Sarcasm Alley

In the Land of Milk and Honey when you die they think it's funny

cheshyre grin

cheshyre grin
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Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come
Birthday
January 01
Title
The One True
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An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.
Bio
Quit your snooping, bitch.

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FEBRUARY 6, 2013 4:23AM

Dear Diary: All The World's A Rage (NSFR)

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"Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain,
"And all the children are insane."


Things are going well on my latest campaign. No one suspects a thing.

Making all these household improvements really gives the look of someone planning on living. Dropping two grand on the new tub and shower area really hurts but it is something I enjoy on a daily basis and gives me a chance to talk about how it improves the resale value of the condo and blah, blah, blah for when I allegedly move. I, of course, know I won't get out of here alive.

Getting the place finally organized with the new furniture helps too. Gawd, the clutter! Was driving me nuts. It also allows me to more easily pretend an actual interest in my life. So everything is being put in order, aka putting on me dress blues, making it look good for final departure. These idiots actually think it means I'm being successful!

The screws just keep getting tighter and tighter at work. Corporate knuckle draggers are having a field day taking lives and backstabbing. Lots of nervous laughter going round along with low whispers of concern. We'd all fucking leave the insanity if we could but how does one leave the Roman empire? Rotting Romans are slaves to their slaves. It's all consuming, as pointless as changing positions on the Titanic. We're supposed to call that freedom. What nasty little perverts we are, getting everything backwards. No way out of that.

Everywhere you look, another capitalist

Health continues to decline alarmingly. Longer I stay here, the more I'm punished. Emily was my last chance to connect but I snapped under the weight of guilt and paralyzing fear. So I pulled the plug on even trying, which I know is fatal. The nightmares caused by the constant lying swirl into my head the minute I close my eyes. I dropped from exhaustion into a daymare and dreamt I had just been launched into space. The radio was crackling. I couldn't tell if it was saying there was a problem or not. Would it be the Challenger all over again? Was I about to die? I woke up terrified and heart pounding, my body burning up. Another typical restless dream.

The hounds of war are never far. One slip up and they'll cut your throat. My psychotic sister is still laying low in the weeds, rabid with anticipation, salivating for me to publicly stumble so she can "excusably" shank me again. To outsiders she's rushing to prop me up but they don't see when she sticks in the knife. Un-fucking-believable. "Just trying to help!" Never trust a woman who lets herself be raped. She'll be the first one to rape you when she gets the chance.

Of course, the worldly assassins are no better. Authorized kidnappings, torture chambers, drug induced insanity. "Just trying to help!" They can't stand it if you're not happy in their precious little lie of a society. Must be something wrong with you! The witches wage perpetual witch hunts and they can never burn enough souls. Man, the pressure is overwhelming, like walking forever in a mine field. Doesn't matter how much you hate it, how wrong or unfair it is or even how tired you get, the rule is still the same: one wrong step and you're dead. I'll be damn fucking glad when this goddam world is dead.



I'm starting to stumble in my act. Part of it really is being too tired. Part of it is a lack of interest. People really can't believe you can see right through them. I'm just telling you what you think you want to hear. It's funny when I catch them doing the same to me! Just more meaningless chatter cluttering up the world, choking out the truth. Everyone's got a hair trigger and wrongly takes the truth as an insult. That was one of the great things about Emily, she never made me lie about my intelligence.

I dream about buying the gun, the only true hope. Emily wouldn't let me live that dream, tethering me here in irresistible desire to live. But we all need hope. Heard a story about an elderly woman who went to a gun store, passed all the bullshit tests we use as a pretense for giving a damn, walked straight to her car in the parking lot and blew her brains out. Awesome! Store owner was all upset at his conscience being exposed. Hope I think of something that cool.

What would happen if everyone's act were stripped away? People talking about their grandkids' lives and other bullshit as if we're not in permanent decline. Fact is, they'll kill them in the name of love. No one wants to admit we're fucking up. They're either turning a blind eye or just grabbing all they can before the ship sinks. But ain't no grandkid gonna love you when they're stuck with the undeniable mess! So assholes walk around all prim and proper like well-dressed freaks of deformity worthy of love, defending the status quo because that's what good people would do, ensuring the very doom they say they are preventing. (Hi, Mr. President, whoever you are!)

We aren't going to stop reproducing
and carrying on

The bad guys are winning. They always have. Problem is there just aren't enough bullets to kill all the people needing killing. When killers rule, everybody dies. I abandoned my destiny. Could I have saved lives? It's very real to me the answer is yes. Saved the world? Absolutely not. But to lessen the violence, open the doors of communication that permanent peace uses as a foundation, to pass through the door that changes you forever, that's how paradise begins. I was not good enough to defeat the masked madness. Another day in hell as the bird of prey slowly picks away.


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Comments

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Don't forget it's nunya (or I will remind you!)
[r] the doors! apt. poignant and compelling and unsettling as always. best, libby
Took courage to read this, Libby! The world is now and will always be an extension of our dreams (or lack thereof).