Saturday, August 26, 2006 // 12:32 AM

babble

it's not about pride, this time, it really isn't. it's about the entire fundamental issue: what is and why and how the heck can i possibly know. i was angry a while ago, i banged on my piano, i threw things around and felt, not reality sliding, but the whole damn world breaking into a mindless babbling. i'm sick of this, i'm sick of this, i hate this, i don't want to be here again. i just don't think i can handle it.

but now i'm just tired, i'm tired, i'm sick and tired of fighting. not that i have been fighting, but i just don't trust anymore, i just don't think truth will come in words, i'm sick of words and the endlessly trying to capture things in a jar. something we can brandish, something that we can impose.

i can't find still and unturning centre of things, i want. i want a cigarette because it would screw me up physically and give me a reason to stop thinking. i want to sit in the black of my room playing without you i am nothing. i feel the need to do this destructively, i feel the need to destroy people, to kick down worlds, to destroy myself. destroy myself so that when i heal, things would be coherent, an improvement. and i can say, well i've taken shit for it, well i've had enough. because i had enough a long time ago and i won't. i won't feel that way again.

dennis, in my head, cop out cop out cop out. we are older, we should know better; the excuses i gave i won't accept, for myself, anymore.

i can't believe beyond the chaos. how i want right now, to continue in this everyday-ness. not be challenged to think, because. because the intellectual process feels tedious and convoluted and endlessly endlessly. futile.

and the childishness, i can't stand it anymore. the preening and the pettiness and the giggling mundane stupidity. while i think i'm a terrible person, i also think: you're a terrible person. is this the norm, does it achieve nothing at all, for me to say, stop whingeing like a bloody two year old. i can't stand it. i can't stand your high maintainance, i can't stand my high maintainance, i want to shed myself like a skin. i can't stand all this hypocriscy and stupidity and complaining when we have nothing to complain about, we have nothing to complain about. does it occur to you to be thankful, that the world has never revolved around you? that your renouncing of reality is like your shaking your fists at a giant? how, how stupid, how absolutely braindead, of course you are the master of your own universe, of course no one tells you what to do.

i have only been able to mute all this in the process of the artificial exercise. wait, wait til the fuss dies down, and let me see if there is anything left. can someone tell me what the heck is true, anymore? not just a chasing after a wind, not just for tomorrow we die. because everytime i tread this line it springs back at me, and i pause, this time, i go right to the finish line, i assume that i have not grown, after all these years. after all these years, i want normalcy but that seems to involve the shutting down of my head and i would do it. i would do it because i want to be sane and i don't trust myself, i don't trust myself, to go it alone.

i need to stop thinking about this.