Anger *Revised
My first kiss was in College and the last kiss I experienced was in college. I've only actually made out with one girl, and I was too drunk to even remember what she looked like. I fear kissing a person. The fear comes from my not having practice, the fear that I'm 25 and the number of kisses can be counted on the hand of a fry cook who had an industrial accident and loss a couple finger. I fear that the time may never come, or I may make my move too fast. It's not that I'm some John Hues character or in this case an aged John Hues character. I'm not some hopeless romantic. No those characters have dreams of kissing, good dreams. I have nightmares. I fear kissing because it leads to other things.
Sex is another thing that I've been missing out on. I want it my body wants it, but I'm so gun shy that I don't think I could do it. I'm not afraid of loosing my virginity, no I'm rather afraid of touching some one, no I'm afraid of them touching me. It terrifies me that some one will some day touch this pile of flesh. My self image is that of a anorexic model only I don't have the guts to puke up my lunch.
My sexual anxiety led me to drink and drink and drink until I was in a stupor that numbed the bodies yearning. It yearns to touch some one else but my ego refuses to budge. I can't I wont. Pride dictates too much of my life. I hate it. I hate it so much tears come to my eyes. If pride was a tangible part of my body I would claw at it and pick at it until it was removed from my body. I would burn it in a fire and coldly stare it down. I would not miss that part, I would not allow myself a phantom pride to replace it. I would let it go for ever.
Fear, ego, and pride are diseases that need treatment. They have gone untreated for so long that they are now a malignant cancer on my soul. It makes me hate myself. I hate myself so much that I'm killing myself slowly with food and drink. My liver is probably working overtime without holiday pay.
This must be what it feels like to be a monster. Wanting what you cannot, striving for something that you will never allow yourself. I had a dream last night that seemed real. I want to remove that dream from my memory. The woman kissed me. I believed, I actually believed that woman wanted me. That's the problem about dreams the women always want you. The women always does what you want her to do. She never asks she takes. This woman took something from me last night she took my comfort. She took my rational thought. She showed me how lonely I am, she showed me the hypocrisy inherent in myself. Then I woke up. Pain. Pain was all that I could feel this morning.
I should just lock myself in my room. Never let myself out, never see the sun. Block my view from the TV, all it shows are things that I can't have. Maybe I can pray, pray that I don't have those dreams anymore. The dream's of women who are prefect, they are prefect because they want me. They don't want my money, my looks. No, they want me, the person, their author.
I don't even deserve these women, the ones in my dreams. I'm a bastard, an asshole who should never interact with society. Keep me locked up, keep my away from your pets and children people. I'm the boogie man, I will give them nightmares. Hideous in its entire splendor.
My emotions are in a turmoil that even the most weather person couldn't handle. I survive everyday in this storm. I tire of it, but that is my life that is my lot in life. The brain is just nothing but chemicals and mine are out of balance. Things that make people happy just make me cry. They make me sick. I hate the world. Physicality is absurdity to me!
I still think about that dream, I think about a lot of my dreams. She wasn't the first one to kiss me in my dreams. No there had been others, she just happens to be the freshest. Every time I dream about a woman I get like this. The woman is just a reflection of how empty my life is. If I could I'd bang my head on this fucking desk. Let home row engrain into my skull until there is nothing more then a bloody stump that is my neck. Leave me alone god damn it. I know I am a bad person. I don't deserve one second of happiness even if it was in my dream.
Hell is with out hope I say hell is with hope but never the ability to realize it. Without hope I wouldn't be tempted to reach for that apple. Tear it out, tear out this hope that is plaguing me so much. Give me a knife and a flame. I need to sterilize it. I'm already infected and I don't need to further it.
I'm not happy, it's apparent but I don't let it get me down. Each key stroke alleviates my guilt my anger my fear. To eliminate it would require a life time, a life time of missed opportunity. A lifetime filled with dreams. Dreams filled with what could have been or what should have been. This is no one's fault but my own. Let me go self indulge in my pain. It's the trendy thing to do.
My first kiss was in College and the last kiss I experienced was in college. I've only actually made out with one girl, and I was too drunk to even remember what she looked like. I fear kissing a person. The fear comes from my not having practice, the fear that I'm 25 and the number of kisses can be counted on the hand of a fry cook who had an industrial accident and loss a couple finger. I fear that the time may never come, or I may make my move too fast. It's not that I'm some John Hues character or in this case an aged John Hues character. I'm not some hopeless romantic. No those characters have dreams of kissing, good dreams. I have nightmares. I fear kissing because it leads to other things.
Sex is another thing that I've been missing out on. I want it my body wants it, but I'm so gun shy that I don't think I could do it. I'm not afraid of loosing my virginity, no I'm rather afraid of touching some one, no I'm afraid of them touching me. It terrifies me that some one will some day touch this pile of flesh. My self image is that of a anorexic model only I don't have the guts to puke up my lunch.
My sexual anxiety led me to drink and drink and drink until I was in a stupor that numbed the bodies yearning. It yearns to touch some one else but my ego refuses to budge. I can't I wont. Pride dictates too much of my life. I hate it. I hate it so much tears come to my eyes. If pride was a tangible part of my body I would claw at it and pick at it until it was removed from my body. I would burn it in a fire and coldly stare it down. I would not miss that part, I would not allow myself a phantom pride to replace it. I would let it go for ever.
Fear, ego, and pride are diseases that need treatment. They have gone untreated for so long that they are now a malignant cancer on my soul. It makes me hate myself. I hate myself so much that I'm killing myself slowly with food and drink. My liver is probably working overtime without holiday pay.
This must be what it feels like to be a monster. Wanting what you cannot, striving for something that you will never allow yourself. I had a dream last night that seemed real. I want to remove that dream from my memory. The woman kissed me. I believed, I actually believed that woman wanted me. That's the problem about dreams the women always want you. The women always does what you want her to do. She never asks she takes. This woman took something from me last night she took my comfort. She took my rational thought. She showed me how lonely I am, she showed me the hypocrisy inherent in myself. Then I woke up. Pain. Pain was all that I could feel this morning.
I should just lock myself in my room. Never let myself out, never see the sun. Block my view from the TV, all it shows are things that I can't have. Maybe I can pray, pray that I don't have those dreams anymore. The dream's of women who are prefect, they are prefect because they want me. They don't want my money, my looks. No, they want me, the person, their author.
I don't even deserve these women, the ones in my dreams. I'm a bastard, an asshole who should never interact with society. Keep me locked up, keep my away from your pets and children people. I'm the boogie man, I will give them nightmares. Hideous in its entire splendor.
My emotions are in a turmoil that even the most weather person couldn't handle. I survive everyday in this storm. I tire of it, but that is my life that is my lot in life. The brain is just nothing but chemicals and mine are out of balance. Things that make people happy just make me cry. They make me sick. I hate the world. Physicality is absurdity to me!
I still think about that dream, I think about a lot of my dreams. She wasn't the first one to kiss me in my dreams. No there had been others, she just happens to be the freshest. Every time I dream about a woman I get like this. The woman is just a reflection of how empty my life is. If I could I'd bang my head on this fucking desk. Let home row engrain into my skull until there is nothing more then a bloody stump that is my neck. Leave me alone god damn it. I know I am a bad person. I don't deserve one second of happiness even if it was in my dream.
Hell is with out hope I say hell is with hope but never the ability to realize it. Without hope I wouldn't be tempted to reach for that apple. Tear it out, tear out this hope that is plaguing me so much. Give me a knife and a flame. I need to sterilize it. I'm already infected and I don't need to further it.
I'm not happy, it's apparent but I don't let it get me down. Each key stroke alleviates my guilt my anger my fear. To eliminate it would require a life time, a life time of missed opportunity. A lifetime filled with dreams. Dreams filled with what could have been or what should have been. This is no one's fault but my own. Let me go self indulge in my pain. It's the trendy thing to do.