Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

Persistent, consistent, hopefully cognizant redefinition.

I hate these thoughts– the thoughts that keep me up at night; the same thoughts that wake me up in the morning. When I’m angry, I’m angry at myself. I punch walls when I’m angry at myself. This isn’t a release of anger, I realize, this is a low dosage of self-implemented pain. I get so angry at myself that if it were another person I was this angry at I’d want to harm them severely. But self-harm is unacceptable. But this anger is so great that I punch a wall. I punch a wall and focus my attention on the sharply retorting tendons overlapping my knuckles. *** I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I hate myself– however I don’t exactly like myself. I resent myself. I resent the decisions I make. I resent the fact that I use the guilt gained from the decision to feel sorry for myself. No, I don’t feel sorry for myself. Rather, I resent myself. *** I’ve found my own mind to be one of such skeptical standards that day in and day out I’m merely searching for something I can with resounding faith deem real. I wouldn’t suggest such a mind set to even my greatest foes. For the results of this search are for the most part unyielding with exception to laborious desperation, mistrust in everyone, and an unwavering self-resentment. *** I constantly view my fellow humans with misanthropic connotation. The kind of opinionated generalizations I detest. I detest people without morals, with misplaced morals, who disrespect woman, who disrespect men, who disrespect people who deserve respect, who make stupid decisions and then wallow in their fucking self-pity later on. *** I’ve spent so much of my life searching for something real. I’ve assimilated to countless environments in my search. I have told countless lies in order to gain trust and learn more of the people whom inhabit these environments. I have taken such a zealous cut-throat approach to discovering my reality that I have in doing so become a god damned fraud. I’ve become one of the people I detest. I’ve become someone to resent. *** There is a girl. When this girl speaks, when this girl looks me in the eyes– it feels real. When we are near– it feels real. She appears to exist as an obtainable reality to my skeptical mind. I view this as an enigma. For I know that she has lied to me. I know shes not fully honest. She never even really says what shes thinking about. But then again– neither do I. My skeptical mind has found some common ground to walk on. I believe that either I am real, and she is real; or she, in her search for reality, has become a god damned fraud as well. Which, for a fake, is a reality easily embraced. In either respect, I believe I love her. That is, if love exists. ***

“Mistakes you have made, son.. are merely that; mistakes. You redefine who you are every single moment of your life.”

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2 Comments on “Persistent, consistent, hopefully cognizant redefinition.”

  1. tim says:

    resoundingly resonant, ridiculously resplendent.

    you, writer, have spoken to my soul.

  2. Well, Tim, the feeling is mutual.

    For you see, alliteration rather tickles my fancy.


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