One can only wonder how much of their life they're wasting away wondering. Hoping. Pleading. Crying out to entities who quite plainly aren't listening, or were fictitious to begin with.
One can only wonder how much headspace people waste to worry, concern over popularity, who thinks what about them, catering to the demands and desires of others. Murdering themselves in so many different ways by merely trying to obtain the favor of a miniscule part of the sum. Usually, it's the useless part of that sum.
One can only see the same shit every day before the very thought of it makes one ill. Before life's taste becomes bland and unsatisfying. Before you'd take death over another breath of the same air you've been breathing for years.
One can only fight off one's self for so long before both sides are exhausted. The sadness within the situation is as simple as neither will give up: they will both fight each other until they've expended everything they have left...when both parts would rather die fighting than to relent for even one second and allow the enemy even the slightest advantage.
One can only ignore the need to gorge upon the flesh of another for so long, before the physical need takes over whatever mental barricades have been placed. Before giving in just to make the hunger pangs stop, only to still be unsatisfied when it's all over...
How many times must I sit in silent contemplation of things I cannot mention to anyone else? If they knew, would they think differently of me? Would they still sing their praises, as few as they are? Or would they curse me as often as possible? Of course they'd curse me...because understanding is something most of them cannot grasp...something they expect to receive but are hesitant to give.
Fuck you all.
**********************
I am constantly going through change. I am only allowed enough time to adjust to the new change before another shows itself. It's been a hard year so far, but it's been very happy. I've never felt like this, I've never had so easy of a time with life. Granted, it's still got its challenges, but minus all the malignancies. Or maybe I'm just not giving them the weight to wear me down and slow my pace.
I don't like being looked at. I don't like beig stared at. I don't like being thought about. I don't like being in anyone's thoughts. Can I do anything about this? Fuck no. It's something I'm just going to have to accept. It gets easier, but I don't think I'll ever adjust to meaning something, no matter how small it may be.
This is where everything comes down. This is where I take through forceful acquisition. This is where I drop everything and everyone and put my hand back out only to catch what bounces back up. Everything that either can't or won't bounce stays on the floor to be swept away.
I'm pulling the last of this cancer from my soul, I'm finding the cause and I'm killing it. No more will it speak ill of me and spread lies. 9 is only a hair away and this is what I've been waiting for since I was 13. Next time we meet, one of us is laying in the gutter and the other is screaming to the sky, to send the call out to them all: the victor has risen.
And when my soul is rising through my scream, to inhabit the air around me and finally release the defect, to finally warn them all of what I'm capable of.
Let the wolves come. Let them follow my steps. There isn't a thing on this planet that is immune to me, not even me (at least not yet). Revenge wasn't meant for them, it was mine before that event ever took place.
Then I can leave this horrid place and make my home elsewhere. After all, I'm on the verge of being forgotten here, which is ultimately all I wanted. I wonder if they were able to sense this coming, if that's why I'm suddenly being avoided by virtually everyone.
That's fine. I don't need them, and I'm finally realizing I never did. All I need lies within myself and the art.
Everything else? Everything else has no use to me whatsoever.
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