Contempt

With each and every year I become more and more reclusive.

My dissatisfaction with people and the outside world grows stronger.

I always hated people, since an early age I’ve always had this contempt towards humans, something in me always protested against them. With time, as I came across multiple negative experiences with people in friendships and relationships, I realized even more that I was right, humans are just not right for me.

All my life I felt disconnected from people, I felt like I was a different breed. My interests, my views and everything else made me out of place with the others. Misunderstood constantly, looked down on, etc.

Over years I grew more and more disappointed with my fellow humans. So called friends stole from me, made fun of me behind my back, used me and all of that was just when I was a kid. Then school came around where I was constantly mocked, etc.

Later I was betrayed as a grown up, cheated on, used, abused. And now, I am this. I recluse. I trust absolutely no one. I cut my circle of the people I talk to to 2-3 people. And even with those, I communicate very rarely.

After everything, I can honestly say that I have absolutely no empathy towards people, I dislike them and want nothing to do with them and I’m quite comfortable with that.

Yes, I know there are good people out there, but only select few. To me, the majority of people are bad, selfish, greedy, liars, etc. I learned that the hard way.

I know human nature, and human nature is inherently evil.

If it was up to me, I would ditch everything and go live at a cottage house in the middle of nowhere, grow my own food and all that good stuff. Buuut, since my life is what it is, all of my jobs that I had and the one I am starting now requires communicating with people. But since this job will be mostly just giving out keys to people who go to the gym and swiping their cards, I think I’ll manage to keep the communication as minimal as possible.

Yes, yes, there is enough evil in the world and enough bad people, we need more empathy and kindness, well, you’re not getting it from me.

Bored

So bored and out of it,
Staring at the stale, dry cracks in the wall,
A cockroach leans in for a kiss with the dirty dish.
It’s been a while…
Look at the nightfall,
I’ve been waiting to put this cigarette to my lips,
Inhale…
Make a wish.
Smoke caressing the lungs like a gun gently brushing against the temple,
It smells like death, if the smokes are going to kill me, let them.
It’s been too long,
Already twenty-five out of seventy,
and the thought of leaving this hell seems heavenly.
I have nothing to offer,
just my worn out shell.
Like a bride rejected and left at the altar.
If I go unnoticed, I won’t have to tell.
But for now, let the bones decay,
I’ll be here in the clouds of smoke,
Waiting so patiently,
when twenty-five becomes seventy,
and my life is erased from the first, to the last day.

Camatose

Yet again,
these pits of hell,
grip me tightly ’round my neck,
it’s a love song, it’s a spell,
feel this pain spread in my chest.
I slip into my comatose,
heavy, medicated sleep,
a thousand needles, head to toe,
as the night grows dark and deep.
There’s no escape and no salvation
from this illness I possess,
It’s a cage and I’m a beast,
held in captive and possessed.

Nothing

Sitting here in tears while my mom is asleep in the other room. Just crying because I don’t know where to go from here anymore.

Seems like my life is on the rocks. I have no job and barely any money. I’m back to square one, looking for a low paying job with a bachelors degree. This is my life, it is nothing. I am nothing. I’m almost 25 and achieved absolutely fucking zero.  All has almost fallen apart.

After all, I don’t think I’d wish this kind of life of mental torture on anyone I hate. A life that is complete zero. A waste. That is going nowhere.

All I feel is shame that I just couldn’t fulfill my dreams and achieve anything.

I hate how unfair everything is. Someone gets 5 million a month and someone like me is sitting on an old bench in some shithole without a penny and can’t get a job with higher education. How fair is the world?

 

Deaths sweet, soothing lullaby

While it’s quiet,
and spirits dance around me while I cry,
I hear so often in the night,
Death’s sweet, soothing lullaby.

It sings about the knot,
and the rope you use to tie it,
it sings about the freedom,
it knows that you are tired.

It sings about the buildings,
ones that stand up tall,
about the flight that comes with them,
about the moment when it ends it all.

I hear it’s silky undertone,
It’s begging me to try,
I’m in no two minds,
this was the last time I heard,
death’s sweet, soothing lullaby.

Gloomy Summer

Summer was never this gloomy
Shadows follow me around,
I’m on the path to find peace,
But I’m pushed off of that ground.

I was supposed to drown in lavish nature,
In murky waters of lakes and ponds,
Bask in the yellow, all-seeing eye,
But instead, to my haven, I abscond.

Closer to my shrines of Buddha, Jesus, Shiva,
To my false sense of belonging,
Gods I’ve never believed in.
I’m leaving…

This summer and all summers before,
Behind,
As well as all of mankind,
And this life that’s a chore,
I’m alive to the core,
But bloodless inside.

Lonely Trip

A clutch, a clench, a grip,
to a zip.
A scarce apprehension of what it was made of,
I knew it was about to be a lonely trip.

A train ride full of frowns of other guests,
they are on it for the same trip,
they clutch, they clench, they grip,
to a zip.

Eyes empty and a stiff upper lip,
keep all to yourself, don’t let a sound slip,
soon we will all be there, all going the same way,
see the children and the others look down as they pray.

It’s only getting faster, it’s picking up speed,
The murmurs getting louder as they look up to God,
We’re all in it too deep.
A crash and it’s over, no one made it alive,
Indeed,
we were all in it, but it was a short, lonely ride.

I Did Not Ask For This

I want to talk about something. A question that bothers me every single day. I want to shove all the disorders and depressions aside and just talk about it, what I really think about life.

Since an early age I am bothered with a question about why… Why exactly am I here if I do not want it? Why wasn’t I asked before coming here if I wanted this life or not? Nobody ever asks you this question. So to me, I feel like I was shoved onto this place and expected to enjoy the hell out of it and be grateful for every single little leaf on the trees. When in reality, ever since I was a kid, I never saw a reason for this. In fact, I feel very upset because it feels like I am forced to do this. Why should you play a game if you don’t like the rules and you don’t like the game?

This is such an unbelievably taboo topic to even open your mouth about. Everyone just expects you to be happy and grateful for life, no matter how you feel, you do not have the right to disagree with the idea of life itself. Otherwise, you are ungrateful, you are dispicable and how dare you? You have been given this amazing opportunity to just…well…exist. And if things are bad, look at Billy, he has it worse, that should make you feel better.

I never really talk about this because if you tell this to an average Joe, he will be properly shocked. Because apparently, life is so beautiful and so precious, how dare you say something like this and maybe, they will even bring God into the equation. So better to keep it shut.

So I keep it shut and just try and trick myself into enjoying things every single day, every single day is a lie and I damn sure know it.

Imagine what a horrible way of life it is. I don’t have any goals, any aspirations, I never had them, I always just existed so everyone else can just shut the fuck up.

I went through hell and back and still stuck around because I’m unfortunately human enough to think about others, because I owe them. Yeah, that’s right, nobody asked you to be here, yet you owe everyone everything, you owe your parents, you owe them just because they made you.

Enough for now, just wanted to put this out into the universe.

 

 

Hollow

Every morning is greeted with hollow dents

in the walls of my room and my marrow.

The emptiness with which the day is attended is inexcusable,

yet let it be better tomorrow.

It will arrive just like the days that came before

and the furniture will still stand unmoved,

the pillow next to me will still remain an excess

and I will still be trapped in solitude.

Immobile, at moments the spirit dances away into space

and I watch it go,

It joins all the other souls lost and they combine in a promenade.

They do it with grace…

And I remain paralyzed in the moment with anxiety,

And the silence vindicates and spreads through the sphere,

Entirely.