Blank

Guilt is a virus-. Of all the flesh rotting creatures that can infest bodies or the crippling miscommunications that can destroy your brain, guilt terrifies me.

I feel responsible and guilty of not being able to be good enough.

And that goes beyond, any success, or solution to problems, or ability to make things that i might or might not have. My father threatens mw with suicide attempts. He makes my mother more ill than she should be.

None of the two things are really a part of the point im trying to make. I'm just realizing that my existence is affected by people, it shpould not be affected from. And the ways in which they manipulate the holes i have left in my personality while trying to become an adult, or even a person.

I am not good. I have never been. I made confued choices and now i am not able to make things right. And i feel guilty for not being a better person.

I feel like i should be more indifferent, so that i could focus my energies on other issues and be there for the ones who really need me.

I have deceived them, giving them the idea that i am a good person, ablke to support and string. But i crumble. And no, it isnt something that happens cause we are humans. We do not have the right to be humans. We are supposed to be better, to outgrow our humanity. The good ones do. Good parents, good lovers, good friends. They get over their humanity and flaws and are able to improve other's life, insted of losing their strength of the obstacles.

Good people give and rebuild their strength at each fall so they could give again. A good person does not say "i'm sorry this is a bad day", cause their only reason to be, is providing comfort and strength for their loved ones. And if they fail at that, they do not get excuses.

I fail constantly and seeing people believing in me, hurts even more.

I am not able to support the one si love., cause i let evil suck the life out of me. And if it aint evil, i still am not able to do good for them either.

Mine is the worst type of evil: i am not good, i am not bad. I am inconsequential. I do not do. My actions are thepretical. My positivity is in words that disappear and leave no trace. I am a series of sentences with no actions. I am promises that get not fulfilled.

Done. You can go read something else.

Resistence

Woke up for the twentieth morning in a rown with a cloud in my brain. And each day it takes different cotton-like shape. It feels and tastes like sour milk and cigarette smoke. Often it has the aftertaste odf the couple of cigarettes that i might have ended up smoking the night before, lonely and pponderous ayt an icy temperature on a balcony covered with remains of dirty, mud like snow.

It's an addiction as it has hardly been before, it was more innocent back then. Yes, i drank like a sucidal person and with that came packs and packs of swiftly shaped venom. But there was a purpose behind that. Maybe standing outside with other addicts like you, rambling about pointless topic, heòlped by the noble power alcohol has to make even the most pathetic and vile of verbal self degradations seem so clear and necessary at some times.

Now it's a fight with myself. An"i shall quit, only one". Followed by a few tokes of nausea inducing crap that cause me anxiety and self hatred.

And when i wake up the toughts collide in my head. I have little money. Im practically unemployed. I feel pointless and hopeless. I am loved but i dont deserve that love, because i cannot do anything really good for those who love me because im impotent in my condition. And anxiety, spread all over the place like rotten jam.

And realizing, every day more, how the world hasnt change around me. Neither have i changed. Age hasnt brought disenchantmenbt or worries. It hasnt given me lucidity or being outdates. A lot of the failkyures i suyrrounded myself with in my twenties are still failures now. And we are all fighting against a life that feels like a slow trickling poison that is killing our souls with a slow, gangrenous death and taking away its very own energy.

But what is really killing me is how apathy has won. It always won in the past but never quite like this. This is when you realize that the only two options are either letting your own heart die inside of you or slip into despair because you keep trying to fix things but they break to pieces, smaller and smaller under your hands.

And whenever you swam out of the shit pool you feel like it was pointlesssince nothing has changed and youre exactly where you wer ebefore. And fights are won, but wars just get bigger and bigger.

And you look around. And the passions you had are now something that slows you down. Music is heard, not listened to. Its there, all alike, like a nuimb lifeless sound in the background to which no one besides teenagers who still have their brains filled up with delusions of hope. Its something that exists but no one really loves. And other form of art, entertainment, beauty. Its all one big cloud of stuff that you have there but you barely notice.

And slowly, indifference has become a necessity, because everything you loved costs you money and time and an investment that keeps getting more and more fruitless and empty. And you tell yourself that you're doing it for your own pleasure, that passions are what makes life better. But the silent truth in the deeper layers of your heart is that, maybe, you dont really care anymore. And that you would feel much lighter if you were like everyone else, numb, detached, focused on single daily goals like survival and enrichment. Ignorant and indifferenty, only retaining the infromations that you will need for the next ten minutes. Spending times with people and having sexual intercourse. Not loving.

All it takes to get there is a second for your brain to give up. And its getting harder to resist.

It's a a hard road to rationalization.

I consider myslef a good person. I might have a lot of hard opinions on issues and i'm far from balanced or morally clean. I have had my moments of open minded niceness, and my belief in the chance of improving the world or at least making it humanly tolerable exiusted at some point. Yet, with years and disillusions, that belief faded away like a poster for a cool convention that no one attended.

It rained on it and was replaced by the need of being more strong an inflexible on a few belief, so i wouldnt slowly drown into the cotton mouthed quicksands of apathy.

No, i do not believe in the legal systetm, i stated that before. And i also often think that capital punishment could be neccessary. And yes, i have a vehement hate focused on how in modern society, rapists, abusers and murderers tend to be the ones that afford justice.

That happens because criminals,- often, are backed up by families or people that are prone to get them out of prison and punsihment at any cost. And the protection of a lwayer is a good that is traded like any other good. Justice is now debatablre, and modifiable through an exercise of literatre wording, made more easily poiled by the inner manipulations of legal shenanigans.

Yes, i am aware of the frutration that such view causes. And i have felt angry before.

Yet , this morning, some person opted ofr posting in a public network an image coming from the streets of Brazil. Depitcting a man accused of rape, and punished through streeet justice, his genitals cut and stuck in his throat, as a statement. His victims were, alllegedly, children.

Under the picture a stement but the poster, in the lines of "share if you want this type of justice to be used in our country". Under that, any form of open reaction of digust was sturned into an accusation of being pro-rape. Else, it was celebration and excitement.

While on a conceptual level, i can understand the gut reaction against rape, whether it involves children or not, and on thta there could a be a long sicussion, since it seems that a lot of people are volatile if the rape involves children but get suddenly more prone to forgiveness when its full gwon adults, i cannot, as a human being, accept the mentality behind that.

Not because i am civilized, or a prude. I hate too.

But what that really is, isnt a need to make a statement for justice: it's pornography of hatred. Litterally.

Violence and anger are connected to sexuality, when it comes to males. And in the modern age, the main justification for the not-so-secret arousal you ahve towards an image of violence, is a need for justice. A need to set things right. A need to do a greater good where someone else failed.

To explain more clearly: you are using the excuse of justice to sporead and cover up your unjhealthy exzcitement towards violence. And to not be labeled as sick, vile individual, as you are, you use the shield of justice and freedom of thought. Your beliefs are the cloak under which you hide your sickness.

The obsession for showing animal cruelty to promote an animalist message is simlar: you are basically excited by the sudden burst of adfrenaline you receive from your won idnignation or sickness but you cover that shameful feeling with a good cause. Once we had "faces of death", now we have social statements.

It's obsessing on child pron ography in the name of children. Abuse in the name of equal rights. Racial jokes against racism.

But dont post tits, those are dirty.

Despite All My Rage

In recent times, there has been a whole lot of yapping about the very loosely graspable concept of "freedom". Partially because of how the major countries who rule the universe are deciding to handle laws and regulation on private personal freedom and the very thin, almost invisible line, bewtween that and the duties of an individual.

And i'm constantly surprised at how in the discussion of freedome, that very simple word becomes a tool to actually suppress the real thing. How "freedom of speech" is used as powerful weapon to actually crush any right that individuals have to defnd themselves from abuse in a debate. How "Freddom" to have an opinion means litterally to express hurtful and dangerous thoughts with no oncequence, and attack viciously whoever does not agree.

How drinkers use their freedom of drinking as a way to belittle the sober ones, and to not feel judge they judge others.

How Vegetarians use their freedom to not eat meat as a tool to abuse other people's choices with aggression and attempts to convert. not completely removed from how Templars did with Christianity

But i dont really want to discuss that.

Recently i happened to see a documentary, which contained a video concerning the state of Clinics for The Mentally Ill in Italy (and other countries).

The video showed people tied up to beds, covered with bruises, dirty, screaming and malnourished. It had been filmed not more than 3 or 4 years ago, and not in regions of poverty or abandon. It wasnt a clinic for the rich but not a public one either.

To that followed a series of images from asylums for the criminally insane. People tortured, abused, starved.

During a discussion on the topic with moderate thinking people, the type of people one invites to dinner and with whom you might share hints to what school you want tyo send your kids to, the reactions i obtained were of this kind:

"Well, yes its terrible, but when you have to handle with crazy people, what are you supposed to do?"

"My brother was sent to a clinic like that. I didnt visit that much back then but when he came out, he was so much better. So i guess some of those places work..."

"Well, criminals are criminals and they're supposed to be punished, so i'm in favour of them suffering. I'm against death penalty though"

But i'm not sure i want to discuss this either.

A classic image i always witnessed when i was visting the psychiatrist, in the waiting room was a young person, male or femal, generally barely over thirty. They didnt look seriously ill. Or if they were the illness had shattered them enough to make them look mostly frail and exhausted. Probably numbed out by chemicals that had slowly but surely eroded their soul. Close to them, there was usually their mother or father. And often what they uttered sounded like this:

"sit right. Dont stare at people. Keepo your head down. Dont touch your hair. Dont talk. Breathe quietly"

And so on. But discussing this with the forementioned moderate thinkers cayused sentences like

"well i am sure that having a mentally ill son or daughter is hard. Poor parents, always blamed of everything. No matter what you do, you're wroing...."

So my point seems to be: we are talking about freedom, and indignantly scream when big faceless corporations take our tiny freedoms away. Or wave how everyone should have less freedome, so we could have order. Each has its own opinion.

And yet. And yet. And yet we own other people's freedome and lives. We make tiny human being so we can own them. We "help" ill people so we can put them in cages. WE condemn wrong doers and refuse that the stae kils them but we want to own their dinity and put it in our pocket.

And in the end all we want is to lock up people. Locke em up and not see them. Get them a meal and a blanket to buy their soul. Trap them somewhere for their own good so we can keep them in away so they dont worry us. Silence their voice, not hear a noise cause that makes us feel safer and clean.

Say hello to your loved ones for me, when you eventually see them

To Heir Is Human, To Kill Is Murder.

The web can be mostly a bothersome place. To be honest, for the most part it end ups turning moments, tragedies and emotions into a series of disembodied memes and catchphrases that slowly but surrely, take any form of intelligence or soul away from everything.

It doesnt have anything to do with the myth of "the anonimty of the web", which doesnt really exist. It has to do with how quickly information spreads on it and how people tend to trun everything inot black and white chunks of oversimplification. How people become characters and archetypes, fact get overblown and mutated, and covered with thick coat of fabriactions and dramatizations.

Take, as a powerful example, the Costa Concordia case. I am admittedly ignorant. I have been detached from news in the late days, maybe out of cynicism or laziness. Maybe because my brain tends to become erratic when its overstuffed with thoughts. So i knew little to nothing about the details of the tragedy.

So yesterday in an almost compulsory rush to get up to date, i ended up absorbing more emotional and scattered interpretations of the facts than the facts themselves.

So this came to my eyes : http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-16599655

Followed by my own gut reaction, which was harsh. And by me reading the, possibly even harsher reaction from people.

The story has now been made into something with a villain and a hero.

And so far, i would be ok with that. Because, i think that when people die out of a tragedy and out of the mistakes of a coward, he has to be pointed out as a villain. And if people need to cope with what happened through that, they have the right to do so.

And thats where the brainy jouranlists feel the need to chime in. CXause nowadays, the thriving need of an essayist isnt firing up people's hearts with words apparently. Its to cynically comment on how silly humanity is at needing hweros and pointing the finger at scumbags and how everything is justifiable even if its murder. So you'll read about their disgust towards an homicidal tryrant (Qaddafi) being attacked by his own victims (the people). Because tis barbaric and his life apprently is woth of sympathy. And you'll read about how a captain who caused people to die with his cowardice, is really "human" and "the real monsters are the ones who blame him"

And so allow me to join the monsters and say clearly: fuck your freedom of speech. Fuck your need to rationalise murder. Fuck the middle ground. The man will be possibly jailed, maybe he will have a good lawyer, working with the same rethoric. "everyone makes mistakes. He was scared. To heir is Human"

No. No more forgiveness. No more easy ways out. No more legalese. No more cool headed writings. Fuck all of that. Hang him. High.

Liars And Roses

I suddenly ralized what could be a major breakout moment in my own psychological self discovery, or mantal masturbation. Bear with me while i touch my synpases.

Time has brought me emotional growth and some sort of maturity through self discovery and harsh analysis of my own flaws. But also the possibility of coming in touch with people that are actually positive, loving and filled with a honest nature that makes interacting with them a freeing, beautiful experience.

And i am blessed to have them in my life, cause being honest is something that cleans your soul from the greasy weight of wearing masks, acting to please others (or to displease them, whichever your own game is), keeping emotions inside, shut down, whether theyre positive or negative. And, especially, it sets you free from the crushing chain that is having to leave things untold.

That is poisonous, essenitally. And having someone with which the level of chemistry, confidence and trust is so high that anything can be said casue you know that the person will accept it and eventually understand it, share it and maybe even love you more for it, is something that makes you feel lighter and more able to live like youre supposed to live.

But, as with everything good, its a rare occasion. And after setting my heart free and leaving it get some hair, i had to remind myself that i do not have to luxury to live like that all the time.

I have still other people in my life, close ones i have to deal with daily who cannot handle honesty. Its in simple things. Little conversations where even the slight topic will turn to war. The lives of some are based on lack of dialogue, and lack of truth. Any honesty, any heart baring, results in pain and anger and frustration.

I have tried to discuss the possiblity of an honest relationship with my own family, but i was faced again and again and again with the reality, which is we are not supposed to be honest with each other or tell each other what we feel or even details of our lives. Because in the end they will be used like weapons to fight with. Because misunderstanding is the norm. Because truth told to one, will be used with others and disfigured so its ounds filthy and cruel and causes bitterness and dischord.

And so it is with other relationships too, i guess. For the few beautiful ones we can be truthful with, we shall hold them close and not let them go. And with the others we shall lie and survive and not expect anything good from them. As humanity is a herd of pigs, with a few angels in the mix.

I Am Not Here

This article started in my head as a consideration. Born out of a potential nice gesture.

I wanted, and still want to, buy a gift for my fiernd's one year old daughter. And while pondering what to buy, i considered how potentially creepy my long bearded face could look to the eyes of a toy seller. I dont think i have the looks of a potential child harasser. But no one ever knows.

And that brought me to think of how much i like, when i'm in a store or a public place, to say "hi" and smile to little kids. How i like to help them reach something from a shelf too high for them. Or help them to recover missing toys. How i adore their faces when they are of a certain age. And how, as a lonely, scruffy, thirty-something man, i kinda cannot do this anymore, since automatically most mothers react protectively towards their kids. And at first my mental reaction is "do i look like a potential threat", and i know i really dont. So it made me indignant.

Then i realized, at the peak of my poisonous self aware that, at the eyes of someone who doesnt know me, i might as well be. Actually, i am a threat at the eyes of people who DO know me.

And in the end, threat or no threat, this is what i am: i'm an adult man that has no family, no kids of his own, is mostly a loner and dresses and looks like someone who isnt completely sure of his future. Right now, i dont werar ties or suits. Once, that was for me, a sign of something. SOme sort of statement, for others it still is. But if youre honest, you have to realize the truth: not wearing a suit, in today's world just means you either have a job that allows you that, or that youre so completely detached from the real world that you dont have any interest anymore in how people see you.

And i realize that i have no kids. My father and my mother are depressed and love to repeat to me at any chance how they feel suicidal. My father told me that today.

I do not love him or like him. And yet, this broken man, with whom i have an estranged relationship at best, sends me into pain and melancholy evrytime he says that. I know i'll suffer when he dies. Because in the end, he is my father.

And that reminds me this: i have no kids. No spouse. I have no one, my absence would really change things for. I have people who love me, which will suffer and cry, eventually. But those things will pass. I have no one that will have part of me in their blood. I will have no one that i have to really think of when the dark thoughts come.

I do fight those thoughts daily but when i do, and i end up thinking of the ones who love me., the last voice i hear says: "their tear will dry, but then theyll find consolation in their own families and loved ones. your memory will disappear"

Ive been facing that feeling lately. And wanting to have family of my own. And yet i feel i cannot. Cause i am broken. Cause i am almost on the edge of unemplyment. Cause of million of reasons.

So maybe thats my destiny. I dont really know.