#2 Embracing my doom, punk rock style. What a way to go!
After writing the first blog post, I have realized I am better off translating my feelings and opinions to letters, words and sentences, and stashing them away at a remote place on the internet. Why? Better to experience them and throw them away. Because I have finally realized they never mattered in the first place. Not in this world anyway. I was a fool to even think otherwise. I am regularly reminded I am nothing but a blur in people's lives, that's forgotten because it should never have existed in the first place. Anything that comes between people's wants will become a blur. I am treated in such a manner too, like how homeless people are treated. My pure intentions, my honest words spoken without any spite, will never be anything of value. My actions will never matter, and my wishes will never sound fair to anyone. I don't want to invest myself in people's lives anymore, because I will never be anything more than a temporary replacement to them. Everyone is in it for something. Someone is in it for money, others are in it for attention. Fame. Power. Satisfaction. Likes, followers and views. Haven't found anyone who wants to live a life for what it is, for what it can be to others. I am yet to find people who are like me, who are like family, who are like home. I'm afraid I'll never find it. I'm afraid I'll stop trying. I'm afraid I may have already stopped.
Solitary life, loneliness remains as the only road. There's a quiet relief in it, I can do anything I want and no one will ever bother me to get something out of me, as if I owe them anything. I was a young fool to think people my age would become good friends if I showed them the kindness and warmth anyone would reserve for anyone they consider their own, their family. I wasn't in it for anything, never have I demanded anyone's time for selfish reasons. When I was younger, I used to talk a lot, to anyone and everyone, but now I have days go by when I never utter a single word. Really. I don't know why I don't have the friendships and companionships everybody else seems to have, and if I even deserve what they have.
Maybe this can be diagnosed as crippling depression. If it is, then it's not going too bad as the only thing that's keeping me company is the music, that acts as a painkiller for the emotional wounds I suffer from the screams muffled inside me, wounds that get healed every Friday. That's when new songs are released. I get whole weekends to make sure I take enough medications. A whole regimen of songs that have the magic to not leave any scars for anyone to notice, in case anyone bothers to have look at me. People want everything perfect, you know? They prefer it that way. They want the best toys to play with. Though I will never appear in their versions of Toy Story, Pixar can never have me.
I am not speaking as if I have the high authority to do so. I am invisible to everyone, I am a nobody walking on pavements, worrying if I ever will be able to own up to expectations, have the small wins, get those short moments of joy that fuel the fire that's keeping me alive. What power do my words carry if I am never noticed? If I perish tomorrow, no one will spend a minute to realize what happened. And everyone I have ever met in my life will never bother to know what happened to me. My existence can be interpreted as a mistake by anyone, free speech you know?
Funny story, someone tried exactly that, when I was in high school. Disrespected my parents on top of it. Big mistake I say. But you know what I did? Nothing. Silence. Why? Because my parents told me to do exactly that. Because they knew if I ever decided to teach a lesson the school teachers never did, I'll get in trouble instead. They told me if a dog ever starts barking at an elephant, the elephant can squash it in a second. But the elephant doesn't always do that. Because it's not worth it. I followed that advice. That son of a bitch got lucky that day. I knew who his parents were, so "son of a bitch" is a proper description. The high school me, a kid, was capable enough to go all batman on anyone. Anyone.
Another reminder for me to throw these feelings away. Because the final destination is a ruin anyway. So, if you are reading this, make whatever you may of me, like that SOAB. Whatever. I'm only writing this because I wish to remove the feelings that are handicapping me. The future doesn't hold any promise, so may as well do my future self a favor and lock these feelings away, which can otherwise shackle him. He owes me one.
Embracing my doom, punk rock style. What a way to go!
p.s. Would have preferred love songs, but who would love someone like me? Eyes only fall on the beautiful and the wealthy. Don't need that kind of love.