Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
The Hogs of Entropy 0969
,...
$$$$
$$$$T""P$$$ba, ,gd&P""T&bg. ,gd&P""T&bg.
ggggggggggg $$$$ $$$$$b d$$$$ $$$$b d$$$$ $$$$$b ggggggggggg
""""""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$bxxP&$$&P """""""""""
$$$$ $$$$$$ T$$$$ $$$$P T$$$$
$$$"""""" " """" $$$$$$ "T&$bxxd$&P" "T&$bxx$$$$$' " """"""$$$
""" """""" """
ggg "An Open Letter To Anyone I've Ever Known" ggg
$$$ by -> Phairgirl $$$
$$$ $$$
$$$ [ HOE E-Zine #969 -- 12/16/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ] .,$$$
`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
i'm not quite sure why i'm sending you this other than the fact
that you amuse me or make my day a little more interesting or simply give
me someone to look up to. any way around it, the matter remains only
this: that i would probably be dead right now if there wasn't a cat
sitting on my lap.
i believe i've finally fucked up my life once again and this time
for the worst. i have great dreams, great plans, and they're all once
again wasted and irrelevant and gone. i killed them. i buried them and
patted the last of the soil on top.
my life has gone completely to shit. my creativity level is at a
new low, and all i can seem to do is babble incoherently and remain as
far from entertaining as any human could possibly stray. my fifteen
minutes are long since over, in fact, i owe some back, as i squandered my
minutes and stole those of others.
there seems to be something inherently wrong with me, as i can't
seem to complete the most rudimentary of tasks but excel at the difficult
ones. it reminds me of the story my mom told me about this genius kid
that graduated with her class who killed himself shortly afterward. there
was nothing in his life but busy-work and bullshit, and he couldn't take
it anymore.
and so i find myself failing a basic computer class for the second
time... not because it is too hard, but because it's so easy that it's
stupid. i want my degree but i don't want to do busy work. i can't
comprehend why i have to spend 3 hours reading the most horrid text ever
written simply to discover that my project was to cut and paste a
paragraph and save it to a floppy disk. i can't take it. it makes me want
to put my head through the first plate glass window i find.
i've been told many times, "just get the busy work over with, just
sit down and DO IT and be done with it, and then you can move on." but i
can't move on. i can't just sit down and do it. i stare at the book, i
stare at the screen, i find everything so goddamn worthless that i can't
find any effort inside of me that would make me want to do any of it.
ahhh well, it was nice thinking i was going to finish a degree. it
was nice thinking that i might actually be doing something with my life.
maybe next time.
in the meantime, i always have my wonderful wendy's job to
continue. ahhh yes, this wonderful job that it is that i spend 48 hours a
week doing, 48 hours a week wishing i was dead. 48 hours a week with the
exact kind of people that i wish the earth would open up and swallow. 48
hours a week of everything i could possibly not want for my life.
and so, due to fuckheads, egos, and people i'd rather die than
associate with any longer, i am searching for a new job. i haven't done
this in four years. it's traumatic. i have this constant feeling that i'm
worthless because i've worked at wendy's for four fucking long horrible
years. i have this constant feeling that i'm worthless because i don't
have a degree and have to find some way to get a job that will pay my
bills as well as that fucking AWFUL wendy's job i currently maintain.
but it's not just the job that makes me feel worthless... it's the
people. i hate my job. i love so many of my co-workers. i hate so many of
my co-workers. i don't understand why i'm such a horrible employee that i
deserve to be watched under lock and key, yet another employee with a
much worse track record than mine is revered and worshiped... i have no
idea why.
i feel bad because i'm in this position where i can do so much for
the people i care about at work, and i feel i owe it to them, because
they're suffering from a bad rep. however, i also suffer from a bad rep,
so i can only do so much. but either way, i'm getting shit on, they're
getting shit on, and our best option would be to leave, but we're not all
strong enough.
strength... what a funny word that is. everyone quickly glances to
me as if i'm the end-all definition of the word, but i'm anything but. i
keep up appearances, and with good reason. you can only be taken
advantage of so many times before an iron wall goes up, that illusion of
strength that everyone seeks as if it were the pinnacle of greatness.
just ask houdini... it's all an illusion.
what nobody knows is that i'm dying inside. i feel myself becoming
more and more dead, so utterly repulsed with myself that i can't bear to
show my face. i think about it a lot, dying... it's almost become second
nature through the years, through my cyclical depression and elation.
there's just nothing to live for these days. and the only reason i'm not
dead is because there's a cat on my lap.
i have almost nothing to live for. i have years ahead of me to
complete anything remotely resembling what i would like to do with my
life. i am distracted by stupid things and consumed by apathy. and if i
had a gun, i would definitely be swallowing it now, as long as there
wasn't a cat in the room, because they're the only ones keeping me
afloat.
there are no people worth living for. i don't remember having
anyone whose shoulder was open for crying or anyone who would listen or
could understand. i refuse to go near professionals. i refuse to go near
chemicals. if all that assistance was what made me feel better, than who
am i to live for myself? if i'm just living out of someone else's
creation, am i really worth space? would i really care about myself?
i have this horrendous pride problem and bitterness with
everything in this world. i love to sing, i love to act, but i can't do
anything in front of a crowd. all i can look at is the sea of faces
seeing exactly what i don't want them to see, and that's me. the
horrible, ugly me that doesn't do anything noteworthy... just tries and
fails.
i have had so many dreams in this lifetime... i've wanted nothing
more than to immerse myself in music and life it and breathe it and swim
in it, to maybe taste fame and possibly what it would be like to have
money and not have to worry about it. i want to create wonderful things,
to be silly and sad, to be myself completely and not worry about who is
fucking me over.
i want friends. i want relationships. i want to do something i
like every day. i want to not have to worry about people and their
motives. i want to be open, i want to share, i want to be understood. i
want to want to live.
sometimes, i just sit and stare into space and let myself become
existential and debate my state of being. am i really here? can i be
somewhere else? will all of this horrible nightmare end and i will wake
up? none of this feels real anymore. i'm turning numb, and there's
nothing worse than the numbness. numbness drowns out the pain, but it
also drowns out life. it drowns out death. everything is the same when
i'm numb, and changing among those states only feels natural.
i think i've lost my ability to care about anything. i want badly
to care about people, because i think i should, but i can't get past
myself. my fucking self, as if i'm worth being a hurdle. i'm pissed as
hell about this world and the way people are treated, but i'm not doing a
damn thing about it. i'm too wrapped up in my own problems. i'm a
self-centered, hypocritical bitch.
i fucking hate self pity. i don't pity myself. i only despise
myself. i despise others who are full of self pity. i despise
manipulators. i despise people who use their problems as a means to an
end. here i am, dispensing my feelings, but not looking for anything in
return. i don't fucking want anyone's pity.
so what am i looking for... i'm looking to not feel this way, this
whole grand way. there's not much it would take for me to be even a
little happy, and that's the hardest part of all. i'm not asking for the
world, i'm just asking for a little bit of happiness, a little reason to
live, some kind of hope that i might someday be able to really accomplish
something and make my own life better.
i think i am asking too much.
if i had the guts to kill myself... which i don't, and that's only
because of this cat sitting on my lap... i guess this would be my suicide
note. this pathetic attempt at explaining who i am and what is going on
is all in vain. it's all a bunch of excuses, all a bunch of wistful
bullshit, all a bunch of tired eyes. it means nothing.
and to think this cat on my lap is the only thing that is keeping
me here... i can only wonder how long it will be until it gets up and
walks away.
[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #969, BY PHAIRGIRL - 12/16/99 ]
