Venting Penny For Your Thoughts

[SendAndDelete]

I've spent a long time teetering on the edge, lonely and alone, hurt or scared. The feeling of sunlight on my closed eyelids still feels alien, it's so pleasant compared to my natural state.

Way back when, as a very little girl, I was lonely. My parents were young and were not ready for the responsibility of two kids, they fell far apart in good time, always at each others throats.

I don't blame them for my upbringing, I genuinely don't think they could have done better, I was just born into this life, just as I have flaws, so do they and so 'did' they, they were still growing. They are different people now even from a couple of years ago.

My father lived away from most people so at his home, which he insists is also mine, I did not get to have friends over, even if they were willing to make the trip. Not even cousins could visit, he seemed ashamed of the state of his home. I did not see the problem.

There, I also had a small room and to avoid clutter I could not keep many toys there, or much of anything.

To be honest, I do not remember how I spent those days, he wanted me to play outside but I did not want to be alone and he did not want to play with me. So we were at an impasse.

My mother's house was different, I had a bigger room with a lot of toys and books but she never played with me either. I think I learned to settle early on, I learned it was better to be alone and in a daze than lonely and aware.

My father's hesitation to invite others into his home was something I learned, it made it hard to make friends, I couldn't play out alone at my mother's and it felt odd inviting others around.

I did not have a bad upbringing, I just couldn't break through and force myself not to be alone. Even now I only have a single friend. Because all relationships are hard, I learned that from my parents.

I had good opportunities, I was a smart kid and my parents worked hard but I don't think I ever fell into the right place and that makes me tired.

I'm always so tired. Through the good and the bad. Rain or sun, I can't wait until the day I crawl into bed, fall asleep with the sun shining through my window onto my face and never wake up again.

I am tired because I know I have it good but I'm sick of it all nonetheless, and I think that makes me a bad person. Not in a 'you should strive to be better' kind of way, but more in a 'I have a poor nature and I no longer feel guilty about it' way.

I can't wait for a long, long rest.

 

[SendAndDelete]

I'm here because I feel like writing again but I still don't know how to properly put my feelings into words. Some days I feel alright and like things will turn out alright but for the most part it seems as though a gloomy cloud follows me around overshadowing the good in my life.

I'm now working, but I'm a lazy person and working makes me miserable or rather the responsibility of working makes me miserable. I'm being paid for my work with money I need but I hate that to work comes with a need to be there everyday. I hate that eventually I get bored of everything and I know that given that choice I would eventually stop working altogether. I hate that not working during these years of my life would make it harder to get a job later.

I hate that I will need a job later. I hate that I need money to sustain myself as a little girl one of my biggest wishes was to be a ghost, never eat, never sleep, never need anything again just free to roam around. Instead I'm human and humans, even and especially myself are just to complex for me to understand and do I'd rather give up than try.

I see people and feel as though they manipulate me that they try to strongarm me into doing what I cannot it do not want to do. I see it in so many people, people who I also think should be good, but I'm not in a position to see them that way.

I wish now that I could put the mind and memories I have now into the cold version of myself, re-live my life and spend it how I'd like without worrying every day about things a child's needs not worry about.

I give up, responsibility is not worth it, no thong in this world is worth living for when I am who I am right now.

 

[SendAndDelete]

Am I a good person?

No, I am not. I am, of course, capable of doing good things and I do not consistently choose the wrong path however I shall define this good and bad debate a little more clearly.

I recently purchased for a friend of mine some glasses, her poor vision means that without such an aid, she cannot read. I did not deliberate on this and I had insisted that no repayment be necessary. Is this in itself a good act? I would think so however, I took this action lightly, I did not place value on it myself. I simply did as I did because I have the means to do so.

On the other hand, when I was in high school during a wood-tech class I spied a £20 note on the floor. I suspected with some confidence that said money belonged to a friend of mine sitting at that same table. I slid it under my foot and picked it up when she was otherwise engaged. I kept that money wholly for myself and never told her.

In essence, I stole it.

I thought more of this choice, I could have returned the money, I could have pretended not to see it but I chose for myself to take the money that did not belong to me.

I engaged more with a negative decision, I willingly ignored feelings of guilt or apprehension and made a choice. This choice had more of an impact on me and I do not and did not feel guilty for taking it.

I am capable of doing good things and when I do such things, I do them purely as a token not a transaction. I expect nothing in return. These acts mean very little to me, whereas when I do bad things they mean much more to me as they are typically selfish.

I appreciate the bad choices I make more than the good ones. I feel that being a worse person is inherently more valuable and fulfilling than being a good one and with this I feel that regardless of all the good things I do, I will always be a bad person.

 

[unwilling_lich]

fellow teen pregnancy baby, i feel u so much, i dont blame my parents for the neglect, as much as it sucked and is kinda straight up the cause to most my problems, im not mature enough to raise a kid either and im 12 years older than she was and not trapped with a man who abuses me

also i dont mean to contradict how u feel, but yr description of doing good and bad things sounds like some good person shit, the good yr doing u do because of course u would, its not even a question in yr mind. while the bad u do is like takes actual processing and shit.

might be a generalization but bad ppl dont think theyre bad. good ppl do fucked up shit sometimes but r still capable of good

 

[SendAndDelete]

fellow teen pregnancy baby, i feel u so much, i dont blame my parents for the neglect, as much as it sucked and is kinda straight up the cause to most my problems, im not mature enough to raise a kid either and im 12 years older than she was and not trapped with a man who abuses me

also i dont mean to contradict how u feel, but yr description of doing good and bad things sounds like some good person shit, the good yr doing u do because of course u would, its not even a question in yr mind. while the bad u do is like takes actual processing and shit.

might be a generalization but bad ppl dont think theyre bad. good ppl do fucked up shit sometimes but r still capable of good

Haha, yes I do see how it could sound that way but to put it simply, though I do good things without hesitation or thought, I much prefer the result of doing bad things. They are choices I made for myself through my own cognitive process and though they may be wrong in a moral sense, I see more value in them and thus identify more with them.

Though I can do good, the good I do is not valuable to me, it is simply extending a branch whilst I already have plenty enough for myself.

 

[SendAndDelete]

Life is such a blur, I spent my childhood wishing to be grown and I'll spend my adulthood wishing to either be a child or to be dead. I want what I can't have and everything I have in the meantime heads speedily towards a certain end, but only when I remember it. Living in the moment seems to take ever so long.

There's a park in my village, it's situated behind my grandmother's house, who died last year. There's a bench I can sit on there, it is adjacent to the hedge bordering that house's back garden. When I sit on that bench it's like the whole world is debating whether to swallow me whole or abandon me entirely.

When I'm sat on that bench, the clouds can move at break-neck speed or creep so slowly across the sky it's as if they don't move at all.

Sometimes the entire sky is grey, there's no texture and barely any variety in the shades of grey that hang heavily above.

Sometimes it rains, spitting, a wet mist or a thunderous downpour. You can see the weather from that bench, it often seems like that bench is the only place where I can see the world.

In front of that bench, as with so many parks, is grass. Grass so green I never believe it's real, not even when I'm staring straight at it. That grass that winds moves through leaving it dancing. The grass that on a hot Summer's day can stand as still as the gravel footpath beside it.

That grass, so close in front of me, the grass I don't touch, the grass I stare at wishing I didn't have to go home.

When it's sunny and windy, well that's the perfect combination, fluffy clouds straight out of a painting drifting at a leisurely pace, grass that sways in a delicate and warm breeze. A bright blue sky and a bird that always circles over head.

I don't often get a chance to see the world but on that bench I feel that sometimes I can see everything.

 

[SendAndDelete]

I'm clearly uncomfortable with change, even more so with responsibilities and especially so when it comes to unpredictability. If every day were forecast to be the same, only changed by my own actions then perhaps I would be happy. Or maybe I would be miserable for being the only one with the ability to make a difference a responsibility I'm not sure I could ever handle.

My job requires I do not make mistakes but mistakes come naturally to me. I want to be perfect, the stress of not being so bothers me far more than I would like to admit. When things go wrong I try to brush them off as inevitable and when I'm chided for missing a beat I pretend that it's okay and I expect myself to do so. In truth it really bothers me.

I don't simply wish to die or disappear because I'm sad, it's because I don't want to face a world in which I know I'll never be the person I want to be. Because I know that in this world I will continue to make benign mistakes and still have to defend myself against myself for them.

I don't want to image living another 70 to 80 years where all my defining moments will be the ones where I fuck up. Imagining the future makes me so tired but if I don't die and I don't at least try to plan for it, then I'm bound fail even worse.

I have already made plenty of mistakes and missed plenty of opportunities, ones I will never get back I can't dream of the opportunities that will come in the future and so I know I'll miss most of those too. I may as well be paralysed that I keep myself from doing so many things or don't even think of these things.

I want to die because it's easier than living but living in a way that leads swiftly to death is difficult too, more difficult than placidly waiting for life to pass me by. I am just not that great of an individual to take care of this particular want myself.

Because if you want to die, but fail to do so often your own actions, life just becomes that much harder and I am trying to avoid that.

The brain can do a great deal, it can control a lot of things, I think it is a shame we can't simply have the brain tell the heart and itself to shut off. How easy that would be.

 

[SendAndDelete]

A certain saying comes to my mind quite often as of late, that life is too long to be lived alone.
I suppose it is true only I wish it weren't so. If humans weren't so needy, perhaps we would be happier.

How does one become happy? Why is it that we can be happy without perfect circumstances or is it that we have all simply learned to settle for what we can get?

Is settling a bad thing? Ought we claw at ourselves for anything less than perfect? I'm not asking if we should be able to achieve perfection or if our not achieving it is worth celebrating but rather, what is the measure of our happiness.

What is it worth? We do settle because life is not perfect, but in that case by what do we measure what makes us happy, how much can we concede before the little things aren't worth it anymore?

At what point is life so imperfect that we can no longer be happy with it? We can be happy to spend time with our family, happy to briefly see them, happy just to hear their voice and yet at times none of this is enough.

Is there nothing I can truly understand?

 

[SendAndDelete]

Writing all my posts here exclusively makes it feel like a record but I also just don't want to post here, there and everywhere. This collection and all my rambling, it's nice to view it all at once. I'm rather tired this time, I could plant my head on my pillow and sleep for a day and a half if I didn't have work.

But I do work, the money's fine, it's nice not having to worry about affording food and since I live with a parent, bills are a non-problem. I'd like my own place but I can't afford it, guess I'll see what the future looks like.

The work is tiring, hours are only 9 till 3 but it's physical I'm always ready to lie down when I get home. This job is relatively new, just a couple months new in fact. It's been illuminating but my health isn't great, I don't know how long I can keep it up.

Some days are better than others. The days that aren't great will either drag on for an age or disappear as quick as they start, in a dense fog.
Today I admitted to myself that I missed being a school kid. I won't lie, I hated school with a passion and everyday was an uphill battle, I was too young to know what to do with myself, too scared as well.

I'm still scared, scared of what fresh, new hell awaits me tomorrow, at least I know the demons of yesterday. To die-to sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream. There's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dream's may come?

I'm not a frequenter of historical works, I never even knew the full quote until a week ago when I googled it but I suppose now I understand why this quote in particular stuck with me. Still I'd prefer a nightmare over this living torment.

I'm too tired to write anymore, or to try to be coherent but at least these words will be here when I am more awake.

 

[SendAndDelete]

I spend a lot of time reminiscing, but I tend to remember the same old things. Then when I remember something different I am surprised. I remember a great deal from my childhood, many memories tied to a string that I can tug to the front of my mind at any time.

Sometimes those memories get tangled with something else and I recall that too, then it falls loose, slips to the back of my mind and I forget it again.

The things I remember, they could be actions or clothes, day trips or dreams, mistakes or triumphs. I remember a lot but when I remember more than I'm used to it feels strange like there's someone else shovelling in my head, digging things up which are meant to stay buried.

I had thought this before, but I'm not so much myself as I am an observer to my own life. It seems like someone else has been piloting this body and I've only recently gained control. I've seen the world through these eyes for decades and yet only recently do I feel that my actions reflect who I am.

It makes the life I've lived so far feel less valuable yet it is precious to me still. That contradiction makes me uncomfortable.

 

[SendAndDelete]

I have a lot of nightmares, the kind you don't get to wake up from, one's with a narrative that's don't end until the story does. Sometimes they're cut short, I never know whether to be glad when they do end sooner.

I don't know where they come from, I don't know why my brain makes them up, I both wish I didn't have them and at the same time find them so interesting.



I had this dream a while back once, never thought I'd have it again, really wished I wouldn't.

I don't remember the details, just the main parts. I was still in high school at the time and I was walking there. Along the sides of the roads were bodies, bloody with open wounds. My classmates.

I got to the main gate and considered not going inside but someone I know noticed and waved me over. There was some kind illness going around. Something to do with blood, I don't really know anymore about it than that.



Later on I was running through a rather large house, people were yelling something about freedom, not being slaves.



I was armed with some kind of automatic gun and a knife. I ran into one of the rooms and found a dead man and a pregnant woman. There was a language barrier. She yelled and I tried to quiet her. I almost fought her before I realised she was with child.



I begged her to stay quiet, she wouldn't. So I put the gun to her head and brought her to another hallway. She still struggled but did not shout, due to the gun.



We reached a door in the hallway, it was my way out, I tried to communicate that she should come with me.



I knew if there were more of my people in the house they wouldn't spare her. I wasn't going to either, until I realised her current state.



I took my hand away from her mouth, and lowered my gun to show I didn't want to hurt her.



I watched her take a deep inhale and then she screamed.



She shouted so loud you could hear her from the furthest point in the house.



So, I pulled her back to me and I slit her throat.



I stepped out of the hallway into my escape route, I ran.



Then I woke up.

I don't know why things happened the way they did in that dream, I don't even know what I was doing. I suppose it is better not to know.

It isn't as if I'm always the aggressor, I often am not, still that nightmare bothered me because of course it would.

I can only hope that I don't have it again. Sometimes I remember that I've had a dream before, even whilst dreaming again. Sometimes remembering changes the outcome, sometimes it doesn't.

I have to dreamt as much this last year, the dreams I have had, I tend to forget very quickly, that may be for the best.

 

[SendAndDelete]

Haven't written anything here in a while, suppose I don't really need to. I'll just leave this here, better here than saved on my phone.

I'd like to win the lottery and I would like to be loved endlessly.

To live without struggle, without needing to struggle for it.

To be handed silver spoons on silver platters.

To walk as I'd like to walk.

All the things I'd do, not so different from any other.

But the things I'd do, I'd do for me, myself and I.

God and his free will, has willed us to each other.

And instead of powers greater than me, I bend to only the powers that be.

And a great discourse within me speaks.

To rival men, to keep my peace.

What peace is mine when I hunger so?

But that of the peace of quiet woe.

When hungry nights I lie awake.

Another man licks clean his plate.

And when I step outside broken home.

He drives a Bentley to and fro.

And better yet I have not close to the worst.

As those next door go hungry.

I lie awake with tired eyes, wishing that daylight never arrives.

I, in my peace, feel misery.

But better still to lay with it than work a whole day through it.

The feeling that consumes me, consumes my food as well.

It keeps my stomach empty and my soul just as well.

And with my hunger, I feed it more and the more it feeds, the more it starves.

I sense the world, how it flows around me, careful not to touch, nor even see me.

All good things flow to the centre, yet the whirlpool of it keeps me out.

I watch it focus about some folk, and wonder should I ever seat in their place.

And wonder secondly, is it my fault?

And I wonder thirdly, have I done this to myself?

 

[SendAndDelete]

It's a new year, another year anyway. Odd celebration nowadays. I'm tired, really tired. I'm also in a good mood though I think that's just how you get when you go without sleep. When your brains too tired to think it's miserable.

It was a clear sky last night, tonight's sky not so much. I swear I could see every star there is to see from this planet last night. I wish I could get closer, imagine flying freely through space, it's such an empty vacuum you're sure to get lost.

But, it's also a place of infinite possibilities, our planet exists here, along with all its people. Wouldn't it be wonderful if, on an endless drifting adventure we found life on another planet much like ours.

That's all well and good but it's the drifting here that's really magical, the freedom to search without end, to not fear hunger, to never thirst, to never tire.

All the things I love, I could partake in forever, never needing to rest. But, then surely I'd reach the end some day. The end of my interest, the end of it's production, having explored every avenue, what then, would I do with the rest of eternity?

Even without hunger I would surely starve, less and less would stimulate me and my mind would harden into rock.

Without thirst my eagerness to explore would dry up, why leave when I don't need anything and no longer want for anything either.

And if I never tire, what use would I have for peace.

To not be human, a blessing and a curse, a thing I wish to know the most and will be blessed to never experience.

Stupid human.

I still tire, I hunger, when water meets my lips I cling to it and call it life. When I look up at the sky I can only dream because my human body can never take me that far.

 

[SendAndDelete]

I suppose things have taken a turn lately. Not that I'm usually a happy chappy but they say when bad things happen, they tend to happen all at once.

I'm out of a job, isolated from friends, my mother has cancer and another family friend has offed themself. My own health isn't great either.

The strangest part is that, I hardly feel a thing. Every now and then my eyes well up or my chest tightens but between everything that's going on it's as if I feel nothing at all. Like I'm half numb, which is a different kind of misery.

I wish life were a switch, turn it off when the noises of the machinery gets too loud or when the lights are so bright they hurt your eyes.

I'm not sure I'm even living at this point and so I have to wonder then, what am I doing?