Thursday, December 31, 2015

Bang, Thud, Pop. Happy New Year.

Let's see. 

Wow what's not to see. Glaring mistakes, obvious mishaps, avoidable problems, and all in all, heartbreaking attitude. What else happened, I wonder if you wonder. What else happened in the miserable life of this fat, ugly fuck who writes horrible things about himself on the internet? 

Not much, I'd say, but let me tell you a story. A story about New Year's Day. An unconventional one.

...

My dad has cancer.

These words are dreaded by everyone in the entire fucking planet, no matter your social position, no matter your wealth. Yet these words have been ringing inside my head for the last few weeks, and there's nothing I can do about it. This year has been a fucking disastrous clusterfuck of a shitshow, and this is, I guess, the proverbial cherry on top.

It's raining outside. My hands are on the keyboard that I just bought, typing away whatever the fuck that goes on in my head. I need an outlet. A place where I can pour everything and then just forget about it, at least for a while. Yes, this year has been terrible, and there's nothing more terrible than someone you love having cancer. 

Oh don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine. There are lots of cancer survivors out there who can testify. Your dad is a very strong man, I'm sure. He'll pull through.

Yeah, fuck that.

I didn't say a terrible week, or a terrible month. I said a terrible year. You know what that means? It means the whole fucking year has been absolutely vicious to me. It tore me apart both physically and mentally. This year marks the year where I gave in, where I lost the battle, where I succeeded in failing. This year was the year I lost hope, lost faith, and lost all understanding. This year, I was fucked. Hard.

I'm not going back it seems. I'm stuck here for now. You might say it's okay, I can take care of my dad. Fuck that. My dad is an egotistical motherfucker. He'd rather die than bowing down to others. That's the kind of man he is. That's the kind of man he wants me to be. He doesn't accept failure. Guess what I am? A fucking failure is the answer. You think he wants me near him? You think I want to be near him? You think I want to stay and bear all the fucking burden of being the failure of my father's life? I'm his son. I have an ego as well. He taught me well. Fuck everyone else and suck your ego's dick. 

Maybe he's gonna die. Maybe he'll live. One day he's gonna go anyways. That one day, I have been thinking of all my life. I don't want him seeing me as a failure as he goes. It's one of my biggest fears. Yet here I sit on this terrible chair, a fucking failure, and my dad has cancer.

People around me are beginning to lose hope in me. Some lost hope a long time ago, they're just putting on a charade because it's their duty to give a shit. People around me are starting to lose trust in my bullshit. Some lost trust in me completely long ago, they're just saying shit in hopes I stop saying all these stuff. Maybe a few people still care. Maybe a few. Too few. And these people don't say enough. I don't believe them. Why do people who care don't say enough? Are they stupid? Why do those who don't care say the most?

I'm sitting in front of the screen right now, and I'm getting a strange feeling. I feel like....a spent bullet that missed its target. Yeah, that's kinda accurate.

I was among my peers. I was readied for use. 

Bang. 

I was triggered and went off with a loud, cracking noise. My exterior fell off as I flew.

Thud.

I missed and now I'm stuck in a wall. I leave behind a crack and a small hole.

To get me out, they had to use a pair of pliers or whatever. They had to pull me with force. They grunted. 

Pop.

I came out, battered and different than before.

Now I'm only good as a piece of writing on a ballistics report.

That crack and hole that I left behind? Some would look at it and think, 

"What a waste of a bullet."

"What a shit shooter."

"I'll get that plastered."

"Who's gonna pay for that?"

And such. Yes, that mark will soon be forgotten, and I'll still be just a piece of writing on a ballistics report.

So excuse me when I say fuck this year. I've had a terrible year. Let me be and one day I'll be off not disturbing any of you fucks anymore, or just come kill me and be done with it. Either way's fine. If not, just fuck off.

...

Sad story huh. For everyone who announces to the fucking world how wonderful their year has been and how they're looking forward to the next, there will be some poor bastard who is in the same boat as the dude in the story. We rarely hear from them though, because who wants to hear a bum story from a bum dude? We all want to hear happy stories. That's how fucked up everyone is, and yet they scream for humanity every fucking day.

Fuck 2015. 

Fuck 2016 as well.

And fuck all of you.

Friday, December 18, 2015

Sail

I was bored one day, and I decided to open all my apps in my phone to see what the hell they do. Then I opened Snapchat. Saw some random pictures and videos. Then I came across a picture, it was by a friend, a very dear one. I couldn't make out the picture itself, but it was a soothing darkness with different shades of grey and black. It had the time on it as well, and on it's right corner, slanted about 45 degrees, were the words "sail - awolnation". What the fuck is "sail - awolnation"? I wondered.

I was bored one day, and I decided to boot my Spotify and listen to songs. I opened random playlists and listened to whatever songs that came out. They were bleak and boring so in the end I listened to my own playlists, consisting of the usual stuff; metal, folk, 90s, pop rock, 50s etc etc. I then felt this sudden, sort of like WHOOSH sound in my head and the image from my dear friend's Snapchat Story appeared. sail - awolnation. I looked it up. Of course it was a song, I thought.

Blame it on my ADD, baby

I've been in very dark places. Places where fire can never light up. I've thought of the most horrible thoughts. Thoughts that make me shudder and ashamed of myself. Imagine thinking about things, then being ashamed at yourself for thinking about it. How fucked up is that. No, I'm not talking about pooping yourself in public or killing a cat, I'm talking things that would shame generations. Nevertheless, we all do it sometimes, don't we? Sometimes we just can't control our train of thought. Sometimes it wanders into the darkest of places and brings back with it the king of shames and it's entire kingdom. 

That kind of darkness is not your doing, it's not anyone's doing. Where there's light, there will be dark. We know that. It's how the world works. Hell, it's how Star Wars works. But what if you could create your own darkness, then blame it on something else?

Something like, your ADD? Or maybe...

Your demons?

Thursday, December 17, 2015

Chance

Have you ever had this feeling of hate without any reason? Like you just hate something just because. No solid reason. Maybe you hate something because how the thing is.

Of course, we all have things we hate because they fucking deserve hate. Like ISIS, or more recently Donald Trump. Sometimes we even hate ourselves, and I'm not talking about some emo episode that one time because you listened to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus or All-American Rejects or whatever the fuck. I'm talking about self-loathing that can only be paralleled by, say, your extreme fondness of your cat, or how kids love ice-cream. That kind of self-hate. We've all done it. Some handle it better than others, some kill themselves. That's reality. Reality sucks. 

People often hate because they are afraid. Hate is a defense mechanism. We hate Trump because of how his ideology is endangering Muslims and Mexicans. We are afraid of change, be it good or bad. That's why we hate. Lo and behold, we human beings are so fucked up we use negativity to counter everything. Yes, everything. 

You must've had a friend who you never wanted. They just stick the fuck around. You hate this friend, for whatever fucking reason, maybe he once took your pen and never gave it back, or maybe she fucked your dad, or maybe just because. 

You must have a certain artist you hate. Maybe you hate the appearance of this particular artist, or maybe you just hate the genre. Maybe when you were a kid you saw a cat die and that particular artist was singing in the background, or maybe just fucking because.

Maybe you hate others because you're afraid of what they are gonna do to you once they get close to you. Yeah maybe some asswipe once broke your fragile heart into a million tiny pieces and boo hoo you can't fucking pick up the pieces. 

Maybe you hate yourself because you've disappointed yourself, or others for that matter, too many times and you feel like a worthless piece of fuck. Maybe you feel you're too useless to live and boo hoo no one is picking you up from the ground.

I've had my dad yell at me countless of times because I used the word "hate". I don't see the reason. It's a word. It described my feelings. It's four letters with a very strong meaning. Most of all, it's not a fucking curse word. I didn't understand. I still don't understand. Why can't I use the word hate? I was brought up in a very, very patriarchal family. Dad is boss. That's it. I never questioned. What a fucking mistake it was.

It's okay to hate. It's normal. Don't worry about hating. Whatever you're hating probably deserves it anyway. You can hate literally everything and it would be fine, at least in my books. What's abnormal is not giving these things a chance.

I'm a music junkie. I mostly listen to metal and other hard music, but I enjoy literally all kinds of music. I'm not exaggerating. Yes I used to hate many other genres because they were not metal. I called them sissy music. Pussy music. Girly music. Gay music. I was brought up in a patriarchal family, so please excuse my casual usage of homophobic insults. For the record, I'm not homophobic. Now, how come I love all kinds of music? Because I gave it a chance.

There was this one night I remember. My head was so heavy yet I felt as though I was floating. I was at a friend's place and I remember looking around that dank and stuffy living room. My friends were talking in murmurs. Low pitched, low volume, low enunciation. I couldn't make out anything they were saying. I didn't give a shit though. The TV was on. It was connected to a laptop and Youtube was on. Someone played some random songs.

It was beautiful. I felt happy. I smiled all through the 3 or 4 songs that someone, don't know who, put on. God they were good. I felt euphoric. I felt this carnal cathartic conscience just bursting out of my extremely heavy but floating head. Goosebumps followed. My spine was tingling. I heard less and less from my friends in the room and more and more of the songs that were playing. I closed my eyes and focused on what the lyrics were. They were beyond magnificent. They were love stories.

Then I realised I was listening to Justin Bieber. It was a pleasant surprise. Yeah I was in the bandwagon of hatred towards the Canadian cunt-wrecker. I listened to Baby back in the day and I was so appalled by it. This was when I hated all other music because they were not metal. I snapped out of my little epiphany and continued to browse other songs similar to What Do You Mean. Sorry was next, then I had some Ariana Grande, then some Nicki Minaj, then more and more pop music. I started to continuously nod my head according to the tempo. I like these songs, I thought. What the fuck.

Eventually the power of the majority overcame my plethora of euphoria. My mates wanted to watch some fucking movie. Can't remember what. That means it wasn't significant enough to overcome my sudden fondness of pop music. Like what the actual fuck I liked Justin Bieber. For the first time in my entire life I liked him. Why? I gave him a chance.

You hate someone? Give them a chance. Two chances. Three. Whatever. Maybe some people are an acquired taste. I have friends who are so stupid people usually stay away from them. Nevertheless, I gave them a chance and I found out I like these crazy mother fuckers. A loved one shattered your precious little red, beating heart? Give them a chance, at least for a fucking explanation. You hate yourself? You wanna kill yourself? You wanna end it all? Give life another chance. 

You were a result of chance, and there are people who will fucking dive into a pool of acid just so you would move the fuck along in life. These people gave you a chance. Use it.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Maybe fuck you

It's that time of the year again. People are leaving. Goodbyes are being thrown out, obligations to make time for those who are heading off etc etc.

I've never been so good with goodbyes. I feel that goodbyes are unnecessary. Why the fuck would you bid someone adieu anyway? Maybe if they are dying you should, but other than that I don't see the fucking point.

But hey, you wanna say goodbye to someone? Go ahead. I won't say anything. I don't agree with it, but I don't give two shits about what you do.

Maybe someday I'll change. We all do. Maybe someday I'll meet someone who truly deserves my goodbye, someone I will truly miss when he/she leaves. We never know with these things. Maybe I'll stop listening to metal because someone shows me another kind of music that resonates with me better. Maybe I'll start working out and shed a few kilos off my ass. Maybe I'll stop fucking up my life because someone is worth not fucking anything up.

Life is full of maybes, so don't you say "we say goodbye because it's set in stone that we wish it to someone who is leaving" because MAYBE that person isn't really leaving, or MAYBE I just don't give a fuck. I like the latter reason a bit more.

I'm sure it's nice that people put an effort to please you in your last few days somewhere. I've never felt anything like it so maybe I'm just bitter. Then again, why the fuck would people make an effort in your last few days when they never gave a fuck before? 

"Oh he's still here next year fuck him I'll hang with him later."

Maybe if people stop doing this shit we won't be having World Wars.