1/15/09

Irritation is my constant companion.  If I had it my way, I would remove all social interactions from my day.  I think my life would be better if everyone just ignored me, because then I could ignore all of them without feeling so guilty.

See, I hate almost everyone.  Well, hate is a strong word.  My feelings towards the rest of humanity range from indifferent to disappointment to irritation to hate.  Hate it reserved for those I’ve had the displeasure of actually meeting.

People say you should never judge a book by its cover, but sometimes the mere fact that it’s a book is enough to judge by.  Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how interesting the book is, if you never wanted to read a book in the first place.  It’s nothing really personal against the book, because the book can’t help being what it is.

I have been told that I am a pessimist, and that I have no faith in people.  It’s quite the contrary, really.  I’m a realist, and I have absolute faith in humanity–faith that they will be selfish, and struggle against all that does not benefit them directly.  I have faith that people will always make the wrong choice, that they will always make mistakes, that they will create discord and pain every where they go.  Yes, I have faith in humanity.

To err is human, after all.  But I don’t forgive.

And what’s to forgive, really?  After almost 22 years, I’ve gotten used to people trivializing me.  I don’t really matter.  My pain doesn’t really matter, because it’s not real.  It’s not justified, and it’s not real.  I should just shut up because I don’t know real suffering and pain.  Words can’t actually hurt people, and no one ever lifted a hand against me, so really, it doesn’t matter.

The physical pain I inflict on myself is never as good as the pain that someone else could, and should inflict on me.  I deserve pain because I can’t or won’t just shut up.  I won’t get over it.  And I think I’m so much better than everyone else, but I’m still a fucking whiner, and I hate you all anyway, and you’d think someone, somewhere would take issue with some of it and give me what I deserve.  But no one ever does.

I hate myself, and I think everyone else should too.  I don’t get why they don’t.  Mostly, I think it’s because they’re stupid.  Blind.  Ignorant.  Unable to see what’s in front of them.  All I am is a faker, a farce.

I don’t matter.  Nothing I say really matters, because no one’s listening.  No one’s ever listening, and no one’s watching.