"Don't tell me what's in
Tell me how to write
Don't tell me how to win this fight
Isn't your life
It isn't your right to take the only thing that's mine."
I never thought I could hate someone... I mean, really hate. But I'm beginning to hate you. It's scary because we were once best friends... and now I really mostly can't stand you. Maybe because you cheated on one of my other friends... but if I'm honest with myself, the real reason is because, strictly speaking, you have always been better than me.
If I'm even more honest with myself, however, I can see that I don't truly believe that. I feel I am better than you. It's just that you're so high and mighty. Everyone has always told you that you are the best, and you believe it. You've been told you are the best musician, the best writer, the smartest person; you've always had high grades in every exam- be it music, english, science, anything. You obviously must be prettier than others, or you wouldn't have had most of the boys in our year after you. Every single person who meets you loves you, so you must be a better person than anyone else. You had everyone trailing after you in high school. Every experience of your young life so far has perpetuated the implication that you are the most wonderful human being in the world.
I just wish everyone could see how fake and terrible you are. You whine about your life as if it isn't good enough for you. You cheat on people, you're blunt and insensitive, you lord it over everyone, you flaunt your success to make other people feel bad. Like I said, I never thought I could hate anyone... but you've managed to tip me over the edge.
Showing posts with label fury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fury. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Monday, November 16, 2009
Escape
"I'm gonna paste you up, cover you in wallpaper
Screw shelves into you and call you a wall
That's all you are to me, trying to keep people inside
Inside your sordid little house; this is no white abode
You can have skirting board shoes and plug sockets on your knees
I'll hang a painting on your lip
And put tinsel 'round it at Christmas
Trying to keep people inside, inside your sordid little house
Trying to keep people inside, inside your sordid little house.
You can't keep us inside much longer now
We've seen the view from the windows..."
I have an escape route.
It won't be much longer that I have to live with this. To put up with them hurting and doubting me. "You'll never manage," dad said. "You'll never cope." What kind of parent tells their child that?
And the shouting. If it's not at each other it's at me or someone else. The whole atmosphere in this house has become poisonous. I won't be sorry to leave, now. Not now that I have my escape.
It might hurt them, what I'm going to do. I don't much care anymore. They can't make me stay, not by law. And I won't let them use words.
Screw shelves into you and call you a wall
That's all you are to me, trying to keep people inside
Inside your sordid little house; this is no white abode
You can have skirting board shoes and plug sockets on your knees
I'll hang a painting on your lip
And put tinsel 'round it at Christmas
Trying to keep people inside, inside your sordid little house
Trying to keep people inside, inside your sordid little house.
You can't keep us inside much longer now
We've seen the view from the windows..."
I have an escape route.
It won't be much longer that I have to live with this. To put up with them hurting and doubting me. "You'll never manage," dad said. "You'll never cope." What kind of parent tells their child that?
And the shouting. If it's not at each other it's at me or someone else. The whole atmosphere in this house has become poisonous. I won't be sorry to leave, now. Not now that I have my escape.
It might hurt them, what I'm going to do. I don't much care anymore. They can't make me stay, not by law. And I won't let them use words.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Chapter Six: Out
"So fill your head with what you think you understand.
My ears grow tired of listening to this constant recital
Lend yourself only when it suits
For this worthy cause, for this worthy cause
Feed the elevation that you so desperately, so desperately...
And in this voice of confidence
Too proud to admit flawed opinions
Bound to his verbal crusade
Preaching his infected position.
These tones will always deceive the unfamiliar
Still glorifying your misperception.
SO IN LOVE WITH THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN VOICE
And why? You would talk for eternity
The watcher runs
With the circles of his debate
And in the end, what's been achieved?"
It's definitely time to move out.
When you admit a huge weakness in your character; when you ask a small favour of your mother in order to help you overcome this weakness, and you are denied on the grounds that this person who is meant to love you and care for you is too lazy and busy to do this small thing for you... it's definitely time to move out.
When you come home late, exhausted from a stressful weekend worrying about and crying over your soulmate who has had to spend a night in hospital, and from nursing him back to health; when your father attacks you so personally that you break down in tears and sob so hard you cannot draw breath, and even then he has no pity for you; when your mother calls you selfish, thoughtless and immature, and then expects you to come over to the couch and make her feel like she hasn't done anything wrong... it's definitely time to move out.
When neither parent seems to understand how the weight of keeping peace in the family, the weight of all their countless fights, the weight of the negative emotion that they spread in any house that they live in; how that weight descends upon you and bears you down, crushes you to the floor while you try and lift it away from yourself... it's time. It's time. It is time.
From now, the money I earn from teaching is going towards that one goal. I will endure until I have enough. Then I will leave.
I've been procrastinating, inventing and imagining amazing situations where I could keep my beautiful new house with my window seat and evict my parents, evict that negative emotion. I haven't faced the fact that it will take sacrifices to escape this situation. I feel like I've grown up all of a sudden.
I have to get out of here.
My ears grow tired of listening to this constant recital
Lend yourself only when it suits
For this worthy cause, for this worthy cause
Feed the elevation that you so desperately, so desperately...
And in this voice of confidence
Too proud to admit flawed opinions
Bound to his verbal crusade
Preaching his infected position.
These tones will always deceive the unfamiliar
Still glorifying your misperception.
SO IN LOVE WITH THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN VOICE
And why? You would talk for eternity
The watcher runs
With the circles of his debate
And in the end, what's been achieved?"
It's definitely time to move out.
When you admit a huge weakness in your character; when you ask a small favour of your mother in order to help you overcome this weakness, and you are denied on the grounds that this person who is meant to love you and care for you is too lazy and busy to do this small thing for you... it's definitely time to move out.
When you come home late, exhausted from a stressful weekend worrying about and crying over your soulmate who has had to spend a night in hospital, and from nursing him back to health; when your father attacks you so personally that you break down in tears and sob so hard you cannot draw breath, and even then he has no pity for you; when your mother calls you selfish, thoughtless and immature, and then expects you to come over to the couch and make her feel like she hasn't done anything wrong... it's definitely time to move out.
When neither parent seems to understand how the weight of keeping peace in the family, the weight of all their countless fights, the weight of the negative emotion that they spread in any house that they live in; how that weight descends upon you and bears you down, crushes you to the floor while you try and lift it away from yourself... it's time. It's time. It is time.
From now, the money I earn from teaching is going towards that one goal. I will endure until I have enough. Then I will leave.
I've been procrastinating, inventing and imagining amazing situations where I could keep my beautiful new house with my window seat and evict my parents, evict that negative emotion. I haven't faced the fact that it will take sacrifices to escape this situation. I feel like I've grown up all of a sudden.
I have to get out of here.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Abandoned
"The truth is hiding in your eyes
And it's hanging on your tongue
Just boiling in my blood
But you think that I can't see
What kind of man you are
If you're you a man at all...
Well I will figure this one out on my own
On my own...
I'm screaming 'I love you so'
But my thoughts you can't decode.
How did we get here?
I used to know you so well.
How did we get here?
I think I know..."
People are strange. You think you know them, and then they go and do something totally unexpected.
Some people are stranger than others, and this kind of strangeness spills over into the relationships they have with other people. The relationship becomes strange... becomes something out of the ordinary, something others cannot understand. From the outside it can look wrong, disturbing, unnatural; but from the inside it's the safest thing each person knows. For some, it can become like a back stop. A fall net. When your boyfriend breaks up with you, this friend is there to help you not to lose your sense of beauty or worth. When your other friends get petty and catty and ditch you, this friend is there to make sure you are not alone. When the world fails you, this friend is there to step in. And when you have a friend like that, you will defend them to the end. You defend their anomalies, their strangeness, their failings, and especially you defend your relationship, because no matter how intense and unnatural it may seem to others, it's your security.
We were tight. We were tighter than tight. But he has disappeared off the face of my earth, and it's like a rug being pulled from under my feet. I fell, and my safety net should have caught me halfway down... but I'm still falling, and I think I'm beginning to realise that sooner or later I'm going to have to save myself... or break into pieces on the ground.
It almost feels like losing a partner. I dread seeing him around uni, and yet I wish I would because then I could shout at him. I could demand to know where he was when I needed him. I could make him hurt, and be sorry, and then maybe... just maybe... we could be friends again. I could have my net back. I could be safe again. I could stop feeling so abandoned. So bewildered. So lost.
"Where were you when I was burned and broken,
While the days slipped by from my window watching?
Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless?
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me.
While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun."
And it's hanging on your tongue
Just boiling in my blood
But you think that I can't see
What kind of man you are
If you're you a man at all...
Well I will figure this one out on my own
On my own...
I'm screaming 'I love you so'
But my thoughts you can't decode.
How did we get here?
I used to know you so well.
How did we get here?
I think I know..."
People are strange. You think you know them, and then they go and do something totally unexpected.
Some people are stranger than others, and this kind of strangeness spills over into the relationships they have with other people. The relationship becomes strange... becomes something out of the ordinary, something others cannot understand. From the outside it can look wrong, disturbing, unnatural; but from the inside it's the safest thing each person knows. For some, it can become like a back stop. A fall net. When your boyfriend breaks up with you, this friend is there to help you not to lose your sense of beauty or worth. When your other friends get petty and catty and ditch you, this friend is there to make sure you are not alone. When the world fails you, this friend is there to step in. And when you have a friend like that, you will defend them to the end. You defend their anomalies, their strangeness, their failings, and especially you defend your relationship, because no matter how intense and unnatural it may seem to others, it's your security.
We were tight. We were tighter than tight. But he has disappeared off the face of my earth, and it's like a rug being pulled from under my feet. I fell, and my safety net should have caught me halfway down... but I'm still falling, and I think I'm beginning to realise that sooner or later I'm going to have to save myself... or break into pieces on the ground.
It almost feels like losing a partner. I dread seeing him around uni, and yet I wish I would because then I could shout at him. I could demand to know where he was when I needed him. I could make him hurt, and be sorry, and then maybe... just maybe... we could be friends again. I could have my net back. I could be safe again. I could stop feeling so abandoned. So bewildered. So lost.
"Where were you when I was burned and broken,
While the days slipped by from my window watching?
Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless?
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me.
While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun."
Friday, June 19, 2009
Travesty
"We all feed on tragedy
It's like blood to a vampire.
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I."
Why is it that human beings have such an appetite for tragedy? An appetite that even drowns out our appetite for love? Some of the greatest "love" stories in the world are based in tragedy. Look at Romeo and Juliet. Death and destruction. And more recently, look at Twilight. How much darkness and corruption and fear and sadness is in that series as a whole?
What about Wuthering Heights? There's a new version of it on tv round about now. "Oh, that's a beautiful story", Jared's mum said. But it's not. I admit that I haven't watched or read the whole thing yet, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to. I watched the first half of it last sunday and what do we see right away at the beginning? Heathcliffe, hopelessly and frighteningly obsessed, digs up Catherine's coffin, wrenches the thing apart and, though his own deluded mind sees her merely sleeping, the truth is that he climbs into the coffin and strokes the bones of his former love. And we are supposed to look at this as a beautiful story? It carries on. We go back in time and we see the two, Catherine and Heathcliffe, helplessly and hopelessly attached to each other. And yet what does she do? She marries someone else. The two torture each other. So much agony and anger. This is not love. This is obsession. Mutual obsession, disguised and paraded as "true love".
IT IS ALL A LIE.
In one of my English courses this year, one of the subjects we studied is "love". Again, the text we studied was not about love. It was about lust, obsession, infatuation. Not love. It angered me so much to hear people advertising this travesty of emotion as love, as true love, as soulmates.
LIES.
I have been obsessed with people. I have had people obsessed with me. I have felt lust and infatuation. And now I have experienced true love. And let me tell you, obsession and love are NOTHING alike. Nothing. It makes me so ANGRY that a writer or film maker can do this, can taint and corrupt the idea of love with their horrible, obsessive characters. And yet these "works of art", these "great love stories" are bought and eaten up by the average person! What kind of corrupted, twisted view of love does the population have if these horrible, frightening, tragic stories are viewed as stories of true love?
Perhaps if they are correct, then nobody experiences true love. I know of nobody who has had stories like Romeo and Juliet and Wuthering Heights happen to them in the real world. But I know that I have true love. I know it like I know who I am. And so, from my anger at popular authors and directers, comes fear. If what I have is true love, then there is only one path for it... the Wuthering Heights path, the Romeo and Juliet path, the Twilight path... the path to destruction. The destruction of the mind. The destruction of life. The destruction of other people's lives. I am so afraid. How can such a force of good have such bad effects?
I don't know who to believe- the world, or myself.
It's like blood to a vampire.
Vicariously, I
Live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I."
Why is it that human beings have such an appetite for tragedy? An appetite that even drowns out our appetite for love? Some of the greatest "love" stories in the world are based in tragedy. Look at Romeo and Juliet. Death and destruction. And more recently, look at Twilight. How much darkness and corruption and fear and sadness is in that series as a whole?
What about Wuthering Heights? There's a new version of it on tv round about now. "Oh, that's a beautiful story", Jared's mum said. But it's not. I admit that I haven't watched or read the whole thing yet, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to. I watched the first half of it last sunday and what do we see right away at the beginning? Heathcliffe, hopelessly and frighteningly obsessed, digs up Catherine's coffin, wrenches the thing apart and, though his own deluded mind sees her merely sleeping, the truth is that he climbs into the coffin and strokes the bones of his former love. And we are supposed to look at this as a beautiful story? It carries on. We go back in time and we see the two, Catherine and Heathcliffe, helplessly and hopelessly attached to each other. And yet what does she do? She marries someone else. The two torture each other. So much agony and anger. This is not love. This is obsession. Mutual obsession, disguised and paraded as "true love".
IT IS ALL A LIE.
In one of my English courses this year, one of the subjects we studied is "love". Again, the text we studied was not about love. It was about lust, obsession, infatuation. Not love. It angered me so much to hear people advertising this travesty of emotion as love, as true love, as soulmates.
LIES.
I have been obsessed with people. I have had people obsessed with me. I have felt lust and infatuation. And now I have experienced true love. And let me tell you, obsession and love are NOTHING alike. Nothing. It makes me so ANGRY that a writer or film maker can do this, can taint and corrupt the idea of love with their horrible, obsessive characters. And yet these "works of art", these "great love stories" are bought and eaten up by the average person! What kind of corrupted, twisted view of love does the population have if these horrible, frightening, tragic stories are viewed as stories of true love?
Perhaps if they are correct, then nobody experiences true love. I know of nobody who has had stories like Romeo and Juliet and Wuthering Heights happen to them in the real world. But I know that I have true love. I know it like I know who I am. And so, from my anger at popular authors and directers, comes fear. If what I have is true love, then there is only one path for it... the Wuthering Heights path, the Romeo and Juliet path, the Twilight path... the path to destruction. The destruction of the mind. The destruction of life. The destruction of other people's lives. I am so afraid. How can such a force of good have such bad effects?
I don't know who to believe- the world, or myself.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Fury
"It's a cruel thing you'll never know
All the ways I tried
It's a hard thing faking a smile
When I feel like I'm falling apart inside
And now you're gone it's like an echo in my head
And I remember every word you said..."
It was close to seven o'clock at night. I was on the bus on the way home from Uni- what a place to have a mental spasm- and that song came up on my iPod... Robyn, Be Mine. Back when shadow-boy was my obsession that song would make me cry until my heart nearly burst. But when I heard it today something else began to rise in my chest... utter and absolute fury.
I've never felt so purely angry in my life. I don't deal with anger very well. I'm not used to it. Frustration, yes... hurt, yes... regret, yes... but not anger.
So I ran. I got off the bus and I ran through my suburb in the darkness. Like the first time I heard that song, I wanted to scream... this time in a different kind of agony than the first... but I didn't want to scare my neighbours... so, like the first time, I danced. I beat the ground with my feet, I cut the air with my arms, I lashed out at the sky. I spun through my fury.
I stopped when it was getting too late and too close to my house to continue.
How dare he?! How dare shadow-boy still affect me this way when it's been so long, and I've been through so much life, and I've had the most amazing person practically given to me on a plate- it's complete crap! Why?!
I believe that everything happens for a reason... but what the hell is life trying to teach me with this?! I've learned everything that I can from him- what is the point in prolonging this torture, this utter useless hopelessness?
And the worst bit is that it's not even his fault. The only person I can really blame is myself- my mind. My stupid, stupid mind! It's all in my head. The one person whose rejection consistently made me feel like I wasn't good enough. And he doesn't even know. He has no idea.
It's. All. In. My. Head.
All the ways I tried
It's a hard thing faking a smile
When I feel like I'm falling apart inside
And now you're gone it's like an echo in my head
And I remember every word you said..."
It was close to seven o'clock at night. I was on the bus on the way home from Uni- what a place to have a mental spasm- and that song came up on my iPod... Robyn, Be Mine. Back when shadow-boy was my obsession that song would make me cry until my heart nearly burst. But when I heard it today something else began to rise in my chest... utter and absolute fury.
I've never felt so purely angry in my life. I don't deal with anger very well. I'm not used to it. Frustration, yes... hurt, yes... regret, yes... but not anger.
So I ran. I got off the bus and I ran through my suburb in the darkness. Like the first time I heard that song, I wanted to scream... this time in a different kind of agony than the first... but I didn't want to scare my neighbours... so, like the first time, I danced. I beat the ground with my feet, I cut the air with my arms, I lashed out at the sky. I spun through my fury.
I stopped when it was getting too late and too close to my house to continue.
How dare he?! How dare shadow-boy still affect me this way when it's been so long, and I've been through so much life, and I've had the most amazing person practically given to me on a plate- it's complete crap! Why?!
I believe that everything happens for a reason... but what the hell is life trying to teach me with this?! I've learned everything that I can from him- what is the point in prolonging this torture, this utter useless hopelessness?
And the worst bit is that it's not even his fault. The only person I can really blame is myself- my mind. My stupid, stupid mind! It's all in my head. The one person whose rejection consistently made me feel like I wasn't good enough. And he doesn't even know. He has no idea.
It's. All. In. My. Head.
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