they say that if you work hard enough and believe in yourself, you can make your dreams come true. sometimes i feel like putting a bullet through the brain of everyone who believes that. no amount of hard work will get you what you want. you can't even take it by force. some people's dreams will simply never come true. i'd love to say that the sooner you accept that fact the sooner you can get on with life, but whether you accept it or not that's just the way it is.
everyone deals with it in their own special way. some people play sports. some people write music. some people watch television all day. some people pop pills until their fucking refrigerator unplugs itself and attacks them. some people get what other people want. some people are lucky enough to get what they want. and some people are so fucking determined that they keep trying in spite of it all. they convince themselves that eventually it will happen, someday their day will come. but it's a goddamn lie, all of it.
i've reached the point at which i don't know the point of going on. not that i'm considering suicide; far from it. but what is the point? what makes a human being any better than a rat? a rat goes from day to day, doing what it has to do to survive. it's said that man is superior for his ability to enjoy life, but isn't that just an illusion? the man in the mansion on the hilltop only got it because he borrowed the money to get it. the man he borrowed from got the money from the people who put their faith in his institution, hoping to someday get their share of money to borrow. they got that money working their lives away hoping to get a chance at their dreams. but back to the man in the mansion, he will spend his life paying back his fortune working at a high paying job he hates. is that enjoyment?
this is my story; the one all the idealists and the employers and the goddamn hippies don't want you to hear; the one that shows life for what it really is: complete, hopeless, utter dogshit. i make no apology for any of my actions in writing these accounts: none were offered me when the events took place. i'll tell you everything; straightforward, unflinching detail is my best friend. i'll tell you everything so you don't end up bitter and alone; so you don't end up like me. i never knew any better, but you will.
what?
no, i am not being melodramatic! you haven't even heard the beginning, only the preface, and already you side with the world that since birth has shat on my miserable excuse for an existence? fuck you!
well, if you didn't mean anything by it then you fuck well shouldn't have bothered saying it, don't you think?
i know you're sorry. just don't do that again. now, where was i? | 