16.5.13

i feel ashamed/spoiled/indulgent with a lot of things.  like even eating some cheap food i feel like 'why do i get to have this.'  sitting in a chair i think, "why do i get to have this.'  i dont identify with my 'peers.'  i dont like drinking at bars or going to concerts all the time or trying to fit in.  it feels dumb owning more than a little clothing.  feel like most of my life is that feeling when you just got new shoes but they feel too good for you. even doing drugs seems stupid and spoiled to me now.  even sitting here typing this shit feels dumb because there's little kids in chicago who feel terrified of where they live, and will likely be killed on some bullshit.  next time you're about to complain about something, imagine a fucking preteen kid lying in the street full of bullets and bleeding to death.  thrown out like something worse than garbage.  for no fucking reason.  and the worst part is, not identifying with anyone makes me start to attack myself, but when i'm by myself i feel fine.  i feel sad a little maybe that something made me attack myself, but i realize it's other peoples' worlds that sicken me, not mine.  i don't know what's wrong with me, i'm like, sitting here feeling tingles from being pissed.  

7 comments:

Mandy said...

"not identifying with anyone makes me start to attack myself, but when i'm by myself i feel fine."

Me too.

trevor john said...

Perhaps, like me, you refer to your penis as your shamesicle?

Anonymous said...

I think I may have turned into somewhat of a masochistic ascetic/emotional anorexic over the years. What started out of economic necessity has metastasized into mainly a means of delivering self-punishment. Why is it that I so frequently feel unworthy of anything that makes me feel good? Innocuous things like taking a hot shower...watching the sky change color at dusk.

sam pink said...

when i was younger i would starve myself for long periods of time so i could feel what it was like to starved to death.

Anonymous said...

I'm reminded of that poem "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.


You convince yourself that life isn't simply difficult or unjust—it's a test, something to be endured. Therefore it has a purpose. You have a purpose.

But we're not mythical birds. We don't rise out of our ashes.

Anonymous said...

Just find a way to live that makes you happy, and don't worry about everybody else's bullshit. And do something to help the terrified kids in Chicago.

Anonymous said...

While reading this, after reading all the previous, I hallucinated a dumpster to my left.