2007-06-18 - 6:06 p.m.
Jack Feels Like Giving Up
I feel like giving up.
Laying down and just letting the world happen.
You win.
I lose.
Just fuck it.
Fuck everything.
Fuck you.
Fuck me.
Fuck the world.
Maybe everything I ever valued or really believed in is wrong.
Anything that ever really mattered to me, means absolutely nothing.
It is something I should be ashamed and cured of.
It is something they like to pretend is a "chemical imbalance".
Something in your brain just is not right.
This coming from someone with a pet neurosis of their own. Only theirs is on a leash made of candy colored pills, strung together with stripped down neurons and deadened pain receptors. Strength is putting a choke hold on yourself and being convinced you could never breathe easier in your life.
I wanted to ask, if life is so wonderful why are you on medication. But I am just not that much of an asshole. There was no way I could have asked and not come across as being ingrateful and horrible. And just maybe, right.
It would be like trying to tell a drunk they are drunk.
So, my sage has a hole in her.
She is only human.
That is part of human nature.
Who is not moth eaten and falling apart in one way or another?
Still, I can not help but think she has spent a little too much time in Candyland to even understand what I am saying. Just like I have been spending too much time in my own head to compromise myself long enough to listen and not feel defensive when someone does not understand or even hear what I am saying. When I do not feel heard I make myself louder and louder. I will make my point. You will understand. Right now that could be potentially dangerous. Words are just not enough.
I told her to watch Fight Club. Because apparently I can not even begin to convey everything that it could tell her about me. Not in the length of one therapy session anyway. Nothing I have told her about myself has been any real help. Other than indulging me, making me feel valid and interesting. I can admit it, I like to hear myself talk. I like to feel important.
But just because someone is listening does not mean they hear you.
Maybe Tyler is right.
Maybe self improvement is masturbation.
Lately it has not even been getting me off anymore.
Maybe self destruction is the answer.
Tyler does not feel sorry for me.
He does not approve of my jar of Viagra for the mind. Even though I have not taken it yet. I needed a few days to get used to the idea of chemical subjugation. I needed a some time to rage and mourn and feel sorry for myself.
Condolences on the loss of the control over your own mind. Your mutiny against yourself was a tragic loss to us all.
I am mentally incontinent.
Tyler thinks this mutiny is one of the greatest things that I have ever done. Even if no one is taking me seriously yet. They will. Wait. This is just starting to get good. You are just warming up. They are right, you are capable of so much. Criminally intelligent. Just not in the way they all think you are. Not in the way they want you to be. But this is not about what they want. This is about you now.
Tyler, I had a psychotic break.
And still he thinks this is brilliant. This is me evolving, devolving. This is me becoming.
Nothing worthwhile is achieved without pain.
Even my therapist knows that.
But I am afraid.
I can not take the pain that is unsuccessfully trying to set me free.
Why can't it see that it is only punishing me?
No one else cares if I hurt.
The institution of work is inescapable.
Regardless of mental or physical condition, I am trapped until I die.
Unless somehow I get lucky.
But no one is going to help me because supposedly I am so intelligent and useful. I can be pimped out for $6-9 an hour.
This is supposed to make me feel good about myself. Not cheap and miserable. Like I have a used condom stuck up my ass.
You are capable. Congratulations. Liars.
If a psychotic break can not save me what can?
If this is not a valid enough point, what is?
Tyler says keep trying.
My therapist says keep trying.
Neither of them will back down.
And we have come full circle.
Back to the part about me wanting to lay down and just let life happen to me.
Just giving up on myself.
Giving up on everything.
Why am I even trying to save myself?
Am I even trying?
I wonder if I even really care enough about myself, to truly want to get well.
What would I get from fixing myself?
Freedom from the very pain that is working so hard to free me.
Pain that I have every right to feel.
Pain that is a little more than I can take.
Pain that I have been told I am inflicting on myself.
But that is not much different than saying a gun never killed anyone.
No one can understand that I would not have to chew off my own fucking leg if I was not trapped. They suggest stepping into a trap with my other foot and then taking morphine for the pain.
It's Only After You've Lost Everything... - 2008-03-12
Jack Is Afraid Of Losing Everything - 2008-03-10
Jack Does Not Know What He Is Living For - 2008-03-07
Jack's Festering Apathy - 2008-03-07
