Misery

Posted: August 28, 2011 in hidden admonishment
Tags:

I’m completely miserable.
I know I shouldn’t be.
Would you like to list the reasons for me again?
Knowing just makes it worse.

“Do some reasearch.”

Do some fucking research?

Does my life appear that short sighted and impulsive?
Are you fucking kidding me?

That’s right up there with,
“Just fake it until you make it.”

Oh yes.
It is.

Fucking worthless bullshit.

So many people have less than me.
Yeah, I’m sick of that one, too.

As if I’m a particularly greedy individual.
Cut throat for fame and fortune.
Have I stepped on a disproportionate number of innocents
to get to this high position?

That’s me all over.
That’s why you had to ask me if I’m a communist, right?

Short answer, yes.
I’m more of an
equal opportunity misanthrope

long since replacing skepticism, cynicism and doubt
with antipathy for playground politics.

Not blind.

“What happened for you?”

You ask fully expecting a horror story tipped with tragedy and steeped in reinforcing abuse.
I don’t have a reason
or an excuse.
I can make one up for you if that would make you feel better about not caring that I feel worse.

Simple self-pity.
I hear that a lot, too.

Maybe.

You told me I disgusted you, because I don’t like the American populace.
I disgust you?

Good.

How much more disgusting would I find myself if you loved me?
But then, of course, plenty of people do.
No, they don’t love me.

They care.

I’m told there’s a difference.
I don’t know the difference.
I should.

I don’t.

Just shut up then.
Most of the time, I do.

Most avenues for genuine
honest
communication have been blocked.

Someday, I’ll be just like you.

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