EXISTENTIAL FEAR

I’m afraid, as we all are.

I’m afraid that I’m such a mistake that I’ll never truly find my place in this world, unless I’m being used for someone else's benefit.

I’m afraid that no matter how hard I try, nothing will come of my efforts because we’re all at the mercy of our own fate, a path forged for each of us leaving us no choice. Some are doomed shiver alone in the darkest of cold shadows, while others get to be illuminated by the warmth of the sun.

I’m afraid that I’m too weak, too unnecessary, too worthless.

I’m afraid of loosing just as much as I’m afraid of winning, therefore I become too afraid to try.

I’m afraid of being crippled by loneliness.

I’m afraid of being crippled by age.

I’m afraid of being crippled by fear, even though I already am.

I’m afraid of people and their intentions.

I’m afraid of the world because I’m afraid that I’m not meant to be here.

I’m afraid of being alone, yet I’m afraid of getting close to others.

I’m afraid of simply being human.

I’m afraid, as we all are.

Corrosive Empathic Psychosis

It was Christmas Day and little Tiffany’s parents sat in the living room as she passed out presents, her blonde curls bounced and her face lit up with a smile, like the glimmering Christmas lights loosely strung around the small Christmas tree. The smile slowly began to fade as she noticed that her gifts were stacked into a large pile, creating a maze that left very little space for her and everyone else to move. Meanwhile, the extended family members that grew up with nothing only received socks, underwear, and a few food items.

The voice in her head began to get louder as she sat down, cramped between the exuberant amount of gifts and the couch. She felt trapped and claustrophobic as she began to open the gifts, feigning Christmas joy. Her pretty blue eyes started to water as the voice began to bellow, “you’re a piece of shit! You’re a waste of space! Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Tiffany began to panic, yet she said nothing out of fear of upsetting anyone. She felt overwhelmed as she felt everyone staring at her, judging her. Tiffany’s thoughts raced as an invisible hand wrapped around her neck, keeping her from saying what she really wanted to say, so instead, she screamed. She grabbed her hair and screamed louder than the voices that told her she was worthless, making her appear spoiled and unappreciative. Her family gaped at her, stunned by the sudden madness happening in front of them, angry at the screeching brat they maxed out their credit cards for.

Later that day, everyone went home and the pathetic princess tried to apologize to her mother, who was already too stoned to care. “You have to remember that there are children who don’t have what you have.” Her mother's words and slurred speech created a familiar, lonely void that Tiffany’s heart always managed to fall into.

Tiffany went to her room, cuddling with her self-hatred, noticing the only thing beautiful in her life were the expensive inanimate objects everyone mistakes for love.

The End

Empathy (From the POV of emapthy as if it were human)

Agnes Toth

Empathy

http://www.agnestoth.eu/

Your vicious tongue filled with venom and lies twists and twirls its way through my brain.

You revile me odious tales and malicious piety

Your cruel, shallow nature makes me sick of you!

Not only you but myself, because I am unworthy.

But YOU are unworthy!

You're greedy, lazy, and mediocre.

You're so talented but vague.

Just like everyone else, I love you and I hate you.

I long to be a part of you.

Hello society!

Hello World!

Do you remember me?

Yes, you do.

Though I hardly doubt you care...

Fat Emo

My entire childhood and some of my early adulthood, I was always the fat girl. I'm very proud of how hard I worked to be in such good shape, but sometimes I wonder why I don't eat myself back to morbid obesity. I don't know why I was completely ashamed of myself! I ate my emotions and "cut" them off  (i.e. self-mutilation), leaving my brain in a dopamine-induced food haze. Of course, that didn't last! It was always followed by shame; not just because I ate too much, but because I lacked the will and motivation to do anything about it. Then after a series of profound moments and unbearable boredom, I decided to better myself.

I want to see the world and meet different people (Yes! This misanthropic nihilist wants to meet people!), try exotic foods, and learn about different cultures. You can't do these things lying in bed all day. Not to mention, I really hate hating myself. So, I got up and decided to do something about it. Naturally, there is A LOT more to this story! Perhaps one day, I'll write about it in my autobiography. 

Long story short, I used to define my self-worth based on how I looked. I've been fat my whole life, within that same time span, I've also been a misfit. Eventually, I learned how to cake on makeup and do my hair in an attempt to either draw people in or push them away. I thought the only way to be valuable was to look valuable. If I didn't look like what I perceived to be valuable, then I deserved to be alone. How petty! How moronically artificial could I be to not remember the rot that inevitably sets in?!

Do people treat me any differently now than they did when I was fat? Yes, very much so! Are they nicer? Not really...

No matter what I look like, I'm too different to fit into a traditional mold. I'm too aware to be blind to the fact that beauty is nothing more than quality mating, innately making you a more titillating conquest. I used to want kids, I also used to pretend to love them (Kids are annoying). However, I already decided in my mid-twenties it was best not to reproduce. For that reason among many others, theirs no point in being valuable to anyone but myself and those who value me as a person.

I'm not going to lie, I enjoy looking at men and women with beautiful parts. Regardless of my shallow tendencies, it doesn't diminish the fact that those individuals are people with thoughts, feelings, hopes, dreams, and insecurities of their own. Being beautiful doesn't make you special or unique...it just makes you lucky; and more often than you might deserve, you get lucky!

Vanity is dangerous and potentially self-destructive. We're more than the pretentious layer that society expects us to be; the clear, colorless human beings that make our idiosyncrasies less terrifying and uncontrollable. We constantly change and transform, we grow old and then revert to stardust. We are different, yet we are the same. As an act of self-love, I vow to be less of a superficial twat goblin!

    

Anxious mutterings and False Pretense

 My anxiety with people overwhelms me. Every day I'm anxious about being social and opening up out of fear of how people might try to hurt me. It's not about what they think, it's about what they'll do. Does everyone feel this way?

I'm not perfect.

This is important because just like everyone else, I put up a front. Does everyone really do this, or am I just a fake piece of shit?

I'm.Not.Perfect.

 Nonetheless, I smile and I laugh trying to make the best of this mortal coil. This place is so fucked up, I force myself to talk to people and I do my best to interact; despite the fact that deep down every day I want to die. Does this make me crazy? Am I chemically imbalanced, or am I correct when I feel like I'm not meant to be here? I've personally never met a human that wasn't on some level mentally ill! I continue to smile and I continue to laugh, pretending that nothing is wrong. I do this because I don't know how else to cope.

I'M NOT PERFECT

Ramblings from a woman who can't stop menstruating

    Sometimes I feel like feminism is a joke. I hear the #metoo movement and I feel the burden, the weight of every woman's suffering being unheard or undermined. In a lot of ways, women bring it on themselves.

    For as long as history has been recorded, men have ruled the world. Very few societies have been recorded as egalitarian(aside from slavery of course). The ancient Celts fought equally on the battlefield; men, women and even children fought side by side. Vikings, both male and female; had equal say in what happened in their communities. Not to mention, rape and attempted rape were punishable by death! Personally,  I think a more suitable punishment would be castration and having your balls removed from the sack. Unfortunately, you can't get everything you want!

    I hope that one-day things will change, but women don't have each others backs the way men do. In most societies, men set roles for everyone to follow because they're predominantly in power. For women, that role is a cook, a clean and a caregiver. Once that role is fulfilled, it is believed that there is no room for anything else; not even her own wants and needs. Being pretty is clearly an advantage in snagging a suitable husband. I used to weigh 300 pounds, so I'm aware of the clear distinction in which women are treated according to how they look. Most women are too "stuck in their role" to say anything.

    I'll admit my responsibility by remaining silent. I was at a party once and a guy brushed my waist with his hand, and all I did was walk away; feeling like I could've done more. Several times I have walked down the street, harassed by males to frightened to leave their cars. Of course, their's nothing I could do about that! However, there are the ones with the balls to try and talk to me and ask for my number. I want to be rude, but fear makes me smile and politely say no thanks; making me appear as if I lack authenticity.

    The point is, women, take it out on each other. We make each other apologize for someone else's actions. We are told to take responsibility by covering up, shutting up and walking on eggshells--or else, we're asking for it. We don't take each other seriously any more than men do. So, we remain silent and simply wait to bleed.

    Is there a happy ending without semen everywhere?

 

My Own Worst Enemy

I've got words racing and pushing their way to my tongue on a razor's edge.
They bleed and pour out uncontrollably.
They want to be free like birds in the summer green.
They lay their bodies in the fresh cut grass as they bask in the suns misery.

I've got emotions slithering through my body and soul. It eats at me in the form of a parasite;
like a leech draining me dry, or an amoeba eating its way through my already corroded brain.
They are hungry and ravenous, and what's even more frightening is they can't get enough.

I've got loneliness weighing me down. It sleeps and dreams, then wakes up looking for a companion. I am that companion.
So it's true when they say misery loves company!
I'm always there for you loneliness because you are just as alone as I am.
Yet you are so selfish, you refuse to be there for me.

I've got anger seizing me.
My mother, my sister, my friend.
You cage me and feed me insanity.
You love me like abusive mothers love their daughters; you beat me down and then you cradle me against your bosom, nurturing me with rage.

Why do I love you? Why do I need you?