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.

i take the thought of you and burn it to the ground

got 100% on one of my tests today, the one in world religion. it was about buddhism and sikhism. i was shocked to see my score when it was handed back to me. the one i graded had minus 16. i totally made hardly-educated guesses on a couple of answers. plus there’s a curve, so i got 4 extra points because apparently everyone sucks but me. then after class, i threw up in the bathroom. i guess my stomach decided it wasn’t as overjoyed as me. lol, karma.

i went home not long after that. now i’m beating myself up over leaving, as i totally could have stayed.

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i’m going to call on friday and try to get in to see the doctor early.

trying to tend to the dead parts of my mind. where nothing good grows. sometimes the truth is so ugly that there is no way to live with it intact and be happy. so we have to twist the truth, distort it, look at it thru rose tinted glasses. pretend we learned deep lessons from it about how life is. that we are stronger, better for it. but it isn’t always the case.

it’s just easier to tell a lie than face the truth in its unadulterated form sometimes. i’ve said it before: i obsess over my perception of the truth and the perception of others. it’s crazy how it never quite matches up, even among people with similar characteristics and values. it’s like we all have the same inkblot of a life, but we all arrive at a different idea of what it all means.

i feel bad about the bridges i’ve burned with the sheer force of my ugly personality. friends who got sick of my pessimist outlook. some people would say, oh, if they were really friends they would have stuck around. but i’m not stupid. i know love like that ain’t unconditional, nor should it be. i know sometimes it’s small things, but they add up, and it’s like the voice that took down the mountain of snow. and i’m left smothered in the cold, all by myself. lol.

all i know is, deep down i’m a contrarian who likes to cause trouble for myself. my first-grade report card literally said ‘sarah does not work well by herself or with others’. mrs. johnson really didn’t like me. i almost tell that story with pride now. like, yeah, i’m a real baddie. anybody with eyes can see that i don’t care.

 

 

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.