I had to be demeaned excruciatingly on repeat to realize that I am worthy of all those impossibly interesting crevices of society that I previously thought denied me. Success does not start dependent on where our umbilical cord attached, even though it plays an immense role in terms of genetics and upbringings, it is not the deciding factor for how a child evolves into an adult. Why hadn’t I ever realized there is a purpose to my not being handed everything? I’ve been groomed for my entire life to be the person that I am now, the good, the despicable evil I am capable of and refuse to choose. Though there is a considerable amount of factors that could have gone toward me to benefit my “greatness”, it was not required, and unfortunately, my life path has made me more interesting as well as intelligent in ways that clearly procured a criminal mind.
My path is tangible, it can be seen through the ways in which I walk, the vernacular of which I talk, the options in daily life I opt into, the way in which I know where every scar comes from—what am I when acquaintances get a thrill of relating me to protagonists in films? I’m much more than a fictional bore, I am a real person who struggles to relate with this world; what a gift it is to be able to write, won’t the time come where I will be seen for all I’ve fought for?
As I waste my time, the handle of the clock ticks unbearably loudly—does nobody else hear what I hear? Why are my comrades so quick to sizzle their thoughts for luxury and mindless activity? Yes, the stick up my ass could be felt if I consider the personality traits I indulge myself in; with the burning desire to sin boiling beneath my skin, it is only gratifying to feel imperceivable penetration in my daily life. Have I damaged my brain or have I opened it to the beauty of insanity?
No, I am not an optimal influence on children, this is why I sense a barrier that puts me off from them. No, it is not ill feeling—I feel much love for children, their innocence must be protected. I cannot do the protecting, my eardrums take a beating when I rise against the evil projected onto children. What am I meant to do when it may illicit such a response? Not all issues can safely be tackled one-on-one, there is a greater societal power to speak with, and I must figure out how to climb that ladder by utilizing the rules of this power game I’ve been taught.
All these scenarios played out in my imagination, the possibilities I’ve painted without hindering ego manifestations… I could see who I am, more than I ever have. Endless meetings racing ahead of my eyes, they’ll happen if I am willing to play this game that was put before me the day I was unbounded and released from my Mother. A game piece thrown onto the board knowing only the output that is taken in through eyes and ears—and oh how are we not all raped at birth? Is there a point in the time before time that we consented to oblige to this world?
Success is not always but a blessing. It is an upward trajectory filled with suffering and comprising of one’s humanity. Can you not feel the pain of our ancestors who battled their way through atrocities to allow us to be breathing here? Is there not a grandiose reason for allowing our pain to continue generationally?
Oh, what have I done?