I think my main problem as a person is that I don’t act on my inner feelings. I’m made weak by my own hesitation and bitter, unrelenting conscience. It’s my mother’s voice, not my own that keeps me from doing as I wish. I am chained by it more than anything else. I break free occasionally, but never for long. I suspect I return to reason simply because I know nothing else.
I hate nearly everyone; it is not a stretch to say so. I can’t help it; my nature is to be vengeful, to hold grudges that last a lifetime. They forget to tell you that sometimes that conscience of guilt can give you some awful side-effect like this.
I have been avoiding being on anyone’s bad side this entire time, ever since I left the only home I knew. I grew up knowing all the people in my small town, only to be dumped into a place where my misanthropic side was given absolute freedom. Four years in this shitty little dust bowl and not a friend to my name. I am so sick of my previous associations that I have made no new ones besides the required ones at work. It’s been a year there, I’m finally a manager now, and I am just starting to really see exactly why I am such an utterly fucked up individual.
I want to be horrible and merciless, but I let conscience hold me back from dealing what is deserved. It is not even guilt, but perhaps a deep fear of being caught, separated from the others and positively identified as a snake. Identified as the one causing discord. And I am always causing it, somehow, but seem too good to others to possibly be the culprit.
My inner self has no cares for anyone, but strangely it still obeys some sort of basic laws of fairness that I’ve developed over the years. I cannot stand to see people singled out, whether I hate them or not; I can’t stand for it. All treated the same or not treated at all.
I think I’m deathly afraid of being cornered again, being cornered by a confident adult and having them see through me and make me back into a child. So many times in my life I’ve been ganged up on by others and blamed for things that I did not do. No matter how much I proclaimed my innocence I was always lain with consequences regardless.
Being treated fairly was not usually a luxury I was afforded. Even now, I seem to have to fight to get even a scrap of it. Favoritism runs rampant. I used to do everything to get it, to have it on my side, if only to protect me from blame. But now I loathe it. It is nothing but cheap, pseudo respect, and it has no place in my life. I will no longer be sheltered by someone else—by their own ill-earned respect—even to escape my own misdeeds.
To hell with it. To hell with being hated. I’m sickened by my own avoidance. This has been nothing but four years of cowardice that I’ve been stupidly nursing. I feel like a spineless, worthless piece of shit sulking in the shadows. I’m not like this. I have to stop pretending that by being this way I am being aggressive and assertive. Aggressive and assertive would be facing my problems and damning the consequences. Getting out of this job if I must, or finding a way to make it work.
I don’t know anymore. It’s nearly four in the morning and I have no time to think on it.