I am a tortured soul, not because anybody tortured me but because of how I torture myself in believing and having hope. People aren't built like me for a reason. Black people aren't built like me for a reason. To look in the face of all of these facts and pretend the only thing that matters is what I do? Even on my best day, I know that circumstance trumps all.
I win a lot. More than my fair share, some would say. I also lose more than I win. I lose so much that the bitter taste has become enjoyable and sustaining. I am not for the weak at heart. My thoughts are more potent than the strongest of coffees. My emotions are more intoxicating than the truest of wines. I am that pure and uncut. The unfortunate truth behind that is few people can take a dose of me and not OD. To cut my purity, I get high on others. I try to keep myself distracted.
People fail to grasp how I work. The techniques I use and, oddly enough, mind numbingly dull conversation is thrilling to them. It almost doesn't matter who I am talking with. People pretend too much for my liking. There is a ton of shit I do not know. I don't pretend I know more than I do. I have been dealing with small minded folk who relish pointing out the facts that they feel, elevate them above you. Cool, you excluded somebody. Great job.
I am so sick of working harder to be a decent human being every day. Why try when there is nothing but trolls around me? Isolated and becoming more distant every day. Seeing the battle of good versus evil and not being involved is tearing me apart. I did try to push people toward an understanding but now, I just watch the stupid shit roll by. My heart is emptying and I don't feel sad about it. I don't feel anything at all.
All of my excitement and positivity that came from how people remembered the old me. All of the positive words and encouragement I received, feels pointless. I'm sickened by my lot in life. Not because I feel I failed. I feel sick because I see how horribly the world has failed. How resilient the masses are in doing a minimal to change things. How silly the entire idea of using thought to make things matter.
See, in the core of how I am, who I am, is the basis of how I interact with others. If I need to change that core, I may never truly care about others again. Who cares, right? What's it matter to any of you? I wouldn't say it does. It could. And that should be the scary thought. A good guy gone evil is one of the scariest things walking the earth.
Now, people may read this and start using half-assed assumptive logic to conclude that I'm just having a hard time or I'm not getting my way or I'm griping about low paying employment. Well, it's nothing of the sort. These are the thoughts of after taste...after I have a conversation with a person. These are the thoughts of shock and awe at the callous disregard I see others exhibit in traffic. Most of all these are the thoughts that respond to excuses, justifications and hypocrisy.
I'm not enraged but I am discontent. I'm not outwardly, nor inwardly destructive. I cannot change this horrible world. I do not have the spark necessary to convert a city nor a nation of zombies. It just is what it is and I need to better learn to disguise how I really feel because nobody can take it. I'll let the coward come out to play. That seems like who everybody wants anyway. The coward.
It's never just one thing, not just one straw but the straw the breaks the camels back; the ounce that sinks the ship; the difference between not making it another second and lasting for the foreseeable future. And I cannot help but feel as if I hit that point while trying to find something; anything that could work for me. I have failed yet again. One more loss. Another loss. What more can I say?
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