Over the Pond

My life has become a series of disconnected moments.  Everything is nebulous, like I am never in myself.  But, I’m always here.  Even as everything in my life is smoldering and crumbling even more, I am still in stasis.

You always think that rude awakenings are supposed to jolt you back into consciousness.  You’re supposed to wake up, and look around, and do something.  But in reality, it disconnects you more.  It is a strange, musical emptiness.  It reminds me of a very dark time; a very empty time.  And, poetically, it draws me back to those moments in the most unpredictably subtle ways.  My life always leads back to this feeling, like a motif.  The strange, icy emptiness, the stoic anguish of solitude.

My time alive has been spent circumventing the feeling that I’m on my way to my own funeral.  The only happiness I ever got out of it was when I was ignorant of the truth, unknowing and blatantly wanton.  The more deliberate I became, the less I had any land around me; I now know that everyone should feel so.  Because it is the only way to see the beauty in life, even if it is chained to the lowest imaginable feelings.  When I was younger, I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t a singular, isolated person by projecting everything I could outward into other people.  Now that I have no inclination or interest to do so, it is all the more apparent that I am unhappy, and apparent that I have no will to correct myself.

In much the same way that paying any attention to politics saddens and outrages you (if you have a real mind), every step I take towards anything leaves me feeling that there is no point in it.  Some of us are so human that it hurts.

The Hell of the Spectator

I guess a lot of people know what it’s like to not make ends meet.  I guess a lot of people know what it’s like to never make ends meet, year after year.  To slowly be piling more and more debt on yourself.  To not have a way to better your situation, even when you genuinely want to.

Citizens, as voters, always are supposed to have a chance to better their surroundings, their society.  Their opportunities.  Yet, so many people are sheep, so many are led and vote against their interest, vote against their own future.  So many are so stupid and misguided that they drag down the genuine and the intelligent; they drag down the hard-working.  I think a lot of people thought that had changed when they elected Obama, but these recent elections show that it’s all bullshit.  The sheep will always outnumber the willing; it’s just that the sheep happened to be led in a positive direction for a split second, two years ago.  That’s all it will ever be.

To say that my hatred for America is stronger than ever is an understatement.  I loathe the people who direct the most powerful and influential country in the world out of their own paranoia, their own selfishness, their own childish views.  They are worth less than nothing, because they actively debase the worth of civilization.  They are a negative factor, not a non-factor.

For every dozen self-aware, compassionate, thoughtful people, there are hundreds of blind, idiotic people who follow whatever the zeitgeist narrative is.  They treat reality like a TV-show, based on political fads and tastes that are engineered by even more narrow-minded, but much more powerful, people.  Because of this, and I mean this with every ounce of its definition… they do not deserve to live.

The sad truth is that their deaths would be positive.  For anyone’s death to be a positive influence is so inane, and so morosely antithetical to life; but, it’s true.