was dotted and faded). I was too far up in fucking numb-land to notice much of anything. I was just trying to pretend that I wasn’t there making a moron of myself as I am so inclined to do. Fucking idiot. Godfuckingdamnit.

When we pull into the DMV again, I pretty much knew I’d failed. I drove 25 through the school zone (supposed to go 20), because I honestly had given it all up already.

I’m quiet. Somehow the whole time I held every ounce of that self-hatred deep in my gut, buried under layer upon layer of cold, bitter numbness. I even smiled and laughed at the man’s attempts to make me feel better. I see my mom over by the door smiling and waving and I’m thinking to myself, “When I get home, I’m going to shoot myself.”

My mom had decided to do all the grociery/WalMart shopping on the same day as the test, much to my annoyance (I got nervous having to stand around all morning waiting for 11:00 to roll by). So right after the failure we’re about to go back to another store. I finally couldn’t hold it in anymore, and let myself cry quietly. My mom went back into the DMV to schedule another test before we got back to the weekly shopping, and all I could think, was “if I only had a gun…”. It’s ironic, because we had just finished picking up bullets at one of the stores we were at, so they were right there in the back seat with my name all over them.

Instead I dug around my purse, and much to my delight, found my little tool. It has a nice little knife on it. I finished before my mother got back, rolled down my sleeve (which lucky for me, was black) and continued staring out the window listlessly. It must have taken 2 hours to get home, with all of the bullshit she stopped to do. I told her again and again, “I just want to go home”, and ended up staying the car while she did whatever hurriedly. It’s probably good she took awhile, as I’ve had some time to calm down a bit. Not much, but enough that I should be able to keep myself from a nice suicide mission in the woods.

My father hasn’t even said a word to me since I got back, didn’t ask or anything. Whatever. I don’t care anymore.

Everything was hinged on that one fucking test, and now I’m back to square one, yet again. And because the DMV is so busy they could only get me in for the middle of fucking November! So I opted to go to another town (quite a ways away), for next Friday. I’ve never even been there, which in my book, makes it a VERY bad idea. I don’t know if I will go with that one or not; I don’t care at this particular point. It’s virtually over as far as I’m concerned. I failed too badly anyway. I can’t even look for a job now, because I still have no driver’s license to show them.

I’m beyond pissed; I can’t even feel anything right now. All I want is sleep, preferably something permanent. But even in that area, I am a failure. Too much of a coward, too fucking stupid. I just want it all to end so that I don’t have to pretend that I care anymore.


The death of one is a tragedy—or is it?

I think I’ve passed some sort of mental tolerance. I have this suspicion that I’m not all well, especially in the head. I don’t mean depression, or numbness even, but just…well, to be quite honest, there may not be any sanity left in this skull of mine. My inhibitions seem to be fading at an alarming rate, and even my anxiety seems to be calming down somewhat. I believe it’s like the calm before the storm….

To snap, it is something I haven’t done in its entirety—been close, but never followed through to completion. But I keep wondering if I just wasn’t attentive enough, that maybe…maybe I missed something. It may have happened already.

I find no tragedy in the individual, no feelings of connection, to me they are just another product of the group. That’s why I’m beginning to understand why it is so easy for the world to completely ignore me, to write me off, and consider me dead.

In psychology it’s mentioned that we often consider people outside our group to be all the same (dare I mention that I have no ‘group’?). Sure, but at the same time, I’m nothing special, I know it, I accept it. There were hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions before me who thought something similar. I am the product of the people around me, the things I was exposed to—that is what created each of us. We are not unique, we are not beautiful, we are but copies, and not even lithographs, but shitty printed out pictures in dull colored ink on crinkled white paper.

I think that in my anonymity I might find rest, even when my ego would wish for some sort of recognition, some sort of validation….

Validation, isn’t that what we all secretly hope for? That some wonderful person will tell us how great and unique we are? That somehow because someone has thought it, it must be true?

I doubt myself more than anyone should be able. Failure after failure has me sickened by the sight of myself. People say you can do things, you can be somebody, but I do not trust the source of those words. They come from the same people who claim that life is wondrous and great, even when all you see on the news are rapes and murder, people who don’t give a flying fuck about anyone but the interesting story, who forget that when there is a massacre, each death has a story.

I pride myself in my complete lack of feeling, my darkest part, my apathy. I see each person as one, and still will shed no tears as I see news reports of person after person dying. I shed no tears for the ones who mean nothing to me. I can barely shed tears for myself. What is there to pity, after all? I am but a fool, and they are but more copies thrown into the raging fire. We all burn….

My end…my finish. Why is it that some days death is the only promise that seems worthwhile? These thoughts, these ways…if only the world could feel them…could break and fall apart like I have. I’ve picked myself up, but there is nothing but the basest of things, the primal, the urge toward complete annihilation, chaos. I tire of straight rows and sorted things, this human way that was developed by the species that is most afraid…. I am not afraid of what is outside the box, the gilded cage, I fear what is inside it, what it could do to me. It has shattered me a thousand times, because I refuse to stop fighting the machine…. I would wage war rather than wave the white flag of surrender. But there is only so much time. And my time…it runs out.

The death of all is just a statistic.

Heroes and Villains: is there a difference?

Villain is only a human definition, it is not a term that can be applied to any other living thing and retain its original meaning. It’s purely a human idea. And as a purely human idea, I will say…it sucks. A hero is just a villain who kills in the name of something, but that hero STILL kills. In fact, if you think about it, it’s the villain who has accepted himself for what he is, and the hero who denies his misdeeds. Killing is killing. To pretend it suddenly has some magical ‘justification’ is just denial. Embrace your inner monster, accept your own evil. We are all disgusting traitorous monsters, we just need to accept that fact and cease dressing up our endeavors as ‘humane’ or ‘right’.

I sat down the other day and tried to define ‘evil’, which I don’t even believe in. A dictionary definition said something like: deeply immoral and malevolent. Before I start throwing a tantrum over the word ‘immoral’ and how it doesn’t exist, I will say that malevolent is a terrible definition. Already, even if I did believe in such things, it is apparent that their are huge inconsistencies. Malevolent: wishing evil to others. So we’ll take that as wanting ‘bad’ things to happen to other people, perhaps we can stretch that to ‘wanting to hurt people’, more similar to the word malicious. Generally evil people want to hurt others, correct? So if evil is wishing for bad things to happen to others, or wanting to harm people, what does that make a hero? Heroes kill villains. They do murder, yes? They want bad things to happen to ‘evil’ people. So now is evil defined as ‘killing only those who are undeserving or innocent’? Is a hero innocent? If a villain kills a hero because the hero tries to kill him (simple action/reaction), does that not equal ‘justification’?

If a villain kills with no reason in mind, then what is he doing ‘wrong’? He is not all that ‘evil’ by definition if he is killing indiscriminately, is he? If we were to just define evil as ‘murder, or harm’ then the definition would be too broad…. Heroes kill with the intent of harming, with malevolence…. They are singling someone out and taking their life, which by those definitions IS evil, worse than killing with no purpose, if you think about it.

It’s almost comical how this can all be twisted around. It just shows how flimsy human ideas are to begin with, and how bias can turn anything into “right” and anything into “wrong”.

So let’s take this another way, as I can already see a few flaws in the current analysis.

Heroes kill with the intent of saving lives. Take one life, save many, if you will. So evil then, is someone who kills/harms others either with intent or with no intent (to include all of the villains, of course). If the intent is to save lives in future, then it is not evil. If the intent is to only take lives or cause pain, then it is evil. Long definition, but at least there aren’t half so many loopholes.

With that in mind, Heroes take lives to save lives, Villains take them, period. What a double standard.

This is a prime example of just how fucked up human ideas really are. It’s like trying to figure out why sharks eat like garbage disposals. I mean a license plate? You know they can’t be THAT dumb, and if they are, that sure doesn’t explain how they’ve survived the damn near longest out of just about everything.

So basically, anybody who thinks that they are killing someone who is going to take lives, is technically ‘good’, right? Which would make the villain a good guy if he decided to go and kill a hero who was going to take out some of his villain posse. Taking life to save a lives, right?

That’s just it, the damn truth, right there: You can’t define evil, and you can’t define good when they are biased ideas to begin with.

Anybody can say something is good or bad, heroic or villainous. Each person’s idea of what those things are, are different. Some people think it’s okay to steal if they’re poor, others think it’s downright evil.

The conclusion that can be drawn from all of this is that humanity is the ONLY species that believes in such things. If we’re the only one, that says quite a lot right there. Other animals plain just don’t give a shit (or don’t have the same capacity for stupidity as us evolved apes), which is precisely the way it should be. Once you start trying to decide who’s opinion is right, you know that there must be biases if there isn’t a common consensus that can be applied to everything.

Therefore, good and evil are but ideas. In nature, who loves balance, there is only giving and taking, no definition of which is better or worse, “right” or “wrong”. They simply exist. Animals do what they will (both “good” and “evil” by human standards), yet you never see the scales tipped any which way for long. If the natural world can exist when it is filled with creatures doing only what is good for themselves, what does that tell you? It is humanity that is filled with discord, it is humanity that has so many problems, while nature resides just as peacefully as ever while each animal fights to the death.

We try to make definitions and be selfless, yet WE are the ones who struggle to survive, not nature which is based off of selfishness. It’s a beautiful thing.

Too dead to die. But not a puppet…never a puppet.

No one ever stops to warn you that control can get out of hand, that there is such a thing as being toofocused on self monitoring. They also never tell you that taking full control is not only liberating, but it can make you feel like a complete fool—someone beyond repair, beyond stupidity…. You find yourself acutely examining your choices, back in the same vicious cycle of self-loathing and an identification with worthlessness.

I ask myself repeatedly, “just what have you done?”, then the later, “what are you planning to do?”. All I see behind me are tatters, a trail of miserable mistakes made by something that is so imperfect it is sickening. Ahead, in that world they call “future”, I see a wreck trying to pull of normalcy, trying to become something it can never be—is incapable of being.

I’m pulling my own strings, but it’s a sad show, not worthy of a master or an audience. I’m beating a dead horse, so to speak. I use something that should never be used in the first place, and make myself out to be even weaker…. I’m worse, so much worse.

The inaction is driving me, literally, insane. I talk to myself more than ever, and at times I find myself speaking aloud to no one in particular. I try everything to occupy this mind, but none of it seems to last for long. I tried interacting with my supposed ‘friends’. They bore me beyond belief. I have nothing to say to them, for they hold no interest to me. They comprehend nothing but the mundane existence of a typical youth, something I surpassed without even sampling. I never gave myself that chance at “freedom” everyone talks about having as a teen or in their 20s. I don’t care; I don’t want it.

I’ve been doing many things lately, things that most would be shocked at. For instance, I’ve been acquiring makeup supplies, though I have no intent on wearing any (quite frankly, I don’t even like makeup). Late at night when I have nothing better to do, I use my face as a canvas. I wash it away after a few minutes, then back the restlessness comes. I’ve been frequently going on ridiculous celebrity gossip sites, reading shit about people I couldn’t give a flying fuck about, and laughing bitterly in the dark over the stupidity of it all. Hours upon hours staring at the computer screen looking at clothes or other bullshit I could buy.

I feel like Jack in Fight Club. I’m just doing it to do it, when I don’t even care deep down. I’m using materialism as a pathetic cover to drown out the reality of it all. I’m too aware, that is the problem. That’s why I’m depressed, that’s why I want to die…. That’s why nothing I do makes a shit bit of difference, because I know in the end that I make no difference. So really, what should this world based on nothing and my life of nothing mean to me? That’s exactly it. It doesn’t mean fucking shit. Life is a pointless endeavor for me, just as it is to every other thing. We live, experience, then die. What does it matter if it happens sooner rather than later? I won’t remember this anyway.

Want to hear more useless information? I suppose I’ll just say it…. I’ve lost nearly…35 pounds since the middle of July. I should be happy about it right? But I’m so caught up in my hate and my pessimism that all I can see is the fact that my clothes don’t fit, that I have even less of a chance of getting a job because I can’t look presentable. I’m disgusted because it isn’t good enough. I’m still weak, still as useless as ever, just a bit skinnier. And I know if anyone even looks at me, it’s only because they are vain fucking assholes who only care about what they see. People who are even beyond my own nothingness and pointlessness, if that is possible.

Now I’m to the point of hating anyone thinner than me, because I know that they don’t have to work half as hard at it as I do, with my hormones so damn out of wack that sometimes even the lightest days of eating with the most exercise can’t coax my body to lose weight. I look at 800 calories as too much some days. 500 is an okay day. The best ones are where I barely touch food at all, after I’ve slept long into the afternoon. Then I get outside and walk for 2 hours (harder than you think, when you barely eat as it is…), then maybe take 30 minutes to do crunches and pushups, if I feel particularly in the mood. Every day, day after day. I hate to say it, but this focus…it keeps my from dwelling on suicide. I have a goal, something to aspire to. When I go to sleep, I know when I wake up the next morning I’ll go weigh myself and see if my work has done anything. If it hasn’t, it’s a day of more focus, where I make myself do better. It’s all short-term gratification, the only thing I have to live on anymore. Is this what I am? Is this what I’ve come to?

When people talk about insane, you assume that those who are insane probably don’t know it…. Quite the contrary. I know all too fucking well. I know what is wrong, I know how to fix it, yet I don’t. I can’t bring myself to care, to struggle to free myself of some of this burden. I’ll let it drag on and on….

I believe secretly, as I always have, that a part of me takes pleasure in this destruction…. I’m two pieces, meant to be separated. They can mingle together, sure, but not for long. It becomes explosive, as each goes too far. The sadist, the masochist. The fighter, the hater. The numb and the evil. The fury and the calm. All pairs that though upon first glance, seem to be a fair match, prove to be murderous on a long term scale. A concoction for suicide.

I want to last, I want to try, but with in such a short time, I already feel as though I lost this race a long time ago. It was over before I even began. Even if I do manage to pull myself along, I will never be like everybody else in the sense of being complete, or being happy. I could have everything in the world, and I will likely become just as dissatisfied and hateful of it over time. That’s all it is: time. Even if I were to do what I set out to do, the glow from that success will only last so long. It will fade and die out, just as it always does in me.

Just as it always will.

Everything will come back to haunt you.

This week has been ‘reconnect’ week or something. All of this shit has finally hit the fan, at the exact same time, rendering said fan utterly useless. It’s as though irritating news travels in packs, just to spite those who are already crumpled to their knees from the burden of life strapped to their back. It never goes away once its started; it always comes back. It’s the way of things, of the world, of the people in it. They just cannot let things lie, they have stir you all about and try to get you to react, negatively or positively.

I tell the world, again and again, I do not want friends. I want no connection to anything, nothing to tie me to this place or to abuse me past this point I’ve already reached. For some reason, a few nights ago, I got it into my head to mess around in a chat room, just to see what would happen. I end up talking to this person who starts getting emotional about everything we’re talking about. They go on the defense constantly because they seem to assume that I am talking to them, thus I must want to hurt them in some way.

This person says to me ‘you’re all the same’, and I just sit back in my computer chair and laugh, thinking to myself, ‘if you only knew…’. Somehow we ended up talking for a few hours, after several attacks in my direction (based on ridiculous assumptions no less), but we still manage to have an interesting conversation between all of that. Then all of a sudden, nothing. I wait about 20 minutes, get impatient and shut off my computer. My tolerance for human beings runs at about 0, so the only thing the conversation did was get me angry and prove my point that people are assholes anyway, so it shouldn’t really matter.

I get up the next morning, switch everything on, and am bombarded with offline messages. Not only did the mystery person leave me a few, one of my old friends (who I admittedly consider dead at times) has decided to message me. Mystery person had logged back in a few hours after I left, because allegedly their power shut off. Now see, the night before, I thought I’d get away with it clean. I made the stupid mistake of going into a chat room in the first place, so really, I probably deserved to get burned, but I was hopeful that I would disengage myself from the entire activity all together with no reminders.

Mystery person has sent me a friend invite, which I mull over for a few hours, trying to gauge my own reaction. The main reason I couldn’t decide? I knew that if I didn’t accept the invite, I’d be bored. How fucked up is that? When I sat down and thought about it, I didn’t even give a flying fuck about the person or their problems. The only reason I talked to them was because I had nothing better to do at 2 in the morning. While I’m busy thinking about that, I get sent 2 emails. I go to check on those (while IMing with long lost friend). They turn out to be forwards from my mom, but going into my email account I realize there is an email in the ‘spam’ folder. I click on it. Guess what? Another long lost friend has decided they want to contact me. I haven’t talked to her for probably over a year now. I look at the email in amazement, thinking to myself, “now I already sent you to the land of the dead, goddamnit…stop being resurrected!”.

It just isn’t fair, it really isn’t. Why can’t these people go attach themselves to someone who gives a shit? By the way, I ‘declined’ mystery person’s friend invite without a backward glance after recieving the email from my long-suspected dead friend. I don’t need any more people latching onto me when their attentions are completely unwanted. I have one person I talk to, and that’s it! (And you know who you are…). Everyone else, well, I’m sorry (okay, maybe I’m not…) but fuck you. I’m sick of your pathetic attempts at friendship and being thrown in the garbage when you find someone ‘better’.

I have plans for all these people now, perhaps some revenge, who knows. Dish best served cold, right? I’ll participate, I’ll treat you good…then I’ll drop you, just like you stupid fucks deserve. They always come crawling back once they realize what they’ve lost. Too bad they lost more than the person they used to know (she no longer exists), but they’ve lost what little chances at redemption that they had. All in all, they lose. I win. And that’s all that matters.

As for coincidence…. It’s bullshit like this that makes me want to believe in fate. But I don’t. Mostly I just like to think of it as hateful thinking bringing about the beauty of the universe. This beauty, it’s revenge. And it’s been a long time, a long wait, and I’ve had enough happen to me to deserve a chance to cut through these people, sever whatever is still human in them. I don’t believe in the ultimate ideas of right and wrong, but I do believe that the strong can do whatever is in their power. Tearing down the weak and needy is first on my list of priorities. I’ll have to save my plans for myself for a little later, if I can convince myself to continue waiting, that is.

Cold metal. Cold mind.

Yesterday, for the first time in several months, I finally got out the .357 to mess around with. I can’t shoot for shit with handguns, so I definitely could use the practice. It was the typical shooting session where I pretty much stand around while everyone else shoots. I don’t really need any help with rifles or shotguns; I get very scary with those. When I was younger I had this pellet rifle with a scope. Needless to say 2 years of fucking around with that in the backyard shooting leaves I could barely see and birds that flew by made my aim accurate. Even so, it’s always good to practice even more if you have the opportunity, but naturally I  never got the opportunity yesterday.

I’ve shot probably 3 small boxes of bullets for both the 9mm and the .357 combined, so obviously I know not to expect perfection. It will take boxes and boxes and boxes for me to get the accuracy I want. But that never stops my dad from saying all his typical bullshit about how I should be using a smaller caliber handgun, etc. He complains that I expect too much, yet he’s the one saying that I should try a different gun. He bought me the fucking gun! I just don’t get it, honestly. It’s as though if no one is as perfect as he is (which he is ISN’T), they might as well give up. He’s been shooting guns since he was 18, of COURSE he is going to be better than me. He thinks 2 or 3 shooting trips a year are going to make me better? I’m probably taking this all wrong, but it just gets me angry when I think about all the things he said were going to happen but didn’t. Lies, and I’m fucking sick of them.

If you want the truth, he’s probably one of the main contributors to my reasons for quitting college. I got tired of his constant bitching about finances to the point where I was beginning to wonder if he was deliberately trying to make me feel guilty about how much it all cost. I know he wasn’t; it’s just the way he is: obsessive. He’s the sort that will throw a tantrum because my mom and I left the house to go to town after I literally haven’t left the house in over a month. To him it’s a waste of fuel, and means we’ll end up spending money (oh yeah, like spending $20 a month is a crime…) When it goes on for months and months, it weighs on a person. And now that I am, yet again, doing nothing…I feel even more useless. I admit that I’ve lost quite a bit of respect for my dad. I feel bad about it at times, then others…I believe it is for the best.
Severing dependence is key to continuing this existence, I know that. It’s hard to accept sometimes, as it goes against my whole ‘loyal’ personality. I already did something similar with my mom, after all the shit that happened. So I guess this is the way of things, of me…. I can only take so much before I start secretly striking back, whittling down what little mental need I have for people, until it someday, turns to a pile of dust. Then, eventually, the wind will scatter it, and it will be gone entirely.

Never soon enough.

I’m just barely making it through the days here. Quite a few things have happened, further pissing me off, providing even more reason for hatred of anything and everything indescriminately. The world just doesn’t seem to want to leave me at peace, proding at me through the bars of this cage relentlessly…. It’s always one thing after another, it can never just be a nice balance of good and bad.

My patience has worn so thin I feel like I’ll explode. I did yesterday, actually. It was one of those ‘last straw’ type of things. I just don’t care, and those very few and far between days when I do…I can’t wait. Everything is rushed because I need it done. I hate being controlled like that, allowing myself to be controlled. It’s ridiculous, unnecessary, yet it happens because I just don’t have anything left to fight against it.

Driver’s test is still on the 29th, and I feel like I can’t wait that long. And if I fail it, then that might as well be the end of me, as I just can’t seem to accomplish anything, only failure after failure.

I want a job now so that I don’t have to be home anymore, and I want a job now so that maybe, somehow through this sickening haze I’ll see a semblance of a future. Maybe I can stop this then, or at least keep it at bay if I’m too preoccupied to think about it. ‘Now’ is too far from where I need to be. I want to skip ahead a few weeks and just have this all done and over with so I might live a little longer.

I want to know, is what it is. I want to know, for just once in my worthless life, what it’s like to be completely cut off. I want out of this house, I want away from everyone. I want to know, when I come home from my piece of shit minimum wage job, that there is going to be a shitty house with no one in it waiting for me.

Strange goal, but it’s what I want. I’ve thought and thought about it, and finally coaxed it out of all of this bullshit going on in my head. I won’t make it, is all I seem to keep thinking. I realize that is a defeatist attitude, but hey, live my life for a day, won’t you?