The Sound of Screaming Suddenly Stopped
The Sound of Screaming Suddenly Stopped
The Sound of Screaming Suddenly Stopped
It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It doesn't matter whether or not the outcome is favorable. It doesn't matter if I have to suffer momentarily in order to become something better. Since I'm addicted to confrontation anyway, I guess this is inevitable.
It doesn't matter what others think of me - they don't have to life in this body everyday. They don't have to perform the maintenance required for me to continue to function. No one else is paying my way, no one else is taking care of me - just me. There are no easy ways to take, no simple answers. I am this thing whether I like it or not, I can either accept it as it is or work with what I've got - either way, I've got to stop running around acting like I can please everyone, because I'm not one of those people who will spend his life making everyone happy; poison has never induced happiness, unless the user destroyed enemies with it - and even then someone on some end had to suffer.

I need to stop pretending I'm something I'm not. I am not meant to have so many around me, I am not meant to hold onto relationships of any kind, and I am not meant to accept these facts as truth - it's the nature of my beast. Unless I have some source of mental anguish, I'm ultimately not happy: so in a way, I'm pretty fucking "happy" right now. I'm not angry or depressed, stressed or unhappy, I've just got much internal warring. And I love it.

I'm just letting go. Fuck worrying about tomorrow. Fuck worrying about yesterday. My mind will remain focused on today.
Fuck restraint, fuck what everyone else wants. The unfortunate fact of the matter is, I'm just not happy trying to be something to anyone. I'm not happy being anything for anyone period. I'd rather be my worthless little self, tucked away in his corner and only comes out when he wants to. It was so much better that way. No having to leave the comfort and staying away for days, no having people see the things that make my existence worth another day of breath; they always expect more from you that way. I miss no one knowing anything about me - there were always surprises as a result of everything that you did. Yet there's that satisfaction of being predicatble, from people knowing you and your habits well enough to know the next words from your mouth, to know how you'd react, to know how you'd potentially feel...
...but the problem with that is the person they thought they knew...
ISN'T
ME
...

It was nothing more than the shell I created to endure life in this world that I don't agree with and hate with everything I've got. It was nothing more than the padding one wears to absorb the impact. It was nothing more than the capsule that dissolves once the saliva makes contact.

It was nothing more than a fucking quarantine.

For me...
...for you...
...for all of us...

I'm breaking the shell and letting the environs corrupt me. I'm removing the padding and suffering the bruises and lacerations. I'm sticking the capsule in the mouth of life and letting the harm that I am spread through it's entire being in an osmotic fasion.

I'm lifting the quarantine from the area and letting the pestilence run free.

Soon I'll know what freedom feels like. And I'm not letting anyone or anything put me back into the restraints again. Finally this long, grueling change cycle can end and I can be myself again. I just feel sorry for everyone else...

...or at least I used to...

<<<< Tuesday, Feb. 01, 2005 || 1:36 PM >>>>
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