The mundane routine of my life is killing me.
Slowly.
Sitting on the bus, staring at the rainy scenery of a stormy Wednesday morning gave me a sense of prejudiced contempt for my life. Prejudiced because i know it's unfounded, yet my heart rages to hurl rocks at whatever sanity i have left. Rocks so hard that sometimes i have to clench my fist and close my eyes tight to summon every ounce of will within me, to try and forget those images, those memories that haunt me still. Opening my eyes again, i see that awful reflection of a loathed enemy and my very first instinct was to bang my head on that glass, emergency exit or not.
A tirade of voices, a slew of insults, rambling through my mind like an unstoppable train intent on destroying anything along its path. Pushing back logic and reason, letting rage and delirium take over. For that single minute in that bus on that stormy Wednesday morning i went insane.
Sometimes things leave and imprint on your mind so scarred that no matter what you can't forget them. Sometimes they leave you alone, but the hurt and pain you feel whenever they surface just drags you down a deep abyss of self-hatred. I hate myself for the things i've done, the things i didn't do, the times when i cowered when i should've just threw myself against the rocks. The god-awful sense of regret. That god-awful sense of regret. No amount of pounded fists on walls, no amount of broken knuckles and all, bruises, swelling, anguish, tears can push away the infallible images burnt so freshly onto my mind. Still smouldering, slowly churning every cell into a single flake of ash.
Everyday i live a life of silent agony, taken no notice of anything else already. It's like watching a slow motion film from a third person perspective, a film so rehearsed you can even mumble the lines to yourself as you watch him fumble through his day, so predictable you know what he'll do next. Then i watch the ceiling as i laid on my bed in the darkness, the soft glow of cheap luminous stars fading out, just like snuffing out the inconspicuous life of another cheap human being, wondering what the hell am i doing. The knowledge that the world still turns without you defeats any purpose of living. The question remains unanswered: If we were all born to die, then what's the point of living?
They say to remember all the praises you've got, and forget all the insults you recieved. And yet the ratio of the latter to the former is so astronomical that it seems like mere hope, mere false hope.. And to place faith onto something so ridiculously insignificant... its sheer stupidity, or lunacy, either one comes first. The falsity of every face, knowing that behind every mask lies another torrent of lies and deceit forces me to buckle to my knees. Alone in a world that doesn't love, that doesn't know, that doesn't give a fucking damn, yet trapped in a sea of entities that cringe with every contact you make. Is this our fucking destiny?
Wracked with a tiresome body, every breath breathed is stale, every breathed breath is agony. Society is pushing this generation to the edge of the cliff of animosity and apathy. A pragmatic approach to spawn hordes of monsters hidden behind whatever deceptive barriers they can ever find, and yet, as i speak this, i realised the fact that i am a monster myself. Looking into the mirror, all i see is a monstrosity, a lump of body fats that probably should just throw himself into toxic waste and dissolve his sorry life away. And no one would even be bothered. The memories of others once there now gone so quickly faded it's ghastly.
And yet? The memories of my life so etched into my shattered soul forever lies incandescent. Such a parody, the person myself knew as, i want forgotten remains remembered, the person i want to be remembered as, will be forgotten in an instant. This is the somber reality of life.
And it only ends with the acquiescence of death.
The grief and apprehension, is the realization that this is all for the best. The journey needs no completion, for the eventuality is the same. What begets from it all is the time of adversity and ordeal one has to live through to reach the same conclusion.
The mundane routine of my life is killing me.
Please...
Please...
Do it quickly.