Today, I had to explain to a 69 year old woman, that turning a fan on in a completely sealed 10×10 room doesn’t in fact “keep it cool” while you’re gone. And I wonder why the electric bill is so high.
I told my therapist that I hate everyone. I told her that her therapy is a waste of time, and her logic and the logic of those before her is flawed. I told her that everything human is flawed, tainted. They’ve penetrated it with their stink and it can’t be washed out. “But research shows…” she says, and hands me a paper on meditation and its effects on the brain.
Telling someone the truth is worse than anything I’ve ever felt. When I say it out loud, it makes me sound like I’m 14 and rebelling against my parents. I can see the disbelief in her eyes, the denial. I’m all wrong, they think.
Our superiority has been wasted on the weak. You go to your jobs, make money, fuck, have kids. All because numbers have you protected and safe. There is no monster at your backdoor, or a neighbor with a knife to your throat. We’ve weeded out the natural order of things, and we stagnate. Stagnation leads to decay, decay to ruin.
Every day is another step toward mediocrity. Every breath is wasted.
And she says this is unimportant and has nothing to do with what we’re working on. Apparently she never stopped to think that perhaps the reason I can’t sleep at night, the reason I hate myself and the people around me with such a violent passion, is because each day I live the reality of despising what I am.
I am so disgusted by it, I can scarcely function anymore. I will take and take until there is nothing more to give, because this is what I am and I know nothing else. I seek pleasure or die. There is no other reality.