born to be down

the world is like a parody that went too far with the material and lost itself in absurdity. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry so i do nothing but wring my hands and wonder where the fuck we went wrong. i wanna leave but there is no distance far enough to escape the insanity, the inanity, the injustice.

times like these remind me why i’m all anti-theology. what sick, twisted mind would come up with a world like this? maybe me, but in an ironic way. but as much as i joke about being a glorious god-queen, i don’t reckon i would be egotistical or sadistic enough to make such a cold world that, as full as it is, often feels so devoid of meaning or i don’t know; resolution or something. like, where is the clarity? we’re all among the filth and muck and we will never be clean, we’ll just be dead. sometimes the best part of a story is the end, and the world contains many of these stories.

as much as some people aspire towards something bright and white-washed pure, they are such brutal, repugnant monsters that deserve nothing but their own miserable company. do they not see what a joke it is that they pretend moral righteousness while they lie, cheat, steal, rape, murder, covet, et cetera?

i look across at the multitudes and i see nothing good among them sometimes, just lesser evils. i don’t want to be the unforgiving type, but why forgive someone when they are not asking for anything like forgiveness? they are past feelings of conscience. and i’m not here to play jiminy cricket to their lying-ass peter pan bullshit. i get sick of having to be patient and kind and understanding while on the inside i seethe and boil over. or better yet, rant online.

sorry this was so dark. i swear i’m not even down or anything. i’m past feeling anything but a slow disdainful shake of the head made into a feeling.

and if love is a drug, i don’t want it, because i don’t have any self control

it’s midnight and i’m in the basement because it’s thundering a tiny bit and lucy is afraid.

i had the usual dream that has become rather unusual as my mind tries to buck away from its habitual obsessions to focus on new ones. the old ones, the old dreams are rare now, and made more precious because of it. also more poisonous.

i’m walking through a party, because i know you’re there. but you’ve left. i look everywhere, and you’re gone. you just left the room. you just turned the corner. it’s like a maze of other people smiling and laughing, and me, alone, looking for you. this time i don’t wind up outside in the snow and stars, the dream doesn’t reach this sad crescendo. it just ends with me realizing you’re not there, not anywhere near me.

the dream is a bit on the nose, lol. real life occasionally mirrors it. i find myself at get-togethers, too afraid to be obvious, to ask if you’re there. so i just wander, looking for you..and of course you’re never there. you’re somewhere else, living a different life. i guess i have to accept that.

the last time i saw you i was a different person with a different agenda, a different heart, a different mind. i didn’t know much about anything outside myself. i don’t even know who you are anymore, and i don’t know who, or how, to ask. i don’t even know why i held on to you in my mind, why i ever found comfort in thoughts of star-crossed love, brought to fruition. that path is gone. it’s dead, with all the others. i guess my mind just hasn’t caught up to reality, which is definitely a theme brought up in my life over and over.

sometimes i feel as though i don’t belong in reality anyway. i’ve spent some time apart and i don’t think it lives up to the hype. oh well. as everyone in my life keeps saying, it is what it is. and there is something so final and concrete about that, that i wanna fight it, because honestly that’s my place, i think, fighting things, ideas, concepts, truths. i sometimes just want to ignore the truth so i don’t have to fight it or accept it fully, but that never works for long. something always reminds me of you and i’m back on the stupid, gaudy, rococo train of thought that i’m pretty sure is love, and though everyone’s always spouting on about it, it is the saddest, most futile thing i’ve ever witnessed myself engaging in. so, as some wise, eloquent, probably long dead person said, that sucks.

and unfortunately i’ve found myself agreeing with the naysayers.

i’m here, and you’re merely a gesture in some vague direction to me. that’s how far apart we are, in body and mind. so yeah, sarah, give up, give in. this idea you hold is dead and you’re just sadly, obstinately oblivious to it half the time. and the other half you’re in mourning for it. just let go.

it is what it is.

hey, open wide, here comes original sin

cut the emotion out like necrotic flesh.

feel the fatigue hovering in the peripheral, yawn forming.

i’m terrified of dying really, yet i fear my fear of life outweighs my fear of death sometimes. short as it may be, life has a way of dragging on yet death in my eyes is a single event.

yesterday we talked about social institutions, like religion,¬†government bodies and such. i didn’t know people trust atheists so little tho. like, am i really untrustworthy as a leader?? yeah, probs. I HAVE NO MORAL COMPASS. lol. i think it is because people are stupid. me included. that’s why we cannot trust. we’re all wrapped up in our own stupidity.

seriously tho, my moral compass is freaking weird. i remember being a child and saving little bugs from my grandma’s pool, getting stung by a wasp and just letting it go, et cetera. life was a precious thing to me, i learned that early on. even the smallest life form, had a meaning to me.

i was a dreamy, stupid child, terrified of the big bad world early on. i felt the need to protect the underdogs of the world. i think it’s because the smallness and fragility of life echoed my own feelings about my own little life.

i still have that sort of complex, but it has died down because it is too painful at times. the more i learn, the more i learn that the world is too vast to know completely. people say the world is getting smaller, but to me it is just epically huge, and i cannot fathom its depths at times. like all times.

by the time the first bombs fell we were already bored

true story: i burned my lip on a burrito and it scabbed over and i picked at it like a compulsive idiot, and it bled, and now i look stupid. plus i keep touching it to see if it still hurts, and it totally does. that’s my life summed up in one story.

i’m having a hard time focusing on one thought or emotion right now. too many.

my mood keeps going up and down. i always picture it like a barn swallow. darting up,  barreling down.

oh and in new news, i’m sad again. or maybe just bored. yeah we’re going with bored.

on the bright side, i’m really good at glossing over unpleantness. like i can pretend like no other that i’m not mad at someone or deeply disappointed in their fundamental human nature. i do it practically every day, with mostly everyone. yeah. good trait.

looking back through history, i would make a really shit 1920’s flapper.. seems really try-hard and tiring. soo much pressure to be fun and novel. i feel like i would have to be really social and outgoing. or edgy, and i’m not really outwardly dynamic like that. i’m more repressfully, yours.

i’m not a character, a caricature. i’m complex, and deep. like wine. i swear tho, wine tastes exactly as i imagine finger nail polish remover does. in fact, i pretend it is when i drink it.

again, with history. i would make a spectacular plague victim, i think. i would die so well. i wonder, is it better to die fighting and feisty, or quietly, dignified, stoic? i just don’t know what is cool anymore. uncertain times..

i really am bored. and twitchy. i almost feel like going outside. pfft.