Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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Some folks are born made to wave the flag, ooo the red white and blue, and when the band plays "Hail to the chief" ooo they point the cannon at you

I want to hurt. I want to cry. I want to let out the tension built up deep inside of me that has me walking through my days in a daze. I want a release. But I can't find it. I can't figure out how to morn for this kind of loss. I don't know if it's over yet. I want to do something. And all around people want to go on with "normal" life and that's supposed to be the way to not let the terrorists win. But I am profoundly sad for the human species right now. What chance have we at surviving as a race when we are so willing to kill eachother like this. And I know that even if we wiped out all the terrorists, even if we decimated radical Islamic factions that still more will appear, and next time it will be a nuke. It is only a matter of time before millions of people die at the hands of a few. Before a wrath that should be reserved for a god that doesn't exist is released by human hands. We bombed Hiroshima, we bombed Nagasaki. At the time we were saving lives, doing the "right thing." But what we unleashed lo those 56 years ago is going to bite us in the ass and the world will never be the same. People keep asking me if my loved ones are alright. I don't have any loved ones. I don't have any WAY of getting loved ones. I am profoundly alone in the heart of the greatest city in the world now set on its knees by the evil of my species. AND I WANT TO CRY.

I want to weep for the dead and the killers. For the relativistic sympathisers who think that we must be better than our enemy. That we CAN afford to be better than our enemy.

I want to fucking cry. I want to fucking DIE.

I want to do something to myself. To swear an oath or take some of the pain onto myself. I just want to hurt, to feel the pain, to have something to fight against. All I feel is tired and bored and numb.

And SO fucking godamned lead pipe to the funnybone so you can't feel your hand for a week numb. I almost wish that I had been closer to the blast so that I would have something to feel numb about.

I hate myself right now.

I hate myself.

And it feels good. I'm something I can hate, something I can hurt without repercussions, something I can control. I can look myself in the heart and say "Love will never be a part of your life" and mean it and not feel guilty afterwards. I can cut myself off from other people and from any sort of connection in response for my not having been able to do anything. Because if a person is useless in a time of tradgedy then they, then I am a useless person. I don't know all that much but I sure as FUCK know how to hurt

I know how to bleed from the psyche and the soul.

And I can't even do THAT right now. The father I loved has been gone 7 years and I still yearn for him. Now the world I grudgingly accepted is gone too. How long will I yearn and long and hurt for it? How can I live in this new world where I am TRULY irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that I SHOULD have been one of the ones to die, not people with loved ones and futures and meaning.

Take me. I'm useless. Take me. I'm worthless. Take me, my life is forfeit anyway.

Two small tears. It's a start.

How else does a person judge their own worth except by who would be hurt if they died tomorrow. The answer in my case is nobody. Nobody would cry, nobody would mourn. I matter not, just dead weight on this mortal coil.

Stupid, despised, chaff somehow mixed in with the wheat. People have been kind to me and I have never returned thier kindnesses. Nobody has cared for me because how COULD anyone care for me? Can you care for a lump of shit stuck to the bottom of your shoe? Can you care for a cancerous growth eating you from the inside out?

I don't want to write anymore right now. I don't DESERVE to write. I should close this journal, make a will leaving all my money to the Red Cross, and slit my throat.

That is what I should do. But I won't because I'm too weak and too tired. But I'm strong enough to hate myself. So that's what I'm GOING to do. Just go sit in the dark and hate myself with as much passion and strength as I can muster. Because I don't DESERVE to grieve with the rest of the REAL people, the important people.

In the end I'm not good enough to deserve the privilage of mourning the dead.
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