I’m a little frightened. I’m getting that feeling again, the one I’ve been managing to keep at arm’s length for a while now. I feel like I’m falling back into it again. It’s becoming more frequent because now I don’t have 9 hours a day to ignore it all and get worn out to the point where it doesn’t matter.
I feel so wrong and lost again. I’m not sure how it happened so fast, but everything is going back to hopeless and bleak and all I want is to just be so numb as to not care… I have no desires that I feel are attainable. I want to fall back into my little hole and never come out. I’m angry at my situation not because I am once again jobless, but because no one fucking gets it. This isn’t for me. How could they not see that about me? I don’t want to work the way normal people do; I want to go out and be independent in ways that aren’t considered normal or attainable. To me, there would be nothing greater than to walk out into the woods and never come back.
I want to make my own way, live or die, sink or swim. It’s my own fault and I deserve my fate if I am not good enough. It’s how things should be. I want to be tested. I want to be found worthy or unworthy; I care not which.
Everything is useless and meaningless and I should not spend my time filling in the cracks that were never meant to be filled. I am unwhole because I am nothing more than a pointless animal in a pointless cage with no value or meaning. You aren’t anything until you’re out, and maybe for some that sense of freedom can be gained by conventional means. If only it could be that way for me. The only conventional solution I can come to is complete and utter isolation for an extended period.
And I know how I can do it.
Sometimes insights come at a most inopportune time. It’s like receiving a calling on Prozac. Is it real, is it me? You wonder. How could I be the same person in that moment as I am sober? We’re two different people, in truth, though you would not know it. Scary thought. Someone’s coming.
Panic. Except I can’t. I just cover his eyes. Can’t see. Like a fucking elephant in the room or something. Makes it awkward, makes it wrong. Is it wrong because I said so, or because they said so. Nothing makes sense, nothing is real. Too much poisons the brain. Can’t think straight. In an awful, horrible fog. Hurts. Make it stop.
It doesn’t have to make sense. Because in the end it’s only me, and I’m the only one that matters.
Is it dirty that I didn’t wash my hands?
I finally quit. Full notice and all that. I’m strangely elated. It’s like climbing up a mountain weighed down by thousands of pounds, only to have it all lift away effortlessly when I got to the top. I’ve definitely come a long way from where I was; I am more capable than ever of leading some semblance of a normal existence. As much as I hate the hopelessness of being unemployed that has already begun to writhe somewhere in the back of my consciousness, that horrible, deadly anxiety has fled me.
I almost forgot what it was like to be free of the unbearable pain. I almost forgot what it was like to get up in the morning and no be so sick to my stomach that I have to lay down for a few minutes and brace myself before getting ready for work.
I am fucking free. And the best part of everything, is I finally realize it is all worth nothing. There is nothing to fear. I stood for what I wanted and didn’t relent. I didn’t crumble and go weak like I thought I would. The animal in me is so frighteningly sure, so confident that there is nothing that can touch me. I can make my own path, I just have to choose it.
I am without a master. Let those who scorn me feel what I felt tenfold. I wish them nothing but the purest, cruelest of suffering. Let their worlds fall down around them, crushing and destroying anything and everything that holds meaning to them.
Your time will come. I need not do anything for my revenge to find its way. The thought itself is enough, and the words I spoke, enough.
Destruction will find you.