Things just keep getting worse. There is no refuge for me to recover from the betrayals of the past, just more judgment, mockery and ridicule. My experiences continue to leave me bitter, and that attitude creates hostile environments where there are none. Conversely, when I control my demons and dont lash out at those around me, I invariably become a whipping boy instead. People respond to hate with more hate, but they also respond to respect, humility, and meekness with hate. People are stupid and worthless, and more concerned with abstract generalizations that harm no one than with how they actually treat one another. Hypocrites who will defend to the point of violence the need to treat women as a whole with respect, while they continue to lie to, cheat on, and think very little of every woman theyre actually with. I still have no one to talk to. Nothing but the familial sycophantism of imbeciles which quickly turns to derision once I leave the room. There is no one to reach out to who even begins to understand me and now I am denied the comfort of even venting my emotions in this stupid forum. I am going mad alone but I will not die alone. I fantasized about stabbing my brother in the stomach this morning. Wondering how quickly I could plunge the knife into his fat gut, and believing I could do enough damage to kill him before he even felt the pain of the first thrust. It is not uncommon to need someone to talk to who wont just use the conversation as ammunition later. It is uncommon however to find a person decent enough to be there for you, to hear what you have to say, to let you work through your anguish simply by listening. This simple task, which should be the purview of friends and family, is instead relegated to professional strangers paid large hourly sums because in the end, if you want someone to even pretend to care about you, you have to pay them. I am never going to get better. I need to be alone or surrounded by some system of love and support rather than deception and contempt, but there is no such place, and in its absence any part of me still capable of love and happiness is slowly dissolving in the bile of the sickening excuse for humanity which surrounds me at all times. It doesnt matter. In the end none of us make it out alive anyway.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 16:59:07 +0000
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