During the 19 years
of my life, I've seen my fair share of crap, tried my share of crap, gotten
addicted to my share of crap, two of which still remain burdens albeit those
two burdens being something I can never see myself without. I smoke and drink.
That's it. Beyond addictive burdens, the social anxiety and mental depravation
and misanthropy are probably also somewhat noteworthy. But not to any large
extent. They just help make me who I am, they allow me to function.
The only problem I
have with the world, is the in grown hypocrisy. People call me a cynic, I call
it realistic and honest. Things that people don't value at all as much as they
say they do. Far from it, they avoid these things whenever possible. But even
so, I understand why. The world is a shitty place, and I would trade away all
my knowledge and experiences for blissful ignorance any day of the fucking
week. But people shouldn't say one thing if they really mean the other. That's
my problem with people, they say something without thinking about it. Without
having experienced the opposites. I've been there, I've been everywhere. I
tread the path of adventure, and the path was paved with gold, and every little
detour was filled with joyous surprises.
But then you get to
the end, and the fates reveal your truth. One truth. The one truth. Your path
is paved with five layers of the dead. Ragged flesh and blood-stained bones.
Forever stepping on those who sacrificed their lives to make yours possible.
And far into the horizon, you can see your goal, your final destination. And
the path is far from finished. Can you make the sacrifice to see the end of
your road, and can you live with it? It's a grim, yet oddly cathartic realization
of how life works. Everyone else is a stepping stone. Build your own road, or
become part of someone else’s. It's up to you.
It's a crazy world.
And I'm proud to be part of it.
Strange memories on
this nervous night. Strange dreams, strange aspirations. Strange hopes. Stray
hopes. My life eludes even me, I can't believe I'm still here. And that I am
not completely alone anymore, as I was just 3 short years ago. From the age of
9 to 16. Completely in voluntary isolation, because the world sucked, and they
did not deserve my company. And because I didn't deserve theirs. At all. It
really was a double-edged sword, to use a tired cliché.
I took up smoking
when I was 9, at school. At least I could be immediately adjacent to someone
during the breaks, and be a continuous victim of mooching, since I was
desperate for human contact, and everybody knew that. It cost me a pretty
penny, and my parents too. Smoking doesn't come cheap at age 9, and when you
give away 90% of your smokes, that doesn't help. So I stole. Nothing big, just
from my parents' wallets and the occasional shoplifting. Not enough to get me
in real trouble. After all, I was only 9. I didn't know what I was doing.
I took up drinking
when I was 12. Got some really bad moonshine off a guy that was desperate to
sell it, because it was unfiltered, and 12 year olds just looking for a buzz
are easy targets, they usually have no contacts. So I got it, for a price that
could feed a Romanian village for a fucking week, and went into the nearest
forest all by myself one night when the stars shone bright above, and the
temperature was tropical, and got absolutely tanked on a bit over a pint of
around 93% pure ethanol. For a twelve year old that's about enough to require
getting pumped. I also got unbelievably sick, because as said earlier it hadn't
been coal-filtered.
My late teens before
moving away to go to "high school" (I can't find a more suitable
word) was unfortunately well timed with a wave of mild, pseudo-heavy and heavy
drugs that flowed into our tiny tiny community. By age 15 I had experienced
sex, crappy 5 minutes in a bathroom somewhere with the village skank, I had
tried marijuana, hashish, shrooms, mescalin, opium, cocaine, ether (easy to
attain at your science class we learned), PCP, LSD, ecstacy and a multitude of
other rave-associated substances which is odd taking into account the size of
the town I grew up in and the fact that we never had any raves. I sniffed a
small amount of glue when supply fell short of something else, also sniffed
baking grease which worked surprisingly well. And then I got to try the killer;
heroin.
You will never
guess what substance is actually the worst to be on of all the above ever,
unless you yourself have some experience in being caught in a web of drug
addiction hell. And I won't tell you.
So there I was,
completely alone and constantly high on something that had a literally
corrosive effect on my brain, but I still functioned relatively well in school,
graduated from compulsory school with a grade point average of 5.1 out of 6. I
just didn't deal well with people. By this time at least, I had gotten out of
the destructive drug abuse, save for 2 which I have already mentioned. Alcohol
and cigarettes. And I'll probably carry those 2 with me to my grave by choice.
So then it was off to "high school", with a bunch of other 16 year olds
that were all complete strangers to me. I was the only one in my new high
school class that was from the place I was from. It suited me just fine,
although I was of course nervous, it gave me some peace of mind that these new
classmates would probably stick to their own already well-established social
conglomerates, and not pester me for anything. Until one of the guys started
talking about needing some booze for the weekend.
"Shit, a
possibility to make money" I thought. "I can't let this pass, I'm
fucking starving."
So I just turned to
the guy and asked him with a certain degree of subtlety and a genuinely serious
look on my face; "How much do you need?" To which he replied "2
litres if you can spare it." At all times I would have 50-70 litres stockpiled
somewhere, so yeah I could spare it, of course I didn't say that in fear of
surrounding ears that could listen in to our little barter. We agreed upon a
price, and a place to make the trade. And by agreed upon a price, I mean I said
it would cost him $30 a litre, and he gave me a disgruntled "fine". I
knew he would. He had said himself he was desperate, I could risk overpricing
it when I knew he was desperate.
Then after 3 weeks,
I'm the dealer of ethanol for the whole fucking school. I made shitloads of
money, and suddenly all these people want to "hang" with me, no doubt
for their own phiscal and/or social benefit. After a while, I started
exaggerating on the drinks on school nights, or spending too much time at the
local internet caf, and I ended up being absent for 72 days of a total 180. I
was of the belief that if I didn't show up and the beginning of the day, there
was no point showing at all. Mostly because I would be hung over the entire day
anyway, and not just the beginning. But atleast when I did show up, I was still
pretty apt at schoolwork, so I miraculously passed most of my classes, save for
math and German. And even those were just based on absense not actual academic
performance.
What also happened
after 3 weeks, was I got a call from my sister. Just a short while before that,
I had gotten a drivers license to drive a 125cc light motorcycle, and my father
had loaned me the money to purchase a Honda-ish thing that looked like a
Harley. Actually, it had a bigger gas tank than most Harleys do, at 13.5 litre
capacity. Anyway, she called me, she was crying, she told me her fiancee's
brother had just raped her. I didn't even let her finish talking, I just asked
her where the bastard was living, and I was off. She lived 800 miles from where
I did, I covered that distance on my pathetic 125cc in 4-5 hours I imagine. I
met up with my sister and her fiancee, her fiancee told me where the sack of
flesh lived, and we were off in his car.
The next 5 hours
are all blurry. We spent alot of effort keeping him alive, I remember that.
Death was too good for him. I consider myself a relatively respectable citizen.
Misanthropic and sociopathic and a multiple felon perhaps, but certainly not
dangerous. So when I came to, and what I see is a man drowning in a pool of his
own blood and vomit, his akilles sinews severd, nipples snippet off, ear lobes
missing, holes poked into his abdomen avoiding vitals, I was shocked, and I
threw up at the sight of it. Never before, and never after that, have I totally
snapped like that. Ever. And I still carry this huge sense of guilt because of
it. And I always will. Not because of what I did to that guy specifically, fuck
no I hope he contracts every venerial disease on the planet and survives them,
and becomes a walking cancer that plagues the earth, living each day until his
life is claimed by old age and heart attack in excrutiating sexually deprived
agony. It was just the simple fact that I, of all people, snapped. I had after
all kept my emotions under lock and keep for 7 grueling years.
So that was
something I carried to the end of my Cambridge year, which marked the end of
school for me for a year, which I spent "maturing". Unfortunately,
this period was spent at home in the town I grew up in, which was just one
great big hole of bad memories for me, so I locked myself into my room and went
online for about 8 months. I still blame my parents for that one, they should
have known better. They never did take the time to actually find out about what
I was doing when I was 12-15. They never got to know me.
Euphoric asocial
misanthropia. In my own way I was content with my isolation. I hated them, all
the other humans out there. They were capable of all kinds of crap, like raping
innocent girls. Or suddenly losing control and maim someone, not taking their
life, but making the rest of their life worthless. And I hated myself for
having the same potential. For being the same as them. I had already proven I
was not worthy to socialize with others, and the others could not be trusted
anyway. In a way I was better off alone. But it really is depressing to not
see, hear or touch another human being for 8 months, actually I had gone the
entirety of my puberty not ever touching a girl. Sometimes I think the only
reason I didn't suddenly flip and become a rapist myself was because of that
incident with my sister. Nothing in the world is lower. But you need one to
strike close to home before you actually realize that. Call me a cynic if you
must, it's how it works.
So after a year, I
figured I was ready for another go at school. Boy was I wrong, fortunately I
realized it before it was too late and dropped out in time to meet the dead
line so I didn't have to repay the scholarship all boarding school students
studying away from home are given. But that meant another 8 months of
isolation, with the internet as my only companion. Then I get a call from a
girl that was in my class. One of those that you secretly stare at all the
time, but never ever dare to ask out because she's way out of your league. Well,
in my case the only thing that stopped me was the feeling of inferiority in
general. I'm pretty arrogant, but I never felt like forcing all my burdens onto
others so a relationship to me was pretty much out of the question. But I had
secretly been staring at her, dreaming for 3 years. She calls me, and asks if I
want to come back to the city for the old class' graduation party. I had
misgivings, but finally I came to the conclusion that fuck it, it's a chance to
get good and hammered. The town I lived in was all dried up anyway.
I get there, to the
party she's invited me to, thinking there would be all my class mates. Turns
out it's a girls party, me and 7 other chicks with the ugly friend everyone
keeps talking about no where to be seen. Needless to say I feel uneasy. So I
start to get drunk, she starts to get drunk, she drags me into a corner and
sticks her tongue down my throat. Then she starts talking.
"I've been
secretly staring at you for the past 3 years."
Immediately I think
hey, that's my line. Then I start thinking about what she just said, and I
refuse to believe it. Is this where I get to have sex for the first time in 5
years? With this, the hottest chick in my entire school? No fucking way. Later
when the rest of the girls have left to go club-hopping, it turns out yes
fucking way. Literally. So we saw each other for about 2 weeks, she talked alot
about her ex and how much she hated him, they had been going steady for 2.5
years. She actually hadn't been around that much. Then I decide she deserves to
know my past, only if she can accept what I am can this really happen. So I
tell her. Bad fucking move. She freezes up, and I start to cry and go
downstairs and chainsmoke 12 cigarettes. She comes down and asks if I won't
come back to bed. Maybe she's come to terms with it, I think to myself
hopefully. No such luck, it was just to ease her conscience so I wouldn't stay
up all night and be a wreck the next day when she drives me home, smiling, lets
me off at my place gives me a smiling kiss good bye and tells me over short
message service later that we can't see each other any more on account that I'm
too depressive.
I feel like I'm
holding a pair of aces and a pair of eights. Just waiting for that bullet.
Hoping for it. Now I don't even count those 2 weeks into any equation. It never
happened, and she almost smothered any hopes I had for my life. One man and one
man alone is responsible for my continued existance. And later on, one girl.
Now I'm in my late
20’s, things are starting to go my way. Finally things are going my way. I'm on
my way to become a licensed house-builder, I have 2-3 people I can call
friends, and 1 I can call a true good friend, and 1 very special girl (my
Precious, I LOVE HER) I would take a bullet just to spend time with. I've got
everything I need right now, and I like it. I know it'll end, but that just
makes me appreciate it more. The path I made, the road I built, is starting to
pay off. And even if it's the death of me or anyone else, I will see it
finished.
