Cute Rage Monster
I have been told by some that I am a decent person, even humorous at times. However, I don't believe a goddamn thing people tell me. If I were a person who enjoyed or even benefited from positive feedback or compliments I would be decent, I might even respect myself. However, I am not. I am my own inner thoughts and rage. The kind of person who grabs ahold of my own feet, trusses myself in the air and scrapes away until I reach marrow. My daily routine involves arranging selfies and stories in a way that makes self-deprecation look cute, God forbid I don't look cute. Because while I hate compliments and don't find them genuine, I need constant attention from others to curb loneliness and belong to a society. A society of people just trying to be seen for who they are… neurotic freaks who hate most of the vulnerable, real and emotional qualities they see in themselves. Is it you? Is it all of us? Or just me?
You can tell me it's just me. I won't give a shit either way…. I still gotta live with this persona, she is NOT the greatest.
I live a quiet, fairly sinless life; pay my bills, don't rob others, take care of family, rarely lie and say nice things. It's all above board. But I suffer internally with drama and tyranny of the mind. Thoughts haunt my existence and leave me feeling like a deeply conflicted individual… quite literally 24/7. Here are a few, very few, examples of vile thoughts which float around my mindspace and are in reality my constant, persistent old friends:
The abhorrence I feel towards some dangerous non-fictional men (and some women) in politics and how I would very much like to gut and/or castrate them in my mind is pretty grim.
I like wearing pink. I despise filling societal gender roles and even more so… I detest men who treat me like an idiot.
I fluctuate from A: hating this bag of skin I wear; soft, flabby and weird, with its years of stress and hardship wearing me down. To B: loving my ~curves~ and seeing generations of beautiful similarities between me and other women in my ancestry.
The screwing I get is NOT worth the screwing I get. Why is dating so hard in your thirties? I’m up against time and gravity?! The two most powerful forces in the universe? maaaaan fuck this.
I am repulsed with the world that only gives us room to value life in a “beautiful” cough small cough body and profits off of our insecurities and am equally disgusted with my rampant consumerism and obsession with looking beautiful and small.
I love younger adults but I resent the reality that I cannot go back and do it again, I don't have what they have, can they understand that? Can I understand that?
I really do care a lot about people in pain. It's probably because I'm empathetic and emotionally ‘woke’ yet despite this fact, I eviscerate myself when I am in pain. I dig and I burrow and find ways to spiral into complete carelessness and masochism.
Is this all a cry for pity? FUCK NO… I will fall apart if I think you are pitying me and not valuing my written words as complete thoughts from a strong independent woman. This is simply an opportunity for me explain that decent people, some who are even funny at times, can live in their minds and experience dark, invasive, murderous, indulgent, wretched and what I like to call “artistic” thoughts. I beat myself up for not writing in this blog more often. It's supposed to be fun and funny and just a way for me to express myself fully because I don't usually in everyday life. And while I have sauntered in the space of silliness in the past, lately, I have felt like a bum and here I am to deliver another bummy message, one which I will cringe at and punish myself for many days to come. But, it's either this or not at all…
To cringe or not to cringe
