Chapter 1
Biased Look in the Mirror (a brief reflection on myself)
Don't bother reading this, it's not worth the time.
Every morning when I wake up, after I have sauntered to the pisser to relieve myself and before I have even looked for any laundry, I look up at the mirror. With all the confidence I can muster on almost no sleep, I pep myself up.
“You fucking suck,” I say to myself as I look over this pathetic bag of meat and bones, “you went from being a blob of a boy in your early twenties to a twig because you couldn't even provide food for the family you asked for. Sure, you got a little muscle now, but your still weak as shit. You're not even clever with your words. Don't forget you won't be the smartest in anything or wherever you go. God I hate you.” And then I throw on my shitty clothes and remember that I live to work. I live to provide for a family I demanded, while in a world that I'm not good enough for.
As I sit here, I am constantly under temptation to give myself to my own addiction. The worst part is, I am actually jealous of the druggies and alchies. At least they need something physical in their possession to indulge. Every problem and addiction, outside of caffeine and cigarettes, I have is in my head and it's not worth the time I'm taking to write about it. Like I said, stop reading.
I know I need help, but when you can't trust anyone with the secrets you need to scream out, you are basically out of luck. Why don't I speak out professional help? I know I have asked that question and I give myself the same answer. I have had therapists before, but my defenses where naturally up and I would say whatever people wanted to hear. I did open up once, and then I found out I had made a mistake. I realized I was betrayed by a spy when my mother quoted what I had said during one of those young arguments that parents and children have. And when I denied having said it, she told me exactly who had told her. Now I feel more willingness to trust in the public of invisible readers versus someone who is supposed to be bound to confidentiality.
Since then I have tried to reach out, to seek help from very few of those I know, but the one whom I trusted most reached out with a willing hand, but my inability to keep my soul clean from my addictions turned her against me. My lies and unnecessary needs destroy everything within me and outside of me, to the point of every moment outside the house becomes a sin against the one I demanded. In the anger she had, my sins and the events that formed darkness are thrown in my face with an earful of spit and venom. Despite that, I would fire back, try to walk away or even try to turn the spotlight back on her in my own disgrace. I love her and hate her in equal measures. I became a reclusive loser where I finally learned I was only needing to live to work.
In case you are wondering, I do hate myself. And while it's only a surface thought, I do hope to die, though I am hesitant about it due to the life I have led. I really don't want to go to Hell, which is the entire reason I haven't really tried to off myself. When I drive, I hope that this time, while I try to save myself and keep myself alive, God will overpower me and take me from this world. I have to fight to survive, but that doesn't mean I'm not betting against this pathetic person I have become.
To be continued
