Apologies, Facts, and Minsinterpreted Drivel

Originally Posted: 4/23/06

There are a hundred million reasons why I'm insignificant. A thousand more that tell you I am everything. But facts are just facts in the minds of those convinced. For the rest of us, its merely opinion. Opinion with enough propoganda to make it real. So feelings suffice, and mold who we are, rather than the things we know. Our hearts define us. Our minds just let us be controlled. I've often wondered about the things I've done before. What brought about the events, what about my life caused these things to happen? I know, some of you are getting sick of me being sentimental. Sick of me reminiscing about old friends (ok, one old friend) and never really saying what I mean. Well, then I have good news for you...



Fuck you. I was lying. I don't have any good news. This is my piece of the universe and I'll litter it with whatever I please. Truth is, I don't say what I mean because I haven't figured out how to do so yet. Its like having a baseball shoved in your throat and trying to describe how it feels. Bad analogy, but close enough to the truth. I've just been exploring some things I hadn't thought to go into before and it brings back some issues I've had tucked safely away in the nest of my inhumanity for some time now. Uncomfortable, yes, but not altogether unpleasant. It gives me the motivation and the most sincere need I can imagine having, to finally try and right some things I've done wrong.

I've hurt alot of people. I've hurt alot of deserving people. More importantly, I've hurt a few undeserving people. I can't say I'm remorseful because doing that, would just be senseless. It would imply that all the things we went through were for nothing. This, above all else, is untrue. Everything I have done has served a purpose and even if I hated who I was, I don't hate who I've become. Well, most of the time. My issue is what I had to do to become this thing.

I'm afraid of some things. They don't include spiders of being alone. Spiders are just creatures like any other: fun to kill but otherwise, of little significance to me. Being alone is something I've always told people I feared. Here's the kicker though: Hah, I'm a liar. I'm not afraid to be alone, to be entirely honest, I'm afraid I don't care enough to be with someone else. Want to know what else I'm afraid of? Paralysis. Letting my foods touch on my plate. Fatherhood. Being implicated for sodomy and yes, bumblebees give me the willies.

Back to my original topic....which...was never actually established. So, let's get some more bullshit in first. I'm tired of being poetic. I'm tired of trying to find new ways to say the same old shit and sick to death of trying to move people to better understand what I feel. Words are utterly meaningless unless you can see past them. Look me in the face and tell me you understand a single fucking thing I say and unless you're among the most elite human beings I've ever met...I'll stab out your eyes and kick your god damned teeth in.

People are so fucking pretentious about what they know and don't know it absolutely sickens me. If you can recite Shakespeare it doesn't make you any more intelligent than someone who can name every city in Ireland. If you can write beautiful poetry it doesn't make you any more in tune with yourself than a rapper from Buffalo. The truth is, people can go their entire lives without ever knowing a single thing. The only things you'll ever know, are the ones you beleive with your entire being. Your mind can not be the only part of you convinced of the truth. If so, it isn't the truth.

That said, I need to smoke while I think about what else I want to say in this...piece of shit.

Speaking of pieces of shit, I truly am. Not the lowest kind, but I'm down there toward the bottom.

For Tiffany, the Mistress Morbid I spoke of in the last little....thing I wrote, I am sorry (I'm doing away with anonymity because I personally doubt anyone reads this anyway). There is truly no better way I can say it than that. I'm still trying to gather the nerve to call and explain what the fuck is wrong with my head all of a sudden but there's the most primal form of it. I know that everything I've done and undone has left what was there utterly spent and I want more than anything to breathe life back into it. I want my friend back. Fuck, I want what was, at one point, the only thing in my life that mattered back. The face I woke up for every morning, the smile I took every breath to keep seeing, the dreams I slept in hopes of having. Christ, I threw so much shit away for something that will never mean anything to me. I gave it all away for nothing. I can see I've gone far beyond what I had intended with this. "Hinsight is always 20/20; Looking back its still a bit fuzzy".



How I despise Megadeath.

No, that's not fair. I don't despise them.



No more than I despise anything else, at any rate.

I think I've forgotten how to hate. It wasn't a really useful emotion to begin with, but it served its purpose well when called upon. I either enjoy things, or they don't exist to me. Its almost as if everything I don't like is dead to me. At least in my world. Damn, Trent Reznor always knows exactly what to write about. I need to take a shit sometime soon, or my ass is going to explode.

Anyway, I can see I'm about to ramble on some more. So before I go into another outburst about my personal feelings and the absolute hysteria that's been threatening to overtake what's left of my brain (parasites and madness have claimed most of it), I'm going to end this diatribe.



I haven't titled it yet. How about..."Apologies, Facts, and Misinterpreted Drivel"? Yeah, sounds about right. Goodnight, and Good Luck.

-Scar Rider