Often we struggle and there is no indication of progress, no pat on the back. So we get discouraged. Perhaps it's easier to imagine that we have been defeated, more comforting to hate ourselves, to indulge in misplaced self-loathing. Useless, useless fury. It takes such little effort.
Sometimes it's easier to say "we" than "I", isn't it?
It's a rare moment when I am filled with contentment, when I feel deserving of the many blessings bestowed upon me. It's probably better that way. I feed off my own unhappiness like mosquitoes on a quadraplegic, drinking deep from that foul spring until it courses through my entire body. Most of the time, I can bend that negative energy to my own purposes, perhaps using it in a positive manner. Sometimes, it stays in me. That's just the way it goes.
Most of my good friends probably consider me one of the strongest-willed, most capable people they know. I don't feel that way right now. But I'll bet you that later tonight, I'll feel like I'm king of the world again.
Sometimes, this whole attitude of constant learning that I've adopted--well, it gets old. It's as if I am preparing myself continuously for an event that will never happen. I want something on which to focus my abilities--but don't I have that already? Such terrible impatience. Want to burn. To blaze. To temper this form, or break it on the wheel and let it merge with dust.
Satisfaction. So elusive. It happens when you least expect it. Crystallized on your knuckles as fifteen hundred years of devotion and wisdom flow through you and into your opponent's chin. Reflected in your true love's eyes as she gazes adoringly at you. Echoed in the syncopation of an almost perfectly placed beat. And, perversely, sometimes writ between lines of suffering and anguish.
Oh boo fucking hoo...
I guess I feel better now.
bye bye
Sometimes it's easier to say "we" than "I", isn't it?
It's a rare moment when I am filled with contentment, when I feel deserving of the many blessings bestowed upon me. It's probably better that way. I feed off my own unhappiness like mosquitoes on a quadraplegic, drinking deep from that foul spring until it courses through my entire body. Most of the time, I can bend that negative energy to my own purposes, perhaps using it in a positive manner. Sometimes, it stays in me. That's just the way it goes.
Most of my good friends probably consider me one of the strongest-willed, most capable people they know. I don't feel that way right now. But I'll bet you that later tonight, I'll feel like I'm king of the world again.
Sometimes, this whole attitude of constant learning that I've adopted--well, it gets old. It's as if I am preparing myself continuously for an event that will never happen. I want something on which to focus my abilities--but don't I have that already? Such terrible impatience. Want to burn. To blaze. To temper this form, or break it on the wheel and let it merge with dust.
Satisfaction. So elusive. It happens when you least expect it. Crystallized on your knuckles as fifteen hundred years of devotion and wisdom flow through you and into your opponent's chin. Reflected in your true love's eyes as she gazes adoringly at you. Echoed in the syncopation of an almost perfectly placed beat. And, perversely, sometimes writ between lines of suffering and anguish.
Oh boo fucking hoo...
I guess I feel better now.
bye bye