It's hard to be optimistic and full of love when there are always heavy undertones of hatred within your heart. Where is the silver lining? How do you rid yourself of hatred in a world that reflects your own insignificance, a world that seems inconsiderate of her inhabitants? There is good and evil, but it's not exactly black and white -- there are always greys in between that make it harder to see the better side of the world.
Lately I have found myself to be extremely irritable and hateful. I am annoyed by people so easily, from people as close as my best friends to a man passing by on his way to class. Is this what I have come to? A bitter, shrewd and hateful wench who sees nothing in people but their utter insignificance and unmistakable flaws? My cynicism and faithless outlook on humanity has returned to creep up on me, filling me with the unjustified venom of hatred.
But shamelessly, it feels good. Well, bad, too, for that matter -- it feels good and bad at the same time. Admit yourself! Everyone knows this feeling; that feeling of guilt you have for taking pleasure in hating somebody, and when your mouth releases those cathartic words of trash talk of someone you can't stand, those words that spill from your mind and out of your mouth, it feels so deliciously good like an orgasm in your throat, spreading to your head and body like an explosion of wickedness.
This is everyone, yes? Not just me?
12 January 2009
01 January 2009
The capacity to be anything
I forgot how much I really hate New Year's.
Maybe that's a bit harsh -- but I really don't enjoy it. Although I want to take part in the instant hype of welcoming in a new year, my seasonal depression kicks in, and rather than making appearances I choose to sulk in a living room with champagne and cigarettes. Poor Grisha. At this time of year I just become so reclusive, so bitter and caged. It makes sense that this would happen now, since this was around the time that my Lola died last year (I was very close to her), but growing up I just remember not being so excited about the first of 365 days that represents the start of a new year.
Now I am worried that my seasonal depression isn't so much seasonal... I get moody every now and then, and it really gets to be a drag. I am happy, but sometimes it isn't hard to get a good case of the blues. How often do you have to swing between happiness and sadness before you start to go crazy?
Sometimes I get afraid that all I am is talk. I feel like I keep on saying things about what I want to do without actually doing them, and that scares me. I'm afraid of being nothing, of being forgotten, of being full of meaningless words. Doesn't this hurt my capacity to be somebody, to be famous, to be a name -- my capacity to do or be anything?
Maybe that's a bit harsh -- but I really don't enjoy it. Although I want to take part in the instant hype of welcoming in a new year, my seasonal depression kicks in, and rather than making appearances I choose to sulk in a living room with champagne and cigarettes. Poor Grisha. At this time of year I just become so reclusive, so bitter and caged. It makes sense that this would happen now, since this was around the time that my Lola died last year (I was very close to her), but growing up I just remember not being so excited about the first of 365 days that represents the start of a new year.
Now I am worried that my seasonal depression isn't so much seasonal... I get moody every now and then, and it really gets to be a drag. I am happy, but sometimes it isn't hard to get a good case of the blues. How often do you have to swing between happiness and sadness before you start to go crazy?
Sometimes I get afraid that all I am is talk. I feel like I keep on saying things about what I want to do without actually doing them, and that scares me. I'm afraid of being nothing, of being forgotten, of being full of meaningless words. Doesn't this hurt my capacity to be somebody, to be famous, to be a name -- my capacity to do or be anything?
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