I don’t care

Do you ever look at someone and have that little flash of violence in your brain? It’s like this little blood stain, just an insignificant drop on a white sheet that slowly spreads and spreads until there’s nothing to see but red. You can’t do anything, you can’t say anything, because if you do, you’re going to end up taking them by the hair and smashing their face into a pane of glass.

You want to watch them shatter like a china doll. You want the crunch like porcelain, but you know it will be even better because it’s bone. Maybe you dream about it. Maybe it’s a flicker on your conscience burning like a match under your brain until you want to take your own head and hit it against something until the blood starts to pound and congeal at the base of your neck where all that rage rests.

But you don’t do anything. You go home and you go to sleep. 

They talk and talk. It’s broken, filtering in through all the polluted thoughts. I make the right expressions, the proper vocal responses; a sigh here, a “well” here or there… You tell me your everything. All of you. Over and over. And you just don’t get it, do you? Can’t you feel my apathy? Can’t you see my face? Now here’s the thing…

I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! 

I don’t careIdon’tcareIdon’tcareIdon’tcareIdon’tcare. 

Why should I care about you when you don’t care about me? Why should I listen to you spew more stupidity and more emotional vomit than I care to? Why should I? Why? 

I pretend. I lie. It’s what I’m good at. You say you hate selfishness. But why don’t you take a close look at yourselves? It’s you you you you. Always. And you wonder why there’s creatures out there like me who feel nothing but hate and rage. I listen and listen and get nothing in return. I don’t even bother to tell you about me anymore, because I know you don’t care to hear it. I won’t burden you with my vitriol, because I refuse to waste my words on ingrates. You’re too stupid to understand, and I realize now that that is okay. You’re supposed to be stupid, sweetheart, it’s what makes us different. It’s what makes me a monster and you the fodder. 

Yes, that’s right. You with all your bravado and bullshit, you’re just prey. 

How does that feel?

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Rage: How fresh and new

I can’t even remember the last time I was truly angry. The last few weeks have certainly been a test of my waning patience. I may not get angry, but irritation is a daily companion. People just keep pushing… So much so that I was filled with this white-hot incredible feeling. I’d almost forgotten what something pure like this could feel like. This is real, this exists? It was so alien that I couldn’t help but take it for what it was, and wring it for every last precious drop of sensation it would give me. 

Oh but to feel, like a true, flesh and blood person… 

99% of the time I am not afforded that luxury, in any capacity, good or bad. What I wouldn’t give for some honest hatred or even a tantalizing stab of elation. But I guess those things aren’t for people like me. Being numb, begin apathetic, it’s just going to have to do for the rest of the time. 

I know where you’ve been . . .

I’ve been trying to keep busy. I get distracted easily, so it’s been really difficult for me to pin myself to one project or other. I keep starting things. My desire to do anything to better myself is extremely low. My eating habits have been terrible. I think I am just adjusting to a life without strict structure. I’m used to going in and having a plan, telling everyone what’s expected of them, and having a plan even for myself. Now everything is so open and uncertain. Sometimes I wake up too late to do much of anything. My boyfriend suggested that I make a list of what I’d like to do, and that has been working somewhat. 

I keep picking things up to read, but now I’m reading five things because I can’t stick to one. I haven’t been doing any art because I am too restless. I’ve been writing mostly, which fortunately has been helping me a lot. I forgot how much I loved it. 

I’ve arranged for a week away. The location is far away from everything and everyone. The woods back it endlessly. I’m a little nervous about staying by myself; my paranoia is very severe when I’m alone. I also tend to do things I normally wouldn’t. I’m planning on drinking at the very least. I need to let loose. Some severe vomiting and self-loathing should do me some good. I’ve had no way to vent my frustration over the last six months and I know I’ve hit overload. I think some punishment might help me get rid of it. I feel so pent up with rage that there are times that it feels like that is all I am. I want to have release without judgement. I want to do it without people scolding me for my lack of self-control. If I want to mutilate myself and bleed, it’s my business. I don’t want anyone’s help this time. I just want it to play out how it does so I can get over it. I can’t seem to do it without someone standing in my way. I’m tired of people protecting me; I don’t need to be protected.

I don’t think anyone understands just how much I need this. I am not sane without it. I will lose control of my life if I don’t. I can’t begin a new chapter until I acknowledge  what I’ve done and the consequences of how it has played out. I want to be something. I want this plan to work. I want to be a legitimate writer so that I never have to be put in that situation again. But I am so full of self-doubt and anger that it is impossible at this point. I can’t move.   

I want to spend those days out in the sun. Heat or rain, I’m going to be out there, exploring. I’ll probably have to go on foot because none of the quads are working very well and I’d rather not bother with gas. It will be better for me to walk anyway. I don’t want to be around anything human for a short time. I’m going to take my phone but try to restrict my usage of it. I’m going to bring all those books I’ve been trying to read and my computer so I can write to my heart’s content. The main reason I am going is to get a good start on either editing my current novel or starting a new one. I still can’t decide if I think the old one is worthwhile. It feels really childish and angry now. I can’t read through it without cringing. I’m too lazy to begin another one though, and I have very few ideas. I did start something else, but I’m not sure where I was going with it. 

I’m going to go as soon as a few things play out. Depending on the outcome and how long it takes, will determine when I leave. I’m hoping it will happen in the next few days so I can leave in the middle of next week sometime, but I suppose we’ll see. 

Self-doubt is a poison.

I’ve been so anxious for two days that I’ve barely been able to function. I feel like eating is an exercise in torture. I’m so angry, I shake from the physical effort it is taking to restrain myself and stay professional. I don’t know how one person can get away with antagonizing and hurting so many people. I know the hammer of judgment will fall heavy for this individual, however, it cannot be soon enough. She antagonized me and pushed me so badly that I left her a sobbing, useless mess and felt no pity. I didn’t even have to speak all the words for her to crumble away into nothing more than a tantrum-throwing petulant child. I can only hope that my actions, though surprisingly mild, will not be seen in an ill light by those above me. I swear I have done no wrong. There is no justice if this person is not severely punished for lying and tearing apart anyone she comes into contact with.

I can’t do this alone, and I’m terrified. I dream that they will come after me like a pack of wolves and rip me to shreds. I just want to get out of this intact, and preferably still with a job.

I will not fail. I will not give in. This is the one thing I must win.

Well, what the fuck.

I hate it when I go out of my fucking way and get ignored. I’m pissed about everything right now. I don’t think there is really much of anything that I’m not absolutely infuriated with to the point that I’m reconsidering this whole being a normal person thing. Because, you know what, it’s not fucking working. To top it off, it’s not even worth it. Honestly, what am I getting out of this? Is this a sick preview of my life to come? Bullshit, more bullshit. This huggy-lovey shit makes me sick to my stomach. No one can atone. No one can fucking take all that pain away and make anything better. I don’t have what I want. What I wanted is done and gone and I’m left with some shallow imitation.

I am what I am and there is no changing that. I’m a hedonist, so what? Don’t like it? Then don’t fucking live with me. I don’t want to ask for anything and I don’t want to beg for anything. I take what I want, and frankly I see nothing wrong with that. I’m sick to fucking death of people playing judge and jury over my life and thinking it makes a shit bit of difference. I do what I want regardless, which is why everyone is so angry with me at the moment.

And you know what really is fucking annoying? If I wanted a relationship like a normal fucking person, I would get married. Clearly I don’t have the desire. Sorry. I thought you’d figured out that after each time we fucked I shut the door in your face straight after. Did that not make my intentions obvious enough to you? I love you but you drive me nuts. If I wanted something to cuddle and hold instead of fuck me I’d have gotten a dog.

If you think I’m an ugly fat bitch, then what are you doing here?

There, I fucking said it.

 

pained

I’m not really sure what happened today. I spent over 10 hours at work, and I was so stressed out I didn’t take my breaks, or really get much of anything productive done. I’m getting pushed higher, slowly but surely. I’m slowly taking over other peoples’ responsiblities, and I can’t help but doubt myself. They all have a good year of experience on me, and though I think I am getting better, I can’t help but believe I’m still not good enough, just like I always thought. I’ve come a long way from not being able to go up to a counter and buy something, to where I am now—blatant customer service every day, all day.

I had a customer yell at me the other day in front of several people. They all turned to look, and in that moment I reminded myself that the foolish man didn’t matter, and nobody was going to dare try to humiliate and bully me in a room full of strangers. I got so angry I was shaking with rage, and trying to keep my voice calm and bite my tongue was extremely difficult. I had to clench my fists at my sides and smile. I wanted nothing more than to drag him across the counter and beat the living shit out of him. He would have deserved it.

I want to better myself. I want to learn this game as best that I can. I feel like nothing but a shackled bundle of secrets. It seems like all I do is lie, to the point where sometimes I can’t remember what is real about me and what isn’t. 

No one can know what is locked away inside.   

White hot rage.

Another bad mood. It’s late and I’m faking. I’m not at home, but somewhere else. I’m still typing on my computer, but using someone else’s internet connection makes me exceedingly paranoid. This will be bare bones, no specifics.

Cowardice, I hate it. Hiding behind something seemingly benevolent in order to obtain what one wants. I do it as well, but I always make my intentions known on some level. If someone doesn’t read the signs, it is not my problem. I like to strike with warning, see what challenge I get for it. But some people are not that way and are cruel because they know no better. Not that cruel is a bad thing…. Not when it is done by someone who intends it wholeheartedly. And really, was it just plain meanness in this situation, I wouldn’t mind it.  Because I’d know said person was just an asshole, and it’s be perfectly okay.

I’m angry, but I’m also cold. I don’t know what I should be feeling right now. Part of me says “seek revenge”, another says “fuck it, doesn’t matter”. Instead I’m caught between the two. I don’t have enough of anything to muster up the emotions required. I’m just blank, with anger below the surface. It’s too far away to feel. And really, I think what pisses me off, is that it doesn’t matter, not really. The whole thing is petty. Maybe I am imagining it. Maybe I’m the idiot, the cosmic joke. I’m taking it too far, when it was in fact innocently meant. But yet, it never is.

Oh well. Nothing I can do now, right? Why is it just writing it down calms me? Maybe because I know there is not much to be done about it. Over and done with, I suppose. I’ll get over it. But not before I inflict my own cruelty, so passive agressively. It’s going to be difficult, but what isn’t? I always did like facing an impossible challenge. It gives me something to mull over rather than that idea of not having a future.

Goodnight.