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These Humans
- These humans...
- No logic. No sense. No understanding. No compassion.
- Pure greed and utterly closed minds. Blind to themselves.
- Subtle projections wouldn't work on me. You gotta go for the big guns. Aggression, blame, fear... threats..
- Death would be a easy solution, I understand that. What else do you put in your left hand when all you have in your right is pain?
- I've been dishonest, though honestly, don't know all the exact moments that happened. I've been too busy noticing how others are not aware of themselves to realize how not aware I am, of me.
- I wanted to write about safe ways to escape from pain. Safe ways that make things better, that let the monsters starve from lack of attention.
- Often, it seems, safety is the biggest illusion of all. Time and the unforseen watch intently as the strong are picked apart at the symantic level, just out of sight, like the agony you feel in your heart as she screams so loud you can't hear anything else.
- I gotta write about my struggles, I'm stuck with me, I have to listen, I have to care. Sadly, my feelings are no one else's concern. My wrong idea of compassion doesn't let me see other's pain as a joke, so I'll never have the understanding I am suppose to. My wrong ideas are all I have, no one will guide me gently enough so my demons don't drown out their words. I can only hear their angry, threatening voices. It feels like betrayal. But, only their anger matters, or else...
- Just a basket-case of batshit. No wonder I like farms so much. Batshit is a great supplement for plants.
- No, I am just rolling a cigarette. No, I am not saying anything. No, I didn't say that. No, I didn't do that. No, that wasn't me.
- What's left of my reason fades away as the pressure comes down on me. Spreading your heavy misery only makes it stronger. Why is everyone asleep? I want so bad to wake from this nightmare.
- Press forward 'till my physical heart breaks and I die. I doubt it's much different for anyone else. I am so grateful to have understanding... so grateful to be so alone, so my pain doesn't hurt anyone else. I try so hard to show understanding and compassion. I try so hard to not let my anger act or speak. I'll never change. I'll never understand why it's OK to vent at another when they are not consenting to it. I'll never understand seeking to hurt someone out of fear, bordom, or for fun, as is done to me. And if I fight back too obviously, this ledgacy of shit just wins by burying me alive in it.
- The monster inside me wants to be seen. I told him to forget about it, to let go, to move on and just listen and watch no one else doing that. The monster inside me is stirring in his sleep. Or, is he awake now? He's the type to just lay there, smiling, making you think he's peacefully having a good dream when in reality, he is just loving his life. He knows he is winning and he will defeat me. I have no hope in my house of dreams made from the truest pain. Strong as iron. Nowhere to go inside there. Nowhere comfortable to sit. No peace or quiet. Everyone's yelling and fighting, dividing and conquering. You can die in there, and I will die in there. If you cared to look, you'd see my corpse, busy, constantly running around trying, in vain, to fix all the broken shit. Since it's ALL broken, what really happens is a lot of re-use and re-cycling and purging. Some things won't purge, worked in way too deep, with roots and welding. My skeleton is wearing down, trying to do the job of power-tools.
- The monster hides so well, I forget he's there. When I forget, that's when his slumber is disturbed, and he will insist I see him, like a screaming kettle that only I can hear. He loves it when I forget, it's the "proof" of my flaws and short-comings. "Proves" I am a liar, that I don't understand, that I have no compassion.
- Come here, go away. I love you, I hate you. What am I suppose to do with that? Is this a stupid contest? Or is it an anger contest? How about rage?? Is it rage??? I am one of the many experts on that one. I can listen to you complain and vent about pain other's have caused you for hours, but the mear mention of mine is annoying and goes "on and on". I was never a torturer, though techniquely, I know exactly how to do it. I refuse to understand how it would help me heal; to abuse others. It's too stupid to even consider. Being tortured gave me this monster, these demons, this nightmare life...
- The monster has nothing nice to say, that's for sure. Shhh, go back to sleep, little guy... Seems like everyone can see him with no problem, even though I know he is sleeping, and I am doing everything I can to forget him and the right things... He's not sleeping, I am lying to myself, as per usual, probably. Embracing pain for breakfast today again. I can't fight it, I can't forget it, it won't leave me alone. I confused it with a plate of shit, but this pain is way worse than that. No salt or sugar will help. I am a target for hate. That is why I was born. That is why I am still here.
