If you are lucky enough to suffer from depression, or bouts thereof, unlike most of the happy-go-lucky shithawks you meet on a daily basis, you may find yourself asking this question -- 'How am I going to stop myself killing myself?' Then you pause, laugh it off -- 'Haha. I am so god damn melodramatic. Things aren't that bad.' But the truth is, my love, they fucking are. And it's because of people. Until the end of time, people are the ruiners of your life. People are idiots. Not just in a Dan Ashcroft 'Rise of the Idiots' way, but with crippling, unforgiveable desperation, throughout the entirety of life, forever.
Uncle Buk once said... "It's not the large tragedies that moil us to pieces - we are fucking well ready for those. It's the little scratchings and drippings...these things again and again, the similar small biting donnybrook continuous hail...these tear us to the final pieces. ah ha." ...But poets always kill themselves, as a rule, so don't fret too much. People are the reason for these small, gay things in life that tear us to shit. Misanthropy is where it's at. Get juiced on it. Embrace the hatred of your fellow man.
The day you realise that everyone around you is a shaking ball of insecurity, and/or a walking coma patient of retardation, can be quite a liberating one. Once you know that everyone is a zombie, you can say and do what you like, all the fucking time. Hey mum/dad! You're a right-wing retard! You've wasted your life except for making me! Hey (insert ex gf/bf name)! You're fat! And you've been getting increasingly fat since we split up and everyone knows! Hey, everyone from high school! You're all on the verge of disease, and despite what you thought when you were 16, you will never EVER be successful in any way! Phew. Man, is that ever liberating.
It doesn't stop there. The more you hate basically everyone, the funner and more useful it becomes. If you're in a band, stage-nerves disappear completely, because everyone in the audience is a cunt. If you're at university, you realise that your tutors all fit neatly into brackets of [old, caved-face feminist] or [type-a personality malfunction] or [compulsively ironic] or simply [douche master]. In the workplace, the scale is simple -- most cunt = manager, least cunt = you. But the best thing about hating everyone, is that sometimes, if you're lucky, someone will slip through your hate-sea, and you will love them, with epic swathes of love, forever.
S
1 comment:
very good. but this didn't stop me from killing myself. I'm a ghost now.
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