July 2, 2011

Hateful Self-Loathing

[...Posted by Ted H]

a.k.a.: fun with a thesaurus

Just a short stand alone rant. Imagine if you will a psychotic nutjob screaming at himself in the mirror. I like to think that I could use this in something down the line, where some insane antagonist explains himself, exposing his apparent lunacy while he does something equally insane with his hands. Kinda like if the Joker took a bunch of barbituates and nailgunned his hand to a desk.
Or a split personality person....so make it Two-Face nailing his hand to a desk instead...the only question being: Which hand would he nail?

16 weeks and counting where I manage to keep this update schedule...go figure.

I got a few ideas over what to do next, but Ive been working non stop and had few opprotunities to actually write anything down. Maybe Ill get something out next week.

The reason is rather simple, really. You want to know why I’ve done everything that I’ve done up to this point? Why I’ve made a series of inexplicable, irrational and downright questionable decisions that have affected my life in a detrimental and negative fashion? It’s really simple if you look at it from my perspective, because while you can’t find a rational and intelligent reason for my actions, all I see is a clear and direct line of reasoning: I fucking hate myself.

I do. I despise me. I detest me. I hate what I’ve been, I hate what I’m becoming, and most of all, I hate what I am. If I were to ever meet myself in the street I would beat him within an inch of his life, then try and take it two inches further. I would hurt that man and gladly accept whatever punishment was handed. I hate myself with such a passion that I can barely form it into words without having to strangle something.

I try to punish this man, cause him pain and ruin his life, but it just doesn’t work. He still breathes, he still carries on, and he still has conscious thought. I’ve driven him to the brink of insanity and pushed with all my might, but he still remains. Taunting, vile, inexcusable. The mere thought of myself breeds hateful thoughts and bile forces itself out of my mouth. I hate this man, but there’s nothing I can do.

There is no superego. There is no redemption, nor is there any desire for it. I am merely and id and an ego. The id is a dark, disturbed being. It is sloth and avarice personified. The ego is miserable, because there is no compromise to be made. It is only resentment. Only hatred. Only rage.

I’ve long ago given up on redemption. My reason for being is to punish this man, myself. I will torture him, deny him pleasure and stress him until he breaks. And when he does, I will hate myself even more, because there is no other option. This linear spiral, the endless waltz of suffering has but one ending. The only thing that varies is how fast my decent into madness will be.

I am not blind to you. I never ignore a word and I am anything but ignorant to your passes. I love you, dammit. But to be with you would to give him happiness. And I only exist to deny him pleasure because his existence causes me so much suffering. And to subject you to my suffering would only amplify it even more. But to see you move on and ignore me causes the same agony, because it reminds me why we are not one, and I resent what I am all the more for it.

I can not kill him, because there would be no closure in death, just an abrupt end in which only I suffer. There would be no peace in death. I must, I will, drive him into insanity, and when I do, I will hate myself even more. Because when I see this pathetic being in the mirror, I realize that it is me. And for all the mental anguish I have suffered, it has been self inflicted. And I hate myself all the more for it.

I hate what I was.

I hate what I’m becoming.

And most of all, I hate what I am.

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