Daniel_
January 28th, 2011, 10:25 PM
So, here i am, feeling as shitty as ever, wondering what the hell am i doing here? Not just, here, on this particular website, nonetheless the internet. I'm talking on a bigger scale. . . A much bigger scale, actually. I'm wondering what the hell i'm actually doing with... With this, this thing that some call life, others torture; and me? Well, I suppose you could say i'm undecided, in the middle, lost in emotion perhaps. Emotion? Well, what the hell is this anyway? A meaningless word, with no real meaning whatsoever until someone came along and decided to pin a definition, breath life into it, give it meaning. Well, all mindless rambling aside, I think it's best for me to leave sub-topic behind and continue on with my little rant, my.. Vent, if you will.
It's quite funny actually, when I think of it, how I got in this position i'm in which, for lack of a better word, really stinks. I must have been near 11 when this nightmare stopped, but now I find it haunting me, lurking in the shadows as I sleep at night, watching me as I go about my daily life. It makes me think, makes me wonder.. Something I despise so much of, to the point in which I actually managed to slit my own wrist, multiple times actually but hey, what the hell do I know; for all I know, I could be making this senseless post on this online board for the sheer pleasure of watching others comment, trying to make myself feel better, when I know deep down that this shit hole i'v managed to dig myself into all these years, will not just simply disappear from reading a few nice comments from someone i'v never met before, someone whose never met me, before. Sure, I can read these replies and think that somehow, someway, they can somehow manage to... move me, say, to "awaken" a part of me, that would help me to see the light, do what I need to do, see what I need to see when in actuality, i know that nothing can help me see past this dark shadow, this cloud that has managed to surround me, to wrap me, constrict me, suck every ounce of happiness I could ever hope to feel out of me, and i'm left here in the dark thinking, thinking 'why the hell is it so quiet?'
I've really come to grow to hate the silence. Not just hate--to despise it, and for what reason? Perhaps the same reason that forces me to leave the television on at night so I can escape the dead of night, listening to some shitty newscast about all the murders and robberies happening around me, so that I may escape the silence as I attempt to pry my eyes closed and drift off into yet another nightmare, but it's these nightmares that provide me with a sense of freedom; to know that shitty life I live in this, this dreamland, is actually not as bad as the one that I live in the real one. So there I lye, waiting for the sleep, the nightmares, to take hold of me and lift me away from this hell, away from this silence, this silence that i'v grown to love to hate. This silence is impossible to escape, for every time I put my headphones in, in an attempt to banish the silence surrounding me, penetrating me, I know that it's not gone; it's simply.. resting... No, not resting, waiting; waiting for it's opportunity to take hold of me once again, to force me to 'be alone with my thoughts', as someone i'v grown to admire once said.
Why do I hate my thoughts? Could it be for the same reason I hate myself, or is it because these dreaded thoughts are me, and shall be hated as such? Well, whatever the reason, I know I can't be alone with them, for every time I am they grab hold of me, bring me under, make me feel helpless. No.. Not make me feel helpless, make me realize how helpless I actually am. I can't quite blame them though, can't quite blame anyone actually except for myself. I sometimes even blame myself for my dad leaving us; leaving me. Abandoning me, before he even had the chance to meet me.
My mother once told me that if my father would have stayed around to see me, see what i'v become, he would be proud of me; so I asked her why. Why? How could one become proud of a son, who isn't even proud of himself? Who loathes himself? I see no reason, so I thought my mom maybe could enlighten me, so I asked her why, "Why would anyone be proud of me?" It was her reply that made me cry that night. "I am", she said. Two words, reduce me to tears. And why? Theres no reason why I cried over this, because I got a taste of the attention I wish I had more of, I longed for. But why would anyone give mind to the me? The failure, the one who eats his feelings out, has no other output other than to watch the pain flow out of my wrist, down my arm...
No one will ever love me. Yes, I have convinced myself of this; and every day, surrounded by the silence I am forced to face in school, i find myself listing reasons why. "Your fat, unattractive, over emotional. Your dumb, lazy, weak, you have no real friends. No one really likes you, it's just an act."
I hear the things they say behind my back, snickering about, laughing and tormenting me. "Hes so fat, hes so ugly. Hes so annoying, I wish he would just go away", they'd say. I hear it. Not physically, not verbally, but in my mind I hear it. I see them laughing from across the room, see one occasionally give me a glance before turning their head to continue laughing. It makes me think why the hell am I here. Is my only purpose in this world to be a laughing stock, something for the people who mean something to get a kick out of? I think so, because I'm no good at anything else.
All I really want is a girl. Someone to love, hold, cherish; but that will never happen. That will never come to me, as I repel every girl who walks by me. I look at them, but not stare; never obviously, and I think 'if only they would just take the time to get to know me. They might see that i'm a kind, gentle person. I can care for them, protect them-- if only they would just take the time to get to know me'.
So thats the reason i'm in this hole, thats my little story for today. I'm sitting here, depressed on a friday night with nothing better to do but sit and listen to music, avoiding the silence for as long as I can before the nightmares come to free me from this place, and all I can think of is how I will be alone. I will be alone for the rest of my life, and theres nothing I can do about it. But people, please; don't mistake this as just another rant from a love sunk teen who can't seem to find a girlfriend; because it's much more than that. My mom told me long ago that I should see a therapist. I laughed and shrugged the idea off, still to this day I look down on it because I don't need to pay a man $200 to sit there, listen, and nod. Then again, maybe thats all I really need; is someone to listen, to hear me out. Someone to be there for me, to let me know that i'm not alone. But whatever, it doesn't matter now, because i'v already convinced myself that no one will even bother to glance at this anyway, but it's still good. I vented, and it felt good; but it's not enough. All I want truly, is to be happy. Thats it.
If only, if only.
Edit: I apologize for grammar errors, miss spelling, or miss used words. I wasn't really trying to be grammatically correct, I just wanted to get this off my chest.
It's quite funny actually, when I think of it, how I got in this position i'm in which, for lack of a better word, really stinks. I must have been near 11 when this nightmare stopped, but now I find it haunting me, lurking in the shadows as I sleep at night, watching me as I go about my daily life. It makes me think, makes me wonder.. Something I despise so much of, to the point in which I actually managed to slit my own wrist, multiple times actually but hey, what the hell do I know; for all I know, I could be making this senseless post on this online board for the sheer pleasure of watching others comment, trying to make myself feel better, when I know deep down that this shit hole i'v managed to dig myself into all these years, will not just simply disappear from reading a few nice comments from someone i'v never met before, someone whose never met me, before. Sure, I can read these replies and think that somehow, someway, they can somehow manage to... move me, say, to "awaken" a part of me, that would help me to see the light, do what I need to do, see what I need to see when in actuality, i know that nothing can help me see past this dark shadow, this cloud that has managed to surround me, to wrap me, constrict me, suck every ounce of happiness I could ever hope to feel out of me, and i'm left here in the dark thinking, thinking 'why the hell is it so quiet?'
I've really come to grow to hate the silence. Not just hate--to despise it, and for what reason? Perhaps the same reason that forces me to leave the television on at night so I can escape the dead of night, listening to some shitty newscast about all the murders and robberies happening around me, so that I may escape the silence as I attempt to pry my eyes closed and drift off into yet another nightmare, but it's these nightmares that provide me with a sense of freedom; to know that shitty life I live in this, this dreamland, is actually not as bad as the one that I live in the real one. So there I lye, waiting for the sleep, the nightmares, to take hold of me and lift me away from this hell, away from this silence, this silence that i'v grown to love to hate. This silence is impossible to escape, for every time I put my headphones in, in an attempt to banish the silence surrounding me, penetrating me, I know that it's not gone; it's simply.. resting... No, not resting, waiting; waiting for it's opportunity to take hold of me once again, to force me to 'be alone with my thoughts', as someone i'v grown to admire once said.
Why do I hate my thoughts? Could it be for the same reason I hate myself, or is it because these dreaded thoughts are me, and shall be hated as such? Well, whatever the reason, I know I can't be alone with them, for every time I am they grab hold of me, bring me under, make me feel helpless. No.. Not make me feel helpless, make me realize how helpless I actually am. I can't quite blame them though, can't quite blame anyone actually except for myself. I sometimes even blame myself for my dad leaving us; leaving me. Abandoning me, before he even had the chance to meet me.
My mother once told me that if my father would have stayed around to see me, see what i'v become, he would be proud of me; so I asked her why. Why? How could one become proud of a son, who isn't even proud of himself? Who loathes himself? I see no reason, so I thought my mom maybe could enlighten me, so I asked her why, "Why would anyone be proud of me?" It was her reply that made me cry that night. "I am", she said. Two words, reduce me to tears. And why? Theres no reason why I cried over this, because I got a taste of the attention I wish I had more of, I longed for. But why would anyone give mind to the me? The failure, the one who eats his feelings out, has no other output other than to watch the pain flow out of my wrist, down my arm...
No one will ever love me. Yes, I have convinced myself of this; and every day, surrounded by the silence I am forced to face in school, i find myself listing reasons why. "Your fat, unattractive, over emotional. Your dumb, lazy, weak, you have no real friends. No one really likes you, it's just an act."
I hear the things they say behind my back, snickering about, laughing and tormenting me. "Hes so fat, hes so ugly. Hes so annoying, I wish he would just go away", they'd say. I hear it. Not physically, not verbally, but in my mind I hear it. I see them laughing from across the room, see one occasionally give me a glance before turning their head to continue laughing. It makes me think why the hell am I here. Is my only purpose in this world to be a laughing stock, something for the people who mean something to get a kick out of? I think so, because I'm no good at anything else.
All I really want is a girl. Someone to love, hold, cherish; but that will never happen. That will never come to me, as I repel every girl who walks by me. I look at them, but not stare; never obviously, and I think 'if only they would just take the time to get to know me. They might see that i'm a kind, gentle person. I can care for them, protect them-- if only they would just take the time to get to know me'.
So thats the reason i'm in this hole, thats my little story for today. I'm sitting here, depressed on a friday night with nothing better to do but sit and listen to music, avoiding the silence for as long as I can before the nightmares come to free me from this place, and all I can think of is how I will be alone. I will be alone for the rest of my life, and theres nothing I can do about it. But people, please; don't mistake this as just another rant from a love sunk teen who can't seem to find a girlfriend; because it's much more than that. My mom told me long ago that I should see a therapist. I laughed and shrugged the idea off, still to this day I look down on it because I don't need to pay a man $200 to sit there, listen, and nod. Then again, maybe thats all I really need; is someone to listen, to hear me out. Someone to be there for me, to let me know that i'm not alone. But whatever, it doesn't matter now, because i'v already convinced myself that no one will even bother to glance at this anyway, but it's still good. I vented, and it felt good; but it's not enough. All I want truly, is to be happy. Thats it.
If only, if only.
Edit: I apologize for grammar errors, miss spelling, or miss used words. I wasn't really trying to be grammatically correct, I just wanted to get this off my chest.