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Another side

Some people believe, having read a few of my entries, that I suffer from some form of superiority complex, and firmly believe I am better than them. In answer to such comments, it's not a complex, and I wouldn't really call being superior 'suffering'. Further, I don't believe I'm better than you. If you can so easilly take offence at opinion, the venting of frustration and the odd pointed finger at the things that passed you while you were snoozing your way through your limited existence, then I'm certainly better than you.

To balance my magnificence, perhaps I should lower my shield for a second and let you see the other side of me? Would you like that?

I'm not all about sneering down at the rest of the world. Far from it. In my 27 or so years, I've been systematically destroyed on an emotional level. I've had my heart cut out from inside me and then tossed back into my face, suffered on a number of occasions from suicidal urges - a desperate and urgent need to end my life before it can get any worse. I've been in therapy for bouts of depression that threatened to harm both myself and those around me.

I've taken sharp objects and cut lines across my skin because at the time it felt like the only decent thing to do. In an insane way, I was trying to cut away at my emotional core, to build up an aegis of scar tissue around my senses so the world couldn't hurt me anymore. The process turned me into a heartless shell of a man. I'm conscious of the detatched and uncaring robot that I've become. It still astonishes me that anyone at all can find anything in me that they like, much less can care for.

But for all I scream into the black void that was once the vibrant heart of a young innnocent, wishing for some of the sensitivity back, I'm only too aware of the bitter self-loathing that creeps in whenever emotion is allowed to flow freely through my veins. It's like burying yourself in a bunker underground to protect yourself from the gaps in the o-zone layer. You spend too much time away from the light, you're so used to not having it there, that it's now painful to have it back. Now it burns if you're exposed to it.

I'll probably never be human on the level that most people experience it, but that's ok. I am what I am.

I am hate. I am the voice of scorn that you never need to physically hear to make you blush when you know you've done something stupid. I'm the raised eyebrow that you refuse to acknowledge simply because it means that you've been wrong all along.

I am despair. I am the slowly maturing knowledge of the insufficiency of human beings as a species to correct the problems we create for ourselves. I am the one sat in the corner on his knees with his head in his hands wishing he could weep for the future we're throwing away.

So you can look across at me with furrowed and upset brows, live in your little bubble of 'everything-will-fall-into-place-land', content in your denial. You can forget you ever read a word and go back to an existence filled with fatuous self-gratifying superfluousness. I'll still be here preaching the truth long after you come back nodding your head and pretending you're hearing it for the first time.

So maybe I am better than you. The question you need to ask is why you should care whether or not I think that, and why it should trouble you so much if I were. Maybe it's time for you to see the world through a fresh pair of eyes.



1 message(s) of denial

fuzzems - 2006-08-03 19:22:34

Life is all but a mystery to me. Denial is something that potential boneheads hide behind when the world goes dark. Peronally, I find your words refreshing as the scars once laid on my heart. I applaud you, with never ending understanding.

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Copyright Insane Bartender 2006-08-03 9:57 p.m.

e-mail me: Insane Bartender