Psychic Misery

I tried to reach out to him, but he drifted even further beyond my reach. That is not to say that he doesn't care. BUt fuck, can't you understand something as simple as...I DON'T WANT IT? Is that all there is to you? Are you that shallow? I tried exploding today, I tried being nice, I tried to play that monstrous creation lurking in the corner. All I've accomplished so far is an increase in blood pressure and a sudden urge to throw things around. I promised myself I'd stay faaaar away from alcohol, and I can't remember the last time I got piss drunk. Oh, wait. I do. It was that time I spoke to all of them and passed out for a couple of hours. But today it's just getting to me. It hasn't rained all day, but there is a heaviness to the air, some intangible pressure that threatens to squeeze the remaining life out of me. Oh, fuck it all. I deserve a drink. Or two. First thing everyone ought to know about me. Never call the house phone. I won't pick up except on rare occasions. Blue bloody moon and all that You wanna contact me, you do it through my cell. Leave a message, or just call the bloody number. 90554732. There. I hope that helps you brainless automatons who keep calling my house phone. I WON'T PICK UP. Good grief. APES are more intelligent. THis phone is annoying. I just want to rip it out and smash it to bits. You MEN are annoying. All the alphabets right down to Z. Ok, fine. So maybe I indulged ina little drink. But it only soured my mood even more. Where's the happy? I won't do it. I won't talk to you because I quit. I gave up, yeah. SO fuck that, and fuck you. You wouldn't understand anyway, you're so entrenched in your work. I get that it's Monday. Wait. Tuesday? It's tuesday. Right. So you're busy, with stuff. A text message only takes so long to type out, you IDIOT! Stop calling because I don't want to talk to anyone. Especially to all you men who I know are only after one thing. It's been a long time snice I got angry enough to be in a throw-objects-around rage. I want to stand on the top of the tallest mountain and scream and scream and cause an avalanche that will bury all these stupid problems six feet under. Maybe more. I tried driving people away today. I can hear the alcohol singing out to me. The darkness irritates me, every sound makes me want to scream. I feel like getting a chair and slamming it against my ceiling. The neighbours are so fucking annoying! SHut UP! Everyone is annoying me. Stupid fucks. They're still banging around up there. What, are they moving a grand piano around? My eyes are growing redder and redder. Maybe it's the alcohol. Akerhol. I've moved my pawns, and now all I can do is wait for the opponent's move. Bring it on. I waited two years for this. Two whole years of silence, and heartache. I just want to vanish. Just...clsoe my eyes and be forever at peace. Stupid world. Can't even have one ONE moment of silence without the stupid phone ringing (DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING LOUD THAT PHONE IS!?) or my idiotic neighbours banging around up there or an SMS from some insipid airhead looking for a mindblowing orgasm. I bet it's my aunt who called. I refuse to talk to her. Or anyone else for that matter. It hasn't even rained. Stupid weather. STUPID WORLD. Why is everyone so preoccupied with hiding the truth from me? For fuck's sake. Ugh. I dont care anymore. If there's a firestorm, I'll just retreat somewhere. Fear flees before the heat of anger. ANd I'm throwing that monstrous invention away tomorrow, even if it means I've secured my own death warrant. It means nothing to me anymore, and I hate seeing what it represents. Some dreams were never meant to be realised. And you stupid fucktard had me waiting for two bloody years, you MORON. I'm always waiting and waiting and waiting. For those who've died, for those who are dying, for those who've left, for those who are leaving. FOR THINGS TO BE RETURNED TO ME. Well, fuck that. I'm tired of waiting, of being the nice lil bunny, the lost puppy who people pick up and play with until they grow bored. Ok. The alcohol isn't working. The sex obviously didn't work. YES you stupid fucktard. I'm not sleeping with you again. Urgh. I tried to get angry with all the wrong people and only succeeded in amking myself miserable-r. More miserable. Whatever. Fuck this situation. Theme song of my life. Oh, hello migraine.I was wondering where you'd gone off to.