living is inherently humiliating
07/16/24 6:19am
its not up to chance, this is who you were meant to be
Nothing is left to comfort you, it's more unfair than ever to even exist. They don't say anything, but they're thinking it.
You know they are, beyond their seemingly empty gestures and the frantic stares that occupy their faces. It's natural, it's subconcious.
Risk living as a fucking hermit just to please them, or better yet, inflate your already fragile self-assurance until it's bursting at the seams,
just to feel included or worthy of anything in your miserable life. You can't think without feeling guilty, "how can I look as interesting and unique as possible??".
Among a sea of lookalikes, feint compassion for peace of mind so it doesn't wander too wildly while tossing and turning in bed at night, left wondering why you continue to struggle with childish
worries and coping mechanisms to match.
Shredded skin screams, "I WANT ATTENTION PLEASE," and nothing more. Nuance is no longer, it's too complicated to explain, leave it to the strangers and
perpetuators of meaningless drivel, outrage and discussion to decide your future. It extends into the (less-real-than-ever) "real life" as well.
Why would you say that? Why do you hate me? Please, please, just help me here. Hear, me. Being out late at night is more peaceful than anything else left for us to enjoy.
Just listen to the wind before it's too late for you to hear it anymore, enjoy it while it lasts, it will be ruined for you.
Check-engine lights and worrying about smells, simple shit to keep your mind occupied while you enjoy a stripped-away, sorry version of what normality is supposed to be;
feel like. Don't worry too much, don't pay attention to them, they're just like you, they don't matter in the slightest.
Do you see the contradiction? I've never understood it to begin with. You want people to recognize you; to care? How can you be so sure?
To let people see you, truly see you, is to give up quickly and completely. You won't even try to hurt, will you? Why won't you act fucking injured, pathetic and sad, worthless, and above all else, needing something or someone.
Don't you want it? It's the best you'll ever experience. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. Just let me see you please. I promise. I mean it. Please. Now.
Don't you fucking dare act better than me or any of them. It's so hard, you couldn't possibly understand. You aren't hurting like me.
You aren't hurting as much as me.
You aren't hurting as much as me.
You can only measure hurt when somebody is long gone. Why would the pain be worth anything if it doesn't affect anybody else? The precision of a blade. The accuracy of words written onto a page.
Why, if not to show others even a fraction of what you might feel. Something that cannot be put into words, it begs to be corrupted, brutalized. All at the mercy of others, caused by their own doing.
Borderline Personality Disorder self-help page on Quora. "How can I deal with the sudden and tragic loss of my daughter? M58 here, my retard offspring managed to finally do it this time, and I was wondering if
spambots on a disgustingly shallow website could help me with this very personal death. She was only 18, had what seemed to be her whole life ahead of her." A waste of bandwith is all she would ever amount to.
Trying too fucking hard to look into her world, to understand somebody who does not want to be understood.
Why would you bother? Pleasing the arbiter of nothing but your own mind, trying to feel like you did the right thing despite everything.
It always falls back on silent assessments. The "general population," nothing but a concept dreamed up by men in a shareholder meeting. NPCs. "Basic".
"Emo goth y2k". Vanity masquerading as personality. Thinking you are just so much better than that. You have to let them know. Let me stoop down to your level,
betray my own logic, just to feel any sort of emotion. Distract yourself from anything but the goal that you were taught to chase. You're so fucking honest. So fucking real, it feels like
I've known you my whole life. Nudity, the very essence of you, stuffed into a PDF file for someone a million miles away.