Friday, July 1, 2016

the modern dilemna.

this is a junky. hi, everybody! who's got the stash? cash??? but i said "stash". stash! stash!

my name is junky!
i accept that i am on a bed, being my old junky self.
i accept that i reject all else, except
everything that i do accept. i accept that i'd rather reject all i accept.

i am a junky, after all. junkies are notorious for being lame.

i accept that i do not tame myself. i accept that i am ashamed of myself. will the shame stop the suffering? if i take care of the abuse, will you take care of stopping abusing?
if i say, "this is all my fault and i deserve to be hurt," will that appease, and all the hurting will stop, and i will accept the calm to follow, unless i go seeking abuse, then i will accept i am undeserving of kindness, and then i'll get my wings?
will i be good, then? will i surpass expectations? will i be pat on the head? will i be shown care?

and when shown care, when i reject being shown care, and i find myself in even more trouble- trouble i deserve for being so defiant- will i get life in prison or the death sentence?
i accept i will get either life in prison or the death sentence
if i continue to reject the true love of violence. i better learn to love the beatings. i better.

i accept that not loving the beatings will only make me miserable. once miserable, i will never find happiness. do i make this clear? what, am i retarded? don't i want happiness?

this is part of the process. this. this business of emotions surfacing for my own good. this is the first step toward happiness.
i accept i reject only my own mind and i accept that my mind will eat away at itself as a result. this is what i need to do, right? this is what i see every other person i see doing and they seem perfectly happy to be unaware; ignorant. have they repented for the anger of others; for not shutting up, for being horrible, for pointing out facts, for seeking attention, for not doing like how other people do, for being filled with rage and unsure how to handle it, for not treating myself like a protagonist, for not just cutting the crap, for not meeting expectations? am i just behind in the game? is that it? i must be brain dead to be so behind.

one day, i will learn how to stop being awful, and accept injustice, bare the burden of injustice, and it will be lovely. all my plants will die. my dog will die. my dreams will die. i will not die.

my name is junky. i accept that i don't know the origins of my name except "it's all my fault".