The story so far:
Guilt trip
by xdshadowscythe
Things are definitely starting to bog me down, I'll just do the usual to get things out of the way. Well, I talked to her about what needed to be said and we're still friends, which is a good thing, don't get me wrong there, though I'm kinda feeling empty inside just a little and feeling guilty about it. Ok! This is going to get kind of hideous, like Joan Rivers... Yeah I couldn't resist.
Any ways, my mind has been reeling at how I've been acting lately, like a lost dog with no owner. What are my reasons for enlisting.... Really? What are they, aside from the good ones, you know, "Defend your country, earn a living, experience new things!" Yeah, **** to that my friends. Not only am I getting chills just thinking about it, I'm also terrified at all that I'd be giving up. Which the scales seem to be tipping to the other side now. I can't lose my focus here, I just can't. I can't take another bite of the stress that I've been putting myself through, I'm sick of the stupid looks I get from some former friends of mine, the feeling like they all think I'm some sort of dirty secret... All because of something that happened TWO **** YEARS AGO!
What the hell is their problem? Any ways, I need to keep my focus with this. If I don't enlist it'll just prove Tari right after all. I never complete things. I know I've got the support of hundreds, and my dad, love him to death. I really do. God bless his heart and soul. Hmm... Heart and soul...
In other news... Back to the first thing I was writing about. I've come to a screeching conclusion about somethings which are entirely my fault. I know I'm way too hard on myself, little ones. It's just easier for me to feel this way, you know? No... Of course you don't... You don't know what its like to live with a hideous watermark on your soul, because of something that went horribly, horribly, wrong; And to see the way people look at you like your some **** mistake that shouldn't be let outside the house. For fear that you'll just repeat the same thing you did last time you loved someone deeply. Or the hate that burns inside your heart every time you bring the subject up, or the knowledge that no matter what you do, you know that those affected will never really trust you again.
To those idiots that see me in a different light since they were closely related to that incident. I have one or two words to say to you all.
**** YOU! It's been nearly a year since whatever happened, happened. Just let it die already! You think I'll repeat my mistakes again? Do you honestly feel that way? Well, you shouldn't, I never want anything to do with that stupid, blow up doll look alike, woman again. You want to know why? It's just better that I feel hate instead of love for her. All I did was flip the switch and thats what got me surviving. The fear of falling down; and there won't be anyone to help me up. I've had to fight tooth and nail to get any self respect I once had back, I can't even look at her, without feeling some stupid stab of pain telling me "why did you fall for that one, there are so many other, but that one? Why? Why put yourself through hell again, if only to scare off another one?"
Damn... It slipped out... Well... Whatever, I'm going to keep venting till I get to the bottom of this. I don't care how long it takes, I'm going to self destruct my mind and heart and put myself back together till I root out any doubt in my soul that I've done the right thing. Like the title says, Guilt trip. Which means to get deeper and deeper into my pain till I can't get any farther and destruct my mind into billions of pieces, screaming my pain and sorrow till my bloodied face is nothing more then a horrid shell of misery.
No matter how you slice it, I've got baggage. I mean heavy as hell, deep seeded stuff that I want to get out in the open that needs to breath. the fact that I put myself through hell mentally and physically every day when I walk down that road. That I feel utterly and hopelessly alone, that I have to find yet another reason to keep living, and suffer the same pattern of my slowly decomposing sanity, to let the swords of pain pierce that much deeper into my soul till my eyes are bloodshot with hate and fear and nervousness, so that I'm unable to decide for myself what to do with my life.
If you still don't like what you're reading? Tough, it only gets worse from hear, it goes deeper and deeper into my annoyance... This is my eternal darkness that I must face everyday; and everyday, I find my self finding that my light to keeps going another day; to bounce up and tell the darkness to **** off. Because I'm cool that way. Now for the fun stuff. I must apologize in advance for any swearing or ugliness your about to witness.
People are touching my **** guitar, without my god damned permission. WHAT THE **** IS UP WITH THAT? First there was Josiah, not that I minded it much, but there is only so much **** **** I can take before I get pissed off, and I think I already touched on this subject... But, what the ****, it needs to be touched on again. Then another idiot had the balls to **** unzip my **** gig bag and start playing it right in **** front of me because he thought I wouldn't **** mind? **** that ****. If you start touching my stuff with out my permission, and no, I'm not stating that you have to ask me every **** minute of the day if you can breathe the same air as me, like you have to with blow up barbie (Eh... Go figure..) Because apparently, she has a god complex. I'm just saying DONT TOUCH MY **** GUITAR WITH OUT MY SAY SO! It's just that simple.
Another thing that irritates the crap out of me, is people who post comments that are advertisements. Normal comments are cool, but please for the love of god don't **** post an advertisement for penis enlargement pills or a site for a valentine that erases my whole profile, and adds a stupid **** storm cloud that **** out lighting. That's just the worst. All righty... That's all the venting I can do for now. I'm feeling at least a little better then I was five minutes ago. But not by much at the moment of posting.
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