I have been in a foul mood for some time now. I think it is because I am slowly starting to realise who I am and it sucks balls. Large hairy monkey balls.
I am a fat, lonely guy in a wife beater and boxer shorts, eating a frozen dinner and watching tv alone.
This is not something that I would have ever wanted for myself. I am in a dead end job, where creativity and intellect go to die.
I am horrible at decision making. All of my decisions led me to this point and it blows.
I know this is not happy, nor is it particularly creative. It just is.
I remember thinking to myself that I wanted to die when I was 19. I had a very bad year, full of pain and despair. I lost everyone and everything. I remember thinking to myself that I did not belong in this life, and the only reason I stuck it out was to fulfil someone else's wishes; someone else's dreams.
I drank, snorted, smoked my way to near death, but at the last minute something stopped me. I am not sure what it was any more, and I certainly don't give a rat's ass any more.
I went through the next ten years living someone else's dreams of what I shoud, would or could be. None of it mattered to me. I think that is why I ruined it all.
I think that is why I decided to marry someone I wasn't really in to. It is kind of sad that she was the only one ho ever really decided to be with me for any length of time, despite the fact I was only in it for the comfort of it.
I thought I was making a real change two years ago. I went to school and worked my ass off....ok that isn't true. One of the curses of not having to try at anything and still succeed is that you never really gain an appreciation for working at it, and for the thing itself. The curse of an electric mind is that it means you never ever have to do anything, shit just hapens and you roll with it.
The ability to interpret, extrapolate and then bullshit is not good. I never have to actually learn anything or try hard. The results are always the same. Information comes in, and it just sticks there, as long as the power is on.
Despite this gift, I find myself in such a horrible place. The other day a person said to me that it must be nice to be so smart. What makes you think thatÉ Being smart has not led to any benefit. In fact, I am in a worse place than they are. I have the same dead end job, but I am aone and eating microwave dinners.
My brain has not managed to land me anything awesome or worthwhile. This person has a fiance, is making more money than me and has fun things they like to do. I go to work, I come home, I microwave a burrito, I watch the daily show, I go to bed, and then I do it all over again.
I stand on the outside looking in and like what I see, but haven`t the foggiest idea how to achieve it. Maybe it is because I am lazy, maybe it is because I never like to do anything for the sake of doing it, and thus without tangible results, or the promise of tangible results, I just sit and do nothing.
I never wanted this life. I never really wanted any life. I wanted to be dead by now. I wished it so hard it almost came true, but those doctors were full of shit.
I know this is the lament of the lonely, and in so lamenting, I further cement my loneliness, but you see, there is nothing left for me to do but lament.
Reaching for the stars, going for broke, or trying that crazy Italian restaurant was never my thing. In a life where torment and despair was always the end resut of everything »I tried, of every risk taken, you learn to not touch the fucking stove, you dumb ass. How many time do you have to be burned before you stop touching the goddammed thing?
In a certain way I greive for the boy who lost it all, but to me, what good is it? How long can a person ive life in the way of an observer? How many times can I watch some other douche get the girl, some suit wearing tool bag get the job, some mediocre wit surpass my accomplishments before I just say, fuck it?
That was and is my greatest fear. How long before I settle again? How long before I just say, oh well and be satisfied with my dead end job that allows me to come home, watch a little daily show, eat a Jamaican patty and play a little madden?
How long before I give up?
How long after that before I realise life can't work that way for me?
How long before I wake up and realise I wasn't meant to be this way; wasn't meant to live past 20, or 25, or 30.
How long before I stop marking time?
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