The Art of Obscenity

Some days I just don’t want to go to work, but too bad, I have to. Life is hard. It’s hard every single day. All you can do is accept it and try to find the positive. The secret to life is fucking deal with it. It’s so hard at first, especially if you’re near the bottom, you can barely make sense of why you’d want to do that. But every day you do it gets better. You just change your perspective, little by little, until you start to see as much good as you do bad. Maybe more. The negative stops being important.

I realised last night that even on my darkest days I still haven’t thought of ending my life, cutting, poisoning myself with alcohol in I don’t know how long. It just prolongs my agony, makes it easier to be negative. I’m so far from my own goals and maybe I put too much pressure on myself, but at least that pressure is now working to move me forward sometimes. I started late and my journey has been long, but I can see where I’m going even if I’m not there yet. It gets a little clearer every day. I feel a little less lost. Happier even.

I tried to write a post that wasn’t about me. Just about an opinion I had. On books, and then on tv, and then on some other things. It was all about over-framing and… whatever, I got super self-conscious and deleted it. I can share my inner most secrets, but not my opinions. I guess cause I want to share my opinion and I don’t want to share my secrets. I’m so incredibly ridiculous. But really I already knew this. The whole reason I write in public is for misdirection. To trick my head into believing it’s about it being read and not about it being written. I tried writing in private, only for myself, it never went well. With no reason to filter it wasn’t any different then my own thoughts. It’s only in not wanting to be perceived badly that I stop long enough to think about why that might be in the first place. If I can make sense of it then I’m perfectly ok with sharing it because I came out of it. It’s only when I can’t make sense of what I’m thinking, when I can no longer trust at all what’s right and what’s wrong that I can’t write at all. When my head is just static. White noise.

Just because someone says you’re awesome doesn’t mean they want you, but just because they don’t want you doesn’t mean they don’t think you’re awesome. More importantly, the one person who should always think you’re amazing and wonderful and can do anything is yourself. We fall apart, lose our composure, get drunk, get high, cry, break shit, scream, fuck strangers, cut, do whatever we can but it isn’t because of other people, it’s because we lose faith in ourselves. We let the opinion of another person have more weight than our own, even though they’ve never been us, known what we’ve known, seen what we’ve seen. We’re so afraid of never making a connection to another person that it consumes us.

It’s all just perception though and that’s starting to sink in more and more. We choose how we see the world and how we feel about it. Most of the time for most of the people the pattern is so ingrained they don’t even question if what they’re doing, how they’re thinking, how they’re feeling could be perceived in a completely different way. If they’re upset it’s even harder because you don’t think clearly when you’re upset. Still if you push this idea to the forefront of your mind and you force it to stay there, you punch it and kick it and drag it back every time it tries to retreat, then you start to realise there’s no point in being upset about anything. That no matter what happens out there, you are still the exact same amazing person you’ve always been, it’s your choice if you want to change or not, if you want to care or not. Because every minute wasted letting other people make you feel bad is a minute you could have used to make yourself feel good.

My self-image is terrible. A lot of the time I still see myself as worthless, pointless, unnecessary. It’s so hard to have any motivation and getting high just to deal with the frustration that causes destroys what little I have left. I’m stagnating and I know it. Yet at the same time, somehow, I know these are lies. Things my head is telling me in my own voice so that I just give up. So that it all becomes true. And this too frustrates me.

All I have to do is ask for help, and I still won’t do it. Can’t do it. The only lesson I was ever taught was that I can do anything. It was reinforced by forcing me to do everything for myself. And if I did it wrong, then in their eyes I failed them. It’s all I know. I’ll happily help others, I’m never as happy as when I have someone I love in my life cause it gives me things to do. I just can’t let anyone do anything for me. I can’t let anyone support me. In my mind it isn’t necessary. It’s insulting to think I need anything from anyone. Even while I understand in a different part of my mind that it’s completely and totally necessary because without it I die from the inside out.

I would let go, but every time I’ve ever trusted anyone it was the wrong person. People will always fail you sooner or later. To think otherwise is madness too. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. It means I have to change. Me. My perception of my reality has to change. The very idea seems impossible. Completely fucking impossible. Yet somehow it’s not. If you want it badly enough you can believe anything. It isn’t easy, in a weird way I’m like the Christian raised that way his whole life that refuses to let go of his faith. I was raised to believe people are worthless and myself as well. That it’s easier just to feel nothing cause then no one can hurt you.

I guess what really sucks about that is realising I taught it to myself. It’s not like my parents taught me my religion, I made it up so as to deal with how they made me feel. I ran away from everything without ever running away. It’s why I hate myself so much. I shouldn’t, I made the choice between being dead inside and being dead. Some part of me still thinks I made the wrong choice. That the 15+ years of misery born of confusion and anger weren’t worth it. Some other part of me does though. Wants life and will do anything to have it. Sees the beauty in everything and only wants to be a part of it. That’s the me I live for now. A little more every day. I am slowly changing my perception of myself.

Me: I no longer give a fuck what anyone thinks about me.

Ze German: But you’ve never cared what anyone thought about you.

Me: No, that’s just what I told people while secretely obsessing over their perception of me. Now I really don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.