The Poison's Killer

Every morning I wake up and stare into the mirror. It's something I've been doing since about December. Just stare. Sometimes I missed my shower because I spent too much time just staring. Searching my eyes and my soul for something: for that strength I used to be able to call my own. At first, I found nothing but anger. Sadness. Depression.
Then I found me. He was gettin' high and watching Pantera videos, laughing at Dimebag (RIP) with handcuffs on. Not giving a fuck about who didn't like what about me, not worried about bills, not concerned about a goddamn thing. He was just living in the moment. Not letting the weight of the world bog him down, prevent or ruin his fun.

He wasn't trying to be, he was just being.

And then I kept having dreams about him. The more of them I had, the more he would interact with me, the more he would answer questions I would ponder throughout the day.
It's his attitude that got me, that made me fall for him - it was so the exact attitude I had when I was say...18 or 19. I had so much fun then.
Then he started asking to be let out. I was confused. Then I remembered I walled him off, separated him. I thought that he was a detriment, 'cause when he got pissed enough he did a lotta stupid things.

But I now see that the person I've been becoming since then, it's all been a lie. This calmer, mellower, more relaxed guy I've been trying to make myself isn't what I'm supposed to be. That kind of shit doesn't reside within me.

That's why I'm so fucking miserable.
That's why I'm always bored.
That's why life sucks for me.

Because I'm trying to be something I'm not.
Because I don't want to lose certain friendships.
Because I made myself into this predictable, boring, broken-record dumbfuck who just goes to work and comes home and that's that. Nothing spontaneous. Nothing out of the ordinary. Same old daily grind.

Fuck that.

I've realized with all this free time I have lately that I'm killing myself through unwanted change. I forced this upon myself. For what?

Everyone else's benefit.

Ya know what? I'm sorry. Fuck everybody. If they don't like my aggressive, spontaneous, mischief-loving, loud-mouthed personality, then can eat a fuckin' dick. Without salt. Or butter.

He's been uncaged for about a week now, slowly removing every little corrupted fiber I've created, every single brick from the walls I built, every last restraint I've placed upon myself.

So I've decided that I'm just not gonna bother with shit right now. I'm not making any plans. I'm playing the day moment-to-moment. I'll do what I feel like. I'll say what I wanna say, I don't give a fuck how offended people get.

I'm done being "socially acceptable," because I never really was, nor was I meant to be. I'm done making sure my look is toned down enough so I don't have to hear anyone's mouths about how they like me better with a normal hair color, a normal hairstyle, or no facial hair at all.

Fuck you. This is my life. This is my body. I'm the one who pays for my clothes. I'm the one who has to maintain the look. I'm the one who has to live life with it. I ain't out to impress anyone but myself, and I ain't even tryin' to do that 80% of the time. Being impressed is fleeting; the impression will be gone before I can count to 10, be it me or someone else.

Welcome the foul mouth. The ill temper. The aggressive benevolence. The growling, screaming, mischief-making sonuvabitch I was born to be.

When I get back from my little vacation, I'm makin' waves, motherfuckers. I'll make everyone forget about this fraud I've become...

...until then, I don't exist.

<<<< Tuesday, Mar. 01, 2005 || 2:25 PM >>>>
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