the unfathomable misery of being

When I try to sleep, I hear spiders walking. They come armed with a poison that clouds my perception and blurs the distinctions between help and hate. They inject their venom into me and I wake with a vileness in my heart that cannot be quelled. 

Anger is a seething, burning presence that feels less like an emotion than it does a turbulent mass at my core around which my entire being is formed. It forces every thought into a manifesto detailing my revenge. Every moment is an exercise in self-control, another chance to lose it completely and find myself in prison or dead. Every dumbfuck comment someone innocently makes in a naïve attempt to sooth me only creates more anger. I must force myself to exist in the unforgiving world of denial of the truth that nearly every person in this world seems to live in.

There is an unspoken covenant among all humans that we don’t speak of the bad, but instead pretend that everything is fine because that’s what is easiest. No one seems to want to put the work into society that needs to be done to make the world a livable place. Instead, it seems that everyone turns a blind eye to everything but what is popular in the moment. No one seems to want to confront the true evils in the world. No one seems willing to put in the work and get their hands dirty for a better world, but for a few here and there. Most would rather ignore the problems until the next sensation happens and they can buy happiness again and ignore the desperate pleas of those tortured souls all around them. In this way, everyone is complicit in the horrific crimes of the monsters in our society, yet it feels like no one blames anyone but me.

Message received.

From my parents to everyone else, thank you for this crucial life lesson:

I’m not good enough.

How can one seek redemption in the same place that sought to consume him?

It seems I cannot and so I have abandoned hope that someone or some therapy will save me and instead, I suffer because I would rather suffer alone than be a part of something that allows these horrors to take place and only once they have been committed does anyone act, but acting too late is tantamount to permitting the crime.

Too little, too late only creates victims who all too often become monsters themselves. It is time to re-evaluate how we identify and eradicate these malignant human tumors from society because rehabilitation is, in practice, little more than delaying and then authorizing the inevitable destruction of yet another innocent soul.

-HomieCidal Brainiac