I'm going to take a stab at this blogging thing once more. If people read it, cool, that's great. If nobody reads it, that's fine too. I just need a place to jot down thoughts, maybe remember them for later. Now that I'm in a cushy desk job that gives me quite a bit of free time, I suppose I could use some of this time to sharpen back up on my writing. I earnestly feel like I don't do enough of it.
To begin, I guess I'll write about some of my experiences working in a retail store.
I worked as a computer repair technician at a office supplies store. I got a lot of funny customers there, a lot of ornery customers there, and most of all, stupid customers. I'm sure that happens to everyone and will continue to happen for the rest of time. Stupid people are an unfortunate variable in this crazy system of life. While I can guarantee that a lot of things have happened, I did not take the time to write it down so I will proceed to jot down the things I can remember.
One of the things that will always stand out in my mind was a man who came in complaining about their virus problems. A good portion of the times when someone comes in because they have a 'virus', it's usually never the case. It's usually because they don't know how to use the computer and they messed something up, but I'll get to that later or possibly even a later post.
So this particular man, there is a reason why I will never forget this.
I open up his computer, and I can already tell from the billions of immediate, "j00 HAZ VIRUS! PAY 9999999.99 TO BUY THE SUPER SPECIAL AWESOME AMAZING ANTIVIRUS. tOTALLY TRU BRUH! Y WOULD I LIE TO U?!" just from the boot. His computer is slowed to a crawl and after clicking to a few too many things, it gave me a BSoD. Booting it back up into safe mode was the only thing that would allow it to run. While I assured him that there was most definitely something wrong with the computer, he was very persistent on wanting a virus scan run on his computer. I obliged and low and behold, all kinds of malware. Taking a look at the computers condition (very poor), the computers age (very old), and how much it was going to be to clean up the computer (very expensive) I talked him into buying a new computer. He had only two problems, one being the price and was going to have to get money from his dad. The second was his information on the computer. While the first factor was a toss up on whether or not his dad was going to do the service, I assured him it was to transfer the information. This man seemed very cautious and hesitant, but I understood, most people are. After all, it is their precious information, I'd hate it if I lost all my music and had to re-rip everything. After some coaxing, he decided he would go for it, granted he got the funds.
The next day, him and his father come in and they say they want the service taking exception to the data transfer. This prompted the man to whine to his father.
"But daaaaad. I have my resume on there and I have no copies of it!", pleading quite loudly.
His dad gave his son the darkest, dirtiest look I've seen at my job, looked back at me and asked, "Can you just find that dumb resume or do you have to do everything?"
"We have to do everything sir. It's just a straight shot."
The father sighed heavily, "Fine. Whatever. Do it."
"Yessss! Thanks dad!", the man, MAN, thanked his father which was again, met with a dark, sour look. Quite unusual, but I figured that was due to the cost (an extra 40 dollars for data transfer)
Then when it came time to work on the computer, everything made sense.
Upon scanning, there was 200 GB of stuff on the computer. A bit heavier than most, but no problem. When the transfer started, it started with his 'Adult' folder. Then that was divided even further down into a folder listed only as, "A". Then, it got down even farther and started listing porn actresses, alphabetized by their last names. Everything started to make sense. Walking away and letting the file transfer do its thing, we would periodically check on things and the porn just did not quit. There was more and more and more. It eventually moved down into the "B" folder after about an hour and a half, and it was just baffling how much porn this man had. At his point, it seemed more like a lifestyle more than anything.
After everything was done, out of sheer curiosity, I checked to see how large that 'Adult' folder was. It was 160 GB in size. To put things in perspective, if you were to download all that information in one shot, it would take about a day and a half on most internet connection lines. An hour of video is about half a gig. It was mind boggling.
In another token, another man came in three times in one month talking about viruses with very similar symptoms as the man above. The first time he came in, he was happy with us. Two weeks later, he seemed a bit distressed, but he assumed it must've been bad luck. The third he came in about a week later, he was quite upset and pointed the finger at us, saying we didn't do our jobs correctly and demanded to know what was causing the virus. When we took a closer look, and did it the third time on the house because we 'had to have missed something', we saw some pretty disgusting porn. A lot of it was zoophilia. Then came the dilemma.
How do you tell a stranger that their zoophilia habits was the cause for the viruses their computer was getting? In the end, we opted not to tell him. Instead, we just showed him his browser and did a general, "Hey, so you see this site right here? Yeah, that's a dangerous site."
"....I have no idea how that got there. I don't have anyone else living with me but I didn't do it. It must've been hackers!", the man's face was a deep, bright red.
The only thing I could think was, 'yeah, sure, hackers somehow jumped onto your computer and decided to just search animal porn until you had a virus'. Unfortunately I had to have a job at that point so the only thing I said was, "who knows. Let's just hope it doesn't happen again."
"...it really wasn't me."
"I believe you", no I didn't, "really, I do", really, I didn't. I think in the end he knew that I knew cause he slipped me a tip and I never saw him again.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
What Went Wrong
Well, it looks like I did it again. I'm just a person who doesn't deserve any kind of love. I'm incapable of making someone happy. It was a mistake, I've done nothing but hurt someone I love. I've hurt her at almost every turn and even now I still have a hard time realizing when I'm doing wrong. I can't speak when it matters, I can't communicate and I've done nothing but make her feel worse. My fears have come true and I'm sure I could've prevented it. She's always told me when she feels terrible and yet I apparently just am too senseless to make any changes. I knew she'd be the one to break up with me, and I knew it'd be in about three months. That's always the case; that's how long it takes for girls to realize that I'm nothing what they want.
I'm too immature to do much of anything except for sit here and wallow in my self pity. I know I'm here in it, but I can't think of anything else to do. At least when I did it any other times, I was able to let myself believe that it was someone else that was making me do this, but now I know that it's just me. I'm just too pathetic and it hurts even worse now that I realize what I've done.
She said she's done trying. I always know what that means. I've tried, but I guess I just don't have it in me to try hard enough. She's happy with me most days, but I know that she's miserable with me otherwise. I'm just not enough for her, I'm not good enough for her. I know it hurts, it hurts right now, but I know I'm still numbing some of it. I can only imagine what it's going to be like when that numbness goes away and it all rushes in and hits me. I should've spent more time with her instead of trying to buy her affections.
Oh well, I knew it was just a matter of time anyway. I'm a vapid, one-dimensional individual.I just wish I didn't fuck up so bad. Scratch that, I just wish I wasn't such a fuck up. Even trying to be apologetic, I do nothing but make her feel bad.
I guess I should stop this before it gets too far. I should go to bed anyway, I gotta work in a few hours.
[What Went Wrong - Yelling At Cats]
[Over My Head - Sum 41]
[The Real Folk Blues - ????? (Cowboy Bebop Soundtrack)]
I'm too immature to do much of anything except for sit here and wallow in my self pity. I know I'm here in it, but I can't think of anything else to do. At least when I did it any other times, I was able to let myself believe that it was someone else that was making me do this, but now I know that it's just me. I'm just too pathetic and it hurts even worse now that I realize what I've done.
She said she's done trying. I always know what that means. I've tried, but I guess I just don't have it in me to try hard enough. She's happy with me most days, but I know that she's miserable with me otherwise. I'm just not enough for her, I'm not good enough for her. I know it hurts, it hurts right now, but I know I'm still numbing some of it. I can only imagine what it's going to be like when that numbness goes away and it all rushes in and hits me. I should've spent more time with her instead of trying to buy her affections.
Oh well, I knew it was just a matter of time anyway. I'm a vapid, one-dimensional individual.
I guess I should stop this before it gets too far. I should go to bed anyway, I gotta work in a few hours.
[What Went Wrong - Yelling At Cats]
[Over My Head - Sum 41]
[The Real Folk Blues - ????? (Cowboy Bebop Soundtrack)]
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Hate
Your name. The mere mention of your name evokes nothing but pain and a rising feeling of hatred. These twisted roots of deep-seated darkness seep into everything. It's bored, irrevocably into a place that I thought was already poisoned enough, yet, you continued to take a step into that dark, tainted place. You've made me that much more cynical about the world. As I get older, day by day, it feels like every experience outside of this fortress I live in just makes me question my very existence. Second guessing the motive of everything, I cannot help it. I wish it were not so, I wish I could escape to the days where everything was not so black, but you took that luxury away from me.
Hearing your name, regardless of the mood and tone, it can erase all feelings of euphoria and pleasure and instantly cascade me into streams of despair. Feeling my chest compress and old gashes in my psyche tear open, made fresh, new, and raw again, is something that I am afraid to think may always be there. To feel that weakness, to always feel that crippling anxiety, is something I wish I could escape, something I could forget. They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all; whoever said that is a joke.
That crippling weight that plasters onto my mind, plunging me of all rational thought and shredding my sanity temporarily is something not even Shelby could do for I can easily hate her. As much as I like her, what once made me weak was instead turned into an overwhelming and over powering anger that motivates me. Do not fret, however, I suppose you would not, for you have created an anger inside of me that rages on in everything that I touch. I workout and tire myself, if only to escape feeling your skin pressed against mine even in my imagination. It sickens me to have that constant reminder of my fragility engrained into my mind.
Then there's the dreams. Not content to just being able to torture me by the mere mention of your name, you haunt my dreams. I see you there, though I wish you were not. I long to taste your skin, to feel your breath, but it eludes me even there. You laugh at me, spitefully, mocking my attempts to try and see you. Three times a week I am privileged and graced with your presence. Three times a week you prevent me from escaping the horrors of reality and let me live in one in a torturous state that is self inflicted. Three times I wake up, disgruntled and unsettled. As much of a masochist as you liked to play, and as much of a sadist as I fancy myself, I must admit that it is you who is the true sadistic one.
You have detached me from all hope, trust, and any semblance of mental well being. Going into bouts of depression, now having realized how hopeless the world is, what is there to be happy to look forward to? Breaking all trust, where am I to turn to when I cannot even look inward any longer unless I wish to feel the same pain but self imposed? With all of these imbalances, am I really well?
If anything, I do just have to trust you for reminding me of my sensitivity. Destroying any last bit of strength I had left, I had nothing to do but build it up again so that is what I am doing. I can only fix myself here. It's rather therapeutic if anything. I hate you. I hate me. I hate the world.
But most of all, although I know you'll never read any of this as much as I hope that you might stumble upon this, I just wish you knew how much I miss you.
Admitting that makes me feel extremely brittle and I know that admitting this is nothing but a mistake to do, but if the world is made of liars, I can at least tell the truth to the only one I trust, and even then it's a thin tenuous line, and that person is I.
Hearing your name, regardless of the mood and tone, it can erase all feelings of euphoria and pleasure and instantly cascade me into streams of despair. Feeling my chest compress and old gashes in my psyche tear open, made fresh, new, and raw again, is something that I am afraid to think may always be there. To feel that weakness, to always feel that crippling anxiety, is something I wish I could escape, something I could forget. They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all; whoever said that is a joke.
That crippling weight that plasters onto my mind, plunging me of all rational thought and shredding my sanity temporarily is something not even Shelby could do for I can easily hate her. As much as I like her, what once made me weak was instead turned into an overwhelming and over powering anger that motivates me. Do not fret, however, I suppose you would not, for you have created an anger inside of me that rages on in everything that I touch. I workout and tire myself, if only to escape feeling your skin pressed against mine even in my imagination. It sickens me to have that constant reminder of my fragility engrained into my mind.
Then there's the dreams. Not content to just being able to torture me by the mere mention of your name, you haunt my dreams. I see you there, though I wish you were not. I long to taste your skin, to feel your breath, but it eludes me even there. You laugh at me, spitefully, mocking my attempts to try and see you. Three times a week I am privileged and graced with your presence. Three times a week you prevent me from escaping the horrors of reality and let me live in one in a torturous state that is self inflicted. Three times I wake up, disgruntled and unsettled. As much of a masochist as you liked to play, and as much of a sadist as I fancy myself, I must admit that it is you who is the true sadistic one.
You have detached me from all hope, trust, and any semblance of mental well being. Going into bouts of depression, now having realized how hopeless the world is, what is there to be happy to look forward to? Breaking all trust, where am I to turn to when I cannot even look inward any longer unless I wish to feel the same pain but self imposed? With all of these imbalances, am I really well?
If anything, I do just have to trust you for reminding me of my sensitivity. Destroying any last bit of strength I had left, I had nothing to do but build it up again so that is what I am doing. I can only fix myself here. It's rather therapeutic if anything. I hate you. I hate me. I hate the world.
But most of all, although I know you'll never read any of this as much as I hope that you might stumble upon this, I just wish you knew how much I miss you.
Admitting that makes me feel extremely brittle and I know that admitting this is nothing but a mistake to do, but if the world is made of liars, I can at least tell the truth to the only one I trust, and even then it's a thin tenuous line, and that person is I.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Dearest L
Dear L,
I know the chances are REALLY fucking slim you'll ever read this, but no matter when you do, most of this will still be true. I was prompted to write a letter to someone who you know will never read it, but part of me secretly hopes that you do. I don't want to guilt you, if anything, I want to thank you.
Overall, I don't know how I should feel about you. You gave me a lot but took away just as much. I go through bouts of hating everything about you and missing you just as deeply. I don't care about the fact that you chose someone else over me, hell, I don't even care that you became a lesbian after me. I just hate the fact that you cut me off without giving me any kind of reason. When I asked you, all you said was because. Then you pull some shit about me respecting your space and how I shouldn't ask? Fuck you. I respected you, but that's bullshit and I no longer do.
I was so fucking angry that I almost broke the knuckles in my fists breaking shit; blood dripped from my fingers. I wasn't angry at you though, I was angry at myself. In this time of my own peaceful existence and coming to terms with myself and trying to not hate everything, you reminded me of why that was naive and foolish.
You gave me a reason to hate again, a reason to be strong, a reason to be angry. I forgot, maybe it was because of you yourself that I had forgotten in the first place, but I had forgotten not to trust too deeply, and that was a mistake that I pay for dearly. You opened my eyes once more to the darkness of the world, that people will easily take advantage of someone given the chance.
You helped me become stronger. If not for you, I would not have started getting back into shape. I wouldn't have started working out, if anything, to give myself a legal outlet in which to workout (hah, pun) my fury. In the two months it's been, I've lost forty pounds of fat. My state of emotional contentment kept me weak both in body and mind. You released it and helped me embrace my rage and hostility, and for that, I thank you.I appreciate that you have revealed to me the shadows and monsters that exist in the world, and most of all me.
However, I would be lying to say I don't I miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss how easy it would be to mess with you and get you flustered. I miss how you would purr. I miss how hard you blush. I miss all of your little antics. I miss those naive times that I had. But most of all, I miss being okay with you knowing how weak I am.
Signed, Cozy.
I know the chances are REALLY fucking slim you'll ever read this, but no matter when you do, most of this will still be true. I was prompted to write a letter to someone who you know will never read it, but part of me secretly hopes that you do. I don't want to guilt you, if anything, I want to thank you.
Overall, I don't know how I should feel about you. You gave me a lot but took away just as much. I go through bouts of hating everything about you and missing you just as deeply. I don't care about the fact that you chose someone else over me, hell, I don't even care that you became a lesbian after me. I just hate the fact that you cut me off without giving me any kind of reason. When I asked you, all you said was because. Then you pull some shit about me respecting your space and how I shouldn't ask? Fuck you. I respected you, but that's bullshit and I no longer do.
I was so fucking angry that I almost broke the knuckles in my fists breaking shit; blood dripped from my fingers. I wasn't angry at you though, I was angry at myself. In this time of my own peaceful existence and coming to terms with myself and trying to not hate everything, you reminded me of why that was naive and foolish.
You gave me a reason to hate again, a reason to be strong, a reason to be angry. I forgot, maybe it was because of you yourself that I had forgotten in the first place, but I had forgotten not to trust too deeply, and that was a mistake that I pay for dearly. You opened my eyes once more to the darkness of the world, that people will easily take advantage of someone given the chance.
You helped me become stronger. If not for you, I would not have started getting back into shape. I wouldn't have started working out, if anything, to give myself a legal outlet in which to workout (hah, pun) my fury. In the two months it's been, I've lost forty pounds of fat. My state of emotional contentment kept me weak both in body and mind. You released it and helped me embrace my rage and hostility, and for that, I thank you.I appreciate that you have revealed to me the shadows and monsters that exist in the world, and most of all me.
However, I would be lying to say I don't I miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss how easy it would be to mess with you and get you flustered. I miss how you would purr. I miss how hard you blush. I miss all of your little antics. I miss those naive times that I had. But most of all, I miss being okay with you knowing how weak I am.
Signed, Cozy.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Shit
My life is just swirling down to utter shit at the moment. This really is the only place I can log these feelings of mine without anyone knowing. The only place. I'm glad I set this up so I can vent my feelings. Should help me feel better.
Well, a friend of mine died. His name was Ubong. A man from Africa, he was one of the most eloquent, respecting, well mannered, polite people it has ever been in my fortune to meet. He was always willing to help out another, could never speak ill will of anyone even if his life depended on it....Maybe that's bad phrasing to use right now.
Ubong was someone I met at work and I'm glad I did. There's only two other people who I could say are as selfless as he was; my two friends, Ben and Anthony Hoff. Such pure generosity of spirit is so rare nowadays it was quite hopeful to see it. Studious, hard working... He didn't deserve this. As they say, the good die young, and he was one of the best.
All of this happened a week ago. I found out he died a week after the fact. Nobody told me anything. It's not like anyone actively hid it, it's just that nobody fucking bothered. It's like the soulless leeches at my job just didn't give a shit and all they saw was that they have one less worker. I fucking hate them. He only has one family member, and they're in California. He died alone. One of the best people I have ever known, and he died alone. Heaven better be real. He better be up there finally free from the torment of this world and able to be with his family. Ubong, if you can read this right now, if somehow you know that I'm typing this...You're a great guy.
Speaking of the lifeless corporate fuckers, I'm getting a demotion and a huge ass paycut. As much as I hate to admit it, I know have to admit that I am now owned by a corporation. They haven't completely bought me, but I know now that they own me. Coming down to ACEN, they told me I would get demoted even though I told them what I'd be doing fucking months ahead of time. So...I took the hit. I got demoted. Or..well, getting demoted. I'm going to get a pay cut. So not only have I sold my soul doing things that I should never do, things that I feel are completely and morally wrong, but now they own who I am. I guess 7.50 ends up being the price of my being. I still have some fight left though... I will not become lost to the world.
I might get fired though. I was supposed to be home yesterday (Today is Monday, 30th of April). I was supposed to buy a bus ticket and get my ass home and so I did. I was supposed to wake up and get there early. So I did. Then I found out that I got to the wrong bus stop. The completely wrong one. I waited at the wrong fucking bus station. Waiting for nothing, like the rest of my fucking life.
Being broke, I had no choice but to walk back to the convention center and my own foolish pride was my downfall. I was too prideful to ask for help and so I wandered around trying to find my way back. I got lost in the forest, probably the only fucking forest in Chicago, for four fucking hours. In the meantime I despaired and was starting to feel things crack. The pressure from everything was just starting to get to me, I was weak and helpless. I'm such a wreck.
Then there's the coup de gras. Elle.
Her and I have been fooling around with each other. Not too much, but we have been fooling around. It's been fun while it's lasted. I regret it though. I fucking regret every moment of it. I discovered that in doing so, being back with her has jump started feelings that I forgot I had. How did I find this out? Why do I regret this? Aren't feelings supposed to be a wonderful thing and since we're fooling around already doesn't it mean we could probably be together officially? Nope.
She recently rekindled an old fire with another guy. She really, really likes the guy, and while I was out getting lost and even at a rave trying to have a good time she was rediscovering her feelings for this guy and there was nothing I could do but just wait for her to tell me she was done with me. I realized how jealous I was and how much it hurt and it makes me feel fucking terrible. I have no right to feel this bad, yet I do. She doesn't want to do this anymore. I want to be with her I realize but she'd never see me like that. I just know that she wouldn't. I don't know why, but I can just feel like I'll never be anymore than the fuck buddy. Not even that, we never even fucked. I have no fucking right to feel this terrible. I hate myself. I hate these feelings. I hate feelings. Why do I have to have them? They do me no good except drag me down. I don't understand how people can carry these things with them. I'm on the verge of tears, the first tears of sorrow to fall from my eyes in nearly ten years.
I will keep these all inside me though. I vented to one person, I may tell one more person, but that is all. Aside from those two cracks, all of it will be kept inside of me until I die. I will keep my feelings, my secrets, the only two things left that are truly mine, and drown them in my darkness until I am swallowed in it.
Listening to a song called "Help is on the Way" by Rise Against. Sometimes it feels like there is no help.
Maybe this is just a way for the universe to show me what a terrible person I am. The terrible person I have turned out to be. Turns everything around on me and make me watch it collapse. Do all these terrible things to me while I'm supposed to be having a good time. All this juxtaposition to make it seem that much more terrible by contrast. I don't deserve to feel what I'm feeling. I don't deserve to be sad or angry. I should've just stayed in the forest. Left everyone. I fucking hate all of this. All of my hate.
Edit: I also got into a car accident later on. Just to add injury to insult.
Edit II: At the very end of the night, that girl from 'My Love(less) Life' decided that being friends with me was "too difficult" and she doesn't see the point in being friends with me anymore. After doing countless things for her, picking her up from random ass places because she chose to get drunk/high with strangers and doing that at the drop of a hat, after being ditched and let down an infinite number of times...It's too difficult for her to try and be friends with me. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.
Well, a friend of mine died. His name was Ubong. A man from Africa, he was one of the most eloquent, respecting, well mannered, polite people it has ever been in my fortune to meet. He was always willing to help out another, could never speak ill will of anyone even if his life depended on it....Maybe that's bad phrasing to use right now.
Ubong was someone I met at work and I'm glad I did. There's only two other people who I could say are as selfless as he was; my two friends, Ben and Anthony Hoff. Such pure generosity of spirit is so rare nowadays it was quite hopeful to see it. Studious, hard working... He didn't deserve this. As they say, the good die young, and he was one of the best.
All of this happened a week ago. I found out he died a week after the fact. Nobody told me anything. It's not like anyone actively hid it, it's just that nobody fucking bothered. It's like the soulless leeches at my job just didn't give a shit and all they saw was that they have one less worker. I fucking hate them. He only has one family member, and they're in California. He died alone. One of the best people I have ever known, and he died alone. Heaven better be real. He better be up there finally free from the torment of this world and able to be with his family. Ubong, if you can read this right now, if somehow you know that I'm typing this...You're a great guy.
Speaking of the lifeless corporate fuckers, I'm getting a demotion and a huge ass paycut. As much as I hate to admit it, I know have to admit that I am now owned by a corporation. They haven't completely bought me, but I know now that they own me. Coming down to ACEN, they told me I would get demoted even though I told them what I'd be doing fucking months ahead of time. So...I took the hit. I got demoted. Or..well, getting demoted. I'm going to get a pay cut. So not only have I sold my soul doing things that I should never do, things that I feel are completely and morally wrong, but now they own who I am. I guess 7.50 ends up being the price of my being. I still have some fight left though... I will not become lost to the world.
I might get fired though. I was supposed to be home yesterday (Today is Monday, 30th of April). I was supposed to buy a bus ticket and get my ass home and so I did. I was supposed to wake up and get there early. So I did. Then I found out that I got to the wrong bus stop. The completely wrong one. I waited at the wrong fucking bus station. Waiting for nothing, like the rest of my fucking life.
Being broke, I had no choice but to walk back to the convention center and my own foolish pride was my downfall. I was too prideful to ask for help and so I wandered around trying to find my way back. I got lost in the forest, probably the only fucking forest in Chicago, for four fucking hours. In the meantime I despaired and was starting to feel things crack. The pressure from everything was just starting to get to me, I was weak and helpless. I'm such a wreck.
Then there's the coup de gras. Elle.
Her and I have been fooling around with each other. Not too much, but we have been fooling around. It's been fun while it's lasted. I regret it though. I fucking regret every moment of it. I discovered that in doing so, being back with her has jump started feelings that I forgot I had. How did I find this out? Why do I regret this? Aren't feelings supposed to be a wonderful thing and since we're fooling around already doesn't it mean we could probably be together officially? Nope.
She recently rekindled an old fire with another guy. She really, really likes the guy, and while I was out getting lost and even at a rave trying to have a good time she was rediscovering her feelings for this guy and there was nothing I could do but just wait for her to tell me she was done with me. I realized how jealous I was and how much it hurt and it makes me feel fucking terrible. I have no right to feel this bad, yet I do. She doesn't want to do this anymore. I want to be with her I realize but she'd never see me like that. I just know that she wouldn't. I don't know why, but I can just feel like I'll never be anymore than the fuck buddy. Not even that, we never even fucked. I have no fucking right to feel this terrible. I hate myself. I hate these feelings. I hate feelings. Why do I have to have them? They do me no good except drag me down. I don't understand how people can carry these things with them. I'm on the verge of tears, the first tears of sorrow to fall from my eyes in nearly ten years.
I will keep these all inside me though. I vented to one person, I may tell one more person, but that is all. Aside from those two cracks, all of it will be kept inside of me until I die. I will keep my feelings, my secrets, the only two things left that are truly mine, and drown them in my darkness until I am swallowed in it.
Listening to a song called "Help is on the Way" by Rise Against. Sometimes it feels like there is no help.
Maybe this is just a way for the universe to show me what a terrible person I am. The terrible person I have turned out to be. Turns everything around on me and make me watch it collapse. Do all these terrible things to me while I'm supposed to be having a good time. All this juxtaposition to make it seem that much more terrible by contrast. I don't deserve to feel what I'm feeling. I don't deserve to be sad or angry. I should've just stayed in the forest. Left everyone. I fucking hate all of this. All of my hate.
Edit: I also got into a car accident later on. Just to add injury to insult.
Edit II: At the very end of the night, that girl from 'My Love(less) Life' decided that being friends with me was "too difficult" and she doesn't see the point in being friends with me anymore. After doing countless things for her, picking her up from random ass places because she chose to get drunk/high with strangers and doing that at the drop of a hat, after being ditched and let down an infinite number of times...It's too difficult for her to try and be friends with me. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Weird Emotions
I've been feeling weird lately. I'm glad that nobody reads this anymore because this one is quite the...Debbie Downer of posts if anything. I have to write this however, at least for myself so that one day if I need to go back and do an evaluation about myself, I'll have something to draw from.
Lately I have been feeling a plethora of emotions drawing mostly from anger and depression. I think it's a good thing though, it used to be that I couldn't ever feel these things, but that doesn't mean I like it regardless. I don't know what to think about them, but at least I know why they're there.
The reason why I've been feeling down is the same reason why it always is; love-or lack thereof. I've been playing this one game recently called Katawa Shoujo and unfortunately got too deep into it. It's a visual novel (though I'm sure I'll never forget) with a few aspects of a dating sim. It's about a guy who ends up going to a school for the disabled and ends up falling in love with one of five girls; that's where the choices come in. The few choices you can make in the beginning determine what girl you end up trying to achieve. The choices you make after that determines whether you get the good or bad ending.
The first time I ended up being with a girl named Emi. She had no legs, but with her prosthetic legs, she ended up becoming the track star at the school. Falling in love with her upbeat cheeriness and her overall cute, positive demeanor, she was someone who was quite realistic, believable and no surprise to be my first 'choice'. As headstrong as I am and as brash in her physical condition as I do when I workout in the summers. She was also very shut in with her own emotions and push people away like how I do when people try to get in too deep with me. I could sympathize with her.
Like all good stories, there's always some kind of conflict and I thought it was going to end up being the confession part. That part was actually straight forward, hell, she came onto 'me'. The conflict came in being able to push past all her barriers and getting to be there for her. Long story short, I ended up making all the right decisions in the end and was finally able to be with her, and with the way things happened, it was truly satisfying. It felt good to experience some kind of love. Lately with girls I've been feeling too many feelings of lust so it was a nice balance.
Then came the next girl when I restarted. Her name is Lilly, she's blind, and quite proper. Very nice and cordial yet not in an innocent and condescending way, just very polite and thoughtful. Her story was a lot more involved as you also involved a third wheel friend named Hanako. Gradually, I fell in love with her character; not in a creepy obsessed way. I 'fell in love' with her in the same way one feels nothing but feelings of awe and amazement when an action hero fucks up the bad guys shit. You know it's all fake, but it's cool to see a guy drive a car into a helicopter and make it explode.
As time went on, the 'I' fell in a lot deeper of an emotional state with Lilly than I did with Emi. Maybe that's cause initially Lilly let me in, their confession to each other heartfelt and deep. Loving each other unconditionally. That's when, although I didn't realize it, it got personal. Things went on and I ended up achieving the bad ending. It was terrible; it broke me. As sad as it is, it completely broke me.
Hitting both of those at the same time killed me with a dose of depression. Due to some personal issues that I don't think I'll ever be able to overcome (future self, hopefully when you read this, you will have. That's just wishful thinking though), I feel like nobody will ever be able to love me unconditionally. Hell, sometimes I feel like I won't even be fully loved. Most people can say that they've felt love, which I have so there's that, they've felt heart break, and I've felt more than my fair share of that. Yet, I have never been loved myself. I don't know what it's like to have a girl cry over me and hold me close.
As much of a pussy as I feel admitting it, I remember holding a couple of girls close to me and loving the feeling of it. Feeling my heartbeat in the chest so hard that it physically hurt. Wanting to hold onto those girls but they gave me up in a snap. For one reason or another, I'm just not meant to be kept. Sure, there are girls that have liked me, no doubt about that, but it never gets deeper than that. Thinking about that has depressed me and bummed me out, breaking me out.
Then there's the other extreme.
This deep rooted anger. It's been coming and going in flares. It's been raging and boiling within for one reason or another. Lately I've been coming to resent a lot of things rather quickly. My family, some of my friends, myself. It's been quite easy.
My mom, just like I said in a post quite awhile ago as I re-read through them, is indeed using me. Using me as an ATM. Doing nothing but sapping my cash from me to pay for her things. I have to pay to live here and on top of that spend a large part of my checks on groceries. Then my mom gets a new car and suddenly I have to start paying more. Another fifty bucks a month and she expects this to me as if I owe this to her.
I used to think that that I owed it to her for raising me, but these thoughts as I've started to reflect on my past and future have started to be clear. I raised myself. Sure, she fed me and put a roof over my head and did get me a few things through the years, but that is something that it is the responsibility of the parent to do. I raised myself and all the things that I did for myself, I did it all by myself. I never asked for help even once. I do not ask for advice, I do not live my life for others. All the large things I did all by myself through wit and being resourceful.
Most kids have to get a car from their parents or relatives. I earned my car. I had to sacrifice getting any kind of job until after I got out of school because I had to devote myself to family and raising my little brother. I had to sacrifice my own relationships, times when precious memories could have been made, just too much time in general, all of them forsaken just to keep family stability. People say that family is all we have, but I could laugh at that.
Having to hide every single thing that I do out of guilt or shame on things that I shouldn't even have to feel guilty about. People have expressed their concern and sheer amazement on how I am able to hide so many things from my family or even why I would. Yet, it is the mounting pressures and stagnant feelings that have been building and swelling inside as I go out further into what has been known as 'the real world' has removed the veil from my eyes and make me see things for what they are.
Slowly, little by little, alienating myself purposely from my family I can finally start to see the fruits of it. My family is a very tight knit community, both in immediate and extended. They share and talk to each other all the time about their feelings, something I have never been able to do. I think they have realized it for now I overhear things, dramatic things (partly due to facebook) and I don't have to exposed to it, exploited and used as a scapegoat as I once was as I am starting to become my own person.
When I was a kid, I used to think that being beaten as punishment for shortcomings and doing something wrong was completely normal only to find out that I was just being abused. I thought those 'funny smells' were completely normal. Then I found out it was drugs. Time goes on and I think that the way my family uses me was normal, but now as I talk to other adults and see how they treat their kids and see my peers I realize I am just a fool again. They pretend they care, but I know that they care only out of obligation.
They always took the time to care about my sisters, my brother, other members of the family, but never me. Yet, I'm glad. I always stayed under the radar and I'm glad it's always worked. The only thing that bugs me is that I'm the only one who has to unjustifiably had to make so many sacrifices in their life in this family. Anyone else in this family, whenever they've had to deal with some kind of consequence, it's because they did something where they then deserved it. I've done nothing but keep my head down, do what I've been told; guess this is the consequences of my actions.
It's all these recent revelations that have cut my fuse. I used to live with the mindset that it's alright because it could always be worse. But I'm tired of putting up with mediocre. I want better. Maybe I'm finally Americanized.
I just hope that I'll learn to bottle up this new found rage and sadness as I have with other much more mundane things.
Lately I have been feeling a plethora of emotions drawing mostly from anger and depression. I think it's a good thing though, it used to be that I couldn't ever feel these things, but that doesn't mean I like it regardless. I don't know what to think about them, but at least I know why they're there.
The reason why I've been feeling down is the same reason why it always is; love-or lack thereof. I've been playing this one game recently called Katawa Shoujo and unfortunately got too deep into it. It's a visual novel (though I'm sure I'll never forget) with a few aspects of a dating sim. It's about a guy who ends up going to a school for the disabled and ends up falling in love with one of five girls; that's where the choices come in. The few choices you can make in the beginning determine what girl you end up trying to achieve. The choices you make after that determines whether you get the good or bad ending.
The first time I ended up being with a girl named Emi. She had no legs, but with her prosthetic legs, she ended up becoming the track star at the school. Falling in love with her upbeat cheeriness and her overall cute, positive demeanor, she was someone who was quite realistic, believable and no surprise to be my first 'choice'. As headstrong as I am and as brash in her physical condition as I do when I workout in the summers. She was also very shut in with her own emotions and push people away like how I do when people try to get in too deep with me. I could sympathize with her.
Like all good stories, there's always some kind of conflict and I thought it was going to end up being the confession part. That part was actually straight forward, hell, she came onto 'me'. The conflict came in being able to push past all her barriers and getting to be there for her. Long story short, I ended up making all the right decisions in the end and was finally able to be with her, and with the way things happened, it was truly satisfying. It felt good to experience some kind of love. Lately with girls I've been feeling too many feelings of lust so it was a nice balance.
Then came the next girl when I restarted. Her name is Lilly, she's blind, and quite proper. Very nice and cordial yet not in an innocent and condescending way, just very polite and thoughtful. Her story was a lot more involved as you also involved a third wheel friend named Hanako. Gradually, I fell in love with her character; not in a creepy obsessed way. I 'fell in love' with her in the same way one feels nothing but feelings of awe and amazement when an action hero fucks up the bad guys shit. You know it's all fake, but it's cool to see a guy drive a car into a helicopter and make it explode.
As time went on, the 'I' fell in a lot deeper of an emotional state with Lilly than I did with Emi. Maybe that's cause initially Lilly let me in, their confession to each other heartfelt and deep. Loving each other unconditionally. That's when, although I didn't realize it, it got personal. Things went on and I ended up achieving the bad ending. It was terrible; it broke me. As sad as it is, it completely broke me.
Hitting both of those at the same time killed me with a dose of depression. Due to some personal issues that I don't think I'll ever be able to overcome (future self, hopefully when you read this, you will have. That's just wishful thinking though), I feel like nobody will ever be able to love me unconditionally. Hell, sometimes I feel like I won't even be fully loved. Most people can say that they've felt love, which I have so there's that, they've felt heart break, and I've felt more than my fair share of that. Yet, I have never been loved myself. I don't know what it's like to have a girl cry over me and hold me close.
As much of a pussy as I feel admitting it, I remember holding a couple of girls close to me and loving the feeling of it. Feeling my heartbeat in the chest so hard that it physically hurt. Wanting to hold onto those girls but they gave me up in a snap. For one reason or another, I'm just not meant to be kept. Sure, there are girls that have liked me, no doubt about that, but it never gets deeper than that. Thinking about that has depressed me and bummed me out, breaking me out.
Then there's the other extreme.
This deep rooted anger. It's been coming and going in flares. It's been raging and boiling within for one reason or another. Lately I've been coming to resent a lot of things rather quickly. My family, some of my friends, myself. It's been quite easy.
My mom, just like I said in a post quite awhile ago as I re-read through them, is indeed using me. Using me as an ATM. Doing nothing but sapping my cash from me to pay for her things. I have to pay to live here and on top of that spend a large part of my checks on groceries. Then my mom gets a new car and suddenly I have to start paying more. Another fifty bucks a month and she expects this to me as if I owe this to her.
I used to think that that I owed it to her for raising me, but these thoughts as I've started to reflect on my past and future have started to be clear. I raised myself. Sure, she fed me and put a roof over my head and did get me a few things through the years, but that is something that it is the responsibility of the parent to do. I raised myself and all the things that I did for myself, I did it all by myself. I never asked for help even once. I do not ask for advice, I do not live my life for others. All the large things I did all by myself through wit and being resourceful.
Most kids have to get a car from their parents or relatives. I earned my car. I had to sacrifice getting any kind of job until after I got out of school because I had to devote myself to family and raising my little brother. I had to sacrifice my own relationships, times when precious memories could have been made, just too much time in general, all of them forsaken just to keep family stability. People say that family is all we have, but I could laugh at that.
Having to hide every single thing that I do out of guilt or shame on things that I shouldn't even have to feel guilty about. People have expressed their concern and sheer amazement on how I am able to hide so many things from my family or even why I would. Yet, it is the mounting pressures and stagnant feelings that have been building and swelling inside as I go out further into what has been known as 'the real world' has removed the veil from my eyes and make me see things for what they are.
Slowly, little by little, alienating myself purposely from my family I can finally start to see the fruits of it. My family is a very tight knit community, both in immediate and extended. They share and talk to each other all the time about their feelings, something I have never been able to do. I think they have realized it for now I overhear things, dramatic things (partly due to facebook) and I don't have to exposed to it, exploited and used as a scapegoat as I once was as I am starting to become my own person.
When I was a kid, I used to think that being beaten as punishment for shortcomings and doing something wrong was completely normal only to find out that I was just being abused. I thought those 'funny smells' were completely normal. Then I found out it was drugs. Time goes on and I think that the way my family uses me was normal, but now as I talk to other adults and see how they treat their kids and see my peers I realize I am just a fool again. They pretend they care, but I know that they care only out of obligation.
They always took the time to care about my sisters, my brother, other members of the family, but never me. Yet, I'm glad. I always stayed under the radar and I'm glad it's always worked. The only thing that bugs me is that I'm the only one who has to unjustifiably had to make so many sacrifices in their life in this family. Anyone else in this family, whenever they've had to deal with some kind of consequence, it's because they did something where they then deserved it. I've done nothing but keep my head down, do what I've been told; guess this is the consequences of my actions.
It's all these recent revelations that have cut my fuse. I used to live with the mindset that it's alright because it could always be worse. But I'm tired of putting up with mediocre. I want better. Maybe I'm finally Americanized.
I just hope that I'll learn to bottle up this new found rage and sadness as I have with other much more mundane things.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Zombies
So I had this dream where the zombie apocalypse had begun. I was trapped in a place that looked kind of like a sewer but it was also akin to that of the pipe system a larger building might have. Nothing but corridors of stone and concrete with pipes going every which way. I was down there with two other people. One of the people as well as I were pretty average sized but the other guy we were with was quite built. We were exploring trying to find a way out until the skinny guy got caught in something. His arm was caught in some kind of weird machine.
We tried to get his arm out, but it looked like the only way he was going to get out was if he cut his arm (for whatever reason, I forgot why. Maybe using blood as lubricant? I don't know). As soon as his arm was slice however, the shuffling feet of the undead hoard was heard, and I bolted outta there. It was a cowardly move, but I wanted to live. I ran around and every now and again I would meet a crowd of the shambling decay and turn around.
I finally came into a room that lead to the surface and there were two other survivors. They were relieved I was not a zombie and we tried to come up with a solution on how to get out. There were three doors, a second level, a first level floor and a floor that was more like a split level, each door having zombies outside pounding-dying to get inside. A few more survivors showed up; right behind me, including the two guys I had abandoned. They weren't the happiest, but they understood. We finally decided we were going to have to try the door with the least amount of zombies.
We kicked down the door and apparently picked the right one. There were people outside acting as a rescue squad coming to pick up, presumably, us. One of them handed me a gun and we bolted across a field. I hadn't noticed that my best friend was also there, gunning down the undead as well as he could. Our main target was a barricaded parking garage and the path was mostly clear.
While we ran, my friend and I, we ended up getting ambushed by zombie-tykes. They jumped out of a tree and landed on my friend. He got bit once, but that's all it took. I was lucky enough to avoid being bitten, but it was close. One of them my arm in its jaws but I pressed down enough to snap its jaw clean off. Then I shot it in the face. It was odd in hindsight to shoot zombified children in the face, but at that point, it was all about survival.
We finally made it to the parking garage and saw all the weary and wounded. People with broken arms, crying over lost ones, the hungry just now finally able to get a meal...It was like a war movie. We were graciously welcomed in until they noticed my friend was bitten. They ordered him out, but I persuaded them into letting him stay so long as I took care of him.
We walked around, met a few new people, but finally we walked into the room where I guess the infected go to be killed. He was sweating and nervous, I could tell even in my dream. He didn't wanna die, but he was thankful I was the one who was going to be doing it. I gave him a bro hug and bid him farewell, and as the last bit of light faded from his eyes, I pulled the trigger. Only to find out I had run out of bullets.
That's when his eyes snapped open and he tried to eat me. My friend is a really big guy, so when he jumped on me, I was pinned down to the ground. His jaws snapped at my face and all I could do was hold his head away from me. I screamed for help, but nobody came. Finally, I gained my senses and reached up and broke his neck. His body stilled, I rolled it over, and of course, that's when help arrives.
After talking it out with some of the main organizers, I decide that I must go. Late in the dream I remember that my friend, the one who is actually from the last post, is someone I made a promise to see. No matter how hopeless it was or how dangerous it could be, I decided I was going to keep my word and started trekking off.
I hiked out using suburbs as my main path. While urban areas were obviously out of the question due to high population, if I chose the rural side, there'd be nothing to scavenge. Taking the suburbs had a low enough population at that point to be able to scavenge canned goods but there should be a low enough population as the hoards moved on to not be too much of a danger.
As I walked down the street, I admired how sunny it was and how serene the neighborhood looked. I encountered a zombie, but before I could even draw my weapon, it was shot down. I looked around, and a girl wearing a Lara Croft outfit (I've only played one of the games so I have no idea why that outfit of all things) was wielding a sniper rifle and gunned it down from afar.
We talked about the various things we've had to do and what we've done to kill things. She had a lot more experience than me talking about how she knows all the best hiding spots and how she's come close to death. In an almost RPG like fashion, she joined my party claiming it was getting boring having nearly wiped out all the undead in the area and it was time for her to move on.
Then I woke up due to my sister. I looked at the clock and noticed I would've slept for another two hours had she not woken me up, it sucks not having a room sometimes. I wondered where that dream would've gone and if I would've found Gen at the end of it. I guess I won't know.
We tried to get his arm out, but it looked like the only way he was going to get out was if he cut his arm (for whatever reason, I forgot why. Maybe using blood as lubricant? I don't know). As soon as his arm was slice however, the shuffling feet of the undead hoard was heard, and I bolted outta there. It was a cowardly move, but I wanted to live. I ran around and every now and again I would meet a crowd of the shambling decay and turn around.
I finally came into a room that lead to the surface and there were two other survivors. They were relieved I was not a zombie and we tried to come up with a solution on how to get out. There were three doors, a second level, a first level floor and a floor that was more like a split level, each door having zombies outside pounding-dying to get inside. A few more survivors showed up; right behind me, including the two guys I had abandoned. They weren't the happiest, but they understood. We finally decided we were going to have to try the door with the least amount of zombies.
We kicked down the door and apparently picked the right one. There were people outside acting as a rescue squad coming to pick up, presumably, us. One of them handed me a gun and we bolted across a field. I hadn't noticed that my best friend was also there, gunning down the undead as well as he could. Our main target was a barricaded parking garage and the path was mostly clear.
While we ran, my friend and I, we ended up getting ambushed by zombie-tykes. They jumped out of a tree and landed on my friend. He got bit once, but that's all it took. I was lucky enough to avoid being bitten, but it was close. One of them my arm in its jaws but I pressed down enough to snap its jaw clean off. Then I shot it in the face. It was odd in hindsight to shoot zombified children in the face, but at that point, it was all about survival.
We finally made it to the parking garage and saw all the weary and wounded. People with broken arms, crying over lost ones, the hungry just now finally able to get a meal...It was like a war movie. We were graciously welcomed in until they noticed my friend was bitten. They ordered him out, but I persuaded them into letting him stay so long as I took care of him.
We walked around, met a few new people, but finally we walked into the room where I guess the infected go to be killed. He was sweating and nervous, I could tell even in my dream. He didn't wanna die, but he was thankful I was the one who was going to be doing it. I gave him a bro hug and bid him farewell, and as the last bit of light faded from his eyes, I pulled the trigger. Only to find out I had run out of bullets.
That's when his eyes snapped open and he tried to eat me. My friend is a really big guy, so when he jumped on me, I was pinned down to the ground. His jaws snapped at my face and all I could do was hold his head away from me. I screamed for help, but nobody came. Finally, I gained my senses and reached up and broke his neck. His body stilled, I rolled it over, and of course, that's when help arrives.
After talking it out with some of the main organizers, I decide that I must go. Late in the dream I remember that my friend, the one who is actually from the last post, is someone I made a promise to see. No matter how hopeless it was or how dangerous it could be, I decided I was going to keep my word and started trekking off.
I hiked out using suburbs as my main path. While urban areas were obviously out of the question due to high population, if I chose the rural side, there'd be nothing to scavenge. Taking the suburbs had a low enough population at that point to be able to scavenge canned goods but there should be a low enough population as the hoards moved on to not be too much of a danger.
As I walked down the street, I admired how sunny it was and how serene the neighborhood looked. I encountered a zombie, but before I could even draw my weapon, it was shot down. I looked around, and a girl wearing a Lara Croft outfit (I've only played one of the games so I have no idea why that outfit of all things) was wielding a sniper rifle and gunned it down from afar.
We talked about the various things we've had to do and what we've done to kill things. She had a lot more experience than me talking about how she knows all the best hiding spots and how she's come close to death. In an almost RPG like fashion, she joined my party claiming it was getting boring having nearly wiped out all the undead in the area and it was time for her to move on.
Then I woke up due to my sister. I looked at the clock and noticed I would've slept for another two hours had she not woken me up, it sucks not having a room sometimes. I wondered where that dream would've gone and if I would've found Gen at the end of it. I guess I won't know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)