The Fuelled Journal

The following work was written with little sleep, aided by alcohol, and initially recorded in a notebook. It follows here in an unedited format, that quite likely is of shady quality.

My life is in complete shambles. It is a series of lies, chasing each other into a deeper spiral of deception. It is untold hypocrisy, in which I am but the greatest fool. I am my own worst enemy. God, I cannot but help to use a well worn cliché. I am a walking contradiction, yet this in itself is most likely a falsehood, created within my conceptions of the world. Why? Well if it follows that my life is a series of lies, then other people’s perceptions of me must be false. Ergo, the perception of myself, shaped by others is false. I don’t even know if this makes sense. I both love and hate my current life! Why am I so confused?

I need someone to trust and discuss this with. It is probably why I endure her, even though I know that nothing could truly exist between us. I feel so disgusted with myself for dumping my problems, even the limited ones I’ve discussed, on others. In fact, no one deserves to hear me bitch and moan. I hate this aspect of my life. But I am a born optimist. I truly believe I am, thus I feel no wrong for what I do. Empathy is something I lack in almost every sense. I seem to believe it is due to my optimism. I can’t understand despair. Not in all it’s ugliness.

I need to find that special someone, who can, to some degree, share in my confusion. Someone I can have real discussions with. A smart, intelligent, beautiful woman. I may be asking for too much, I know. I can hang on to my romantic delusions, can’t I? Fuck.

All this writing is sporadic at best; it is no doubt confusing, and filled with gaping holes and hypocrisy. I’m sure it defeats and fulfills itself in a way that frankly makes little sense. I really must get a new laptop, one that will enable me to wander about and fill countless bytes with my meaningless thoughts. I always find my previous concepts to be both insightful and frightening. And they are far, far easier to record, order, and view in a digital format.

I’m wallowing in my own pit of self-disgust and pity. It’s probably sickening.

“Ambitions a tricky thing, it’s like riding a unicycle over a dental floss tight-rope over a wilderness of razor blades” – Matthew Good, Track 6 off Avalanche

I feel like I might be lost in some idea of a bad dream, although one that smacks vaguely of reality. Nothing seems real anymore. The world exists without me. My significance right now is nothing. I am nothing. Just a lost soul searching for answers that probably don’t exist. I am but a drain on society. A fool, whose ignorance is startling. And quite pathetic. Really pathetic. Most likely even more so, as I am sitting here, in the CU tunnels, drinking spiked coffee, writing about my complete uselessness.

I know, on some level, that none of this need apply, or even be necessary. I revel in perceived chaos, I create it. I seem to have a burning desire for it. But it appears to be just a cheap façade, my own cowardice to face but a fraction of reality. Parts of me have died more times that I care to count. A seemingly enormous number, without comprehension. I am filled with false self-pity, for I sadly feel none. I am trying to create this feeling, I think it may help me to escape this net I’ve spun around my existence on this ball of rock. The total lack of ambition that I now call home.

I happen to have a complete lack of ambition. I have absolutely no desire to accomplish anything. I want to be a writer, or photographer, or musician, or countless other things, yet nothing causes me to leap up and pursue. Nothing holds my attention for more than a few days. Should I force a path, and attempt to pursue it for a while? I’m starting to think I should. Hell, I could probably pursue writing, photography, and music simultaneously. The real question is, can I summon up the courage to be a hero, a hero to my own thoughts. Do I possess the constitution to achieve these tasks for even a month? I can say yea, but now I must! I have to burn the past bridges of failure, and start anew. From the ashes of a lifetime of failure and laziness a new fire must awaken, a fire of desire, of success, of daring, and perseverance. I can leave no room for failure, no bridge to retreat across. A gap exists, and it is one that I absolutely have to leap across, without fear. I fear only one thing, and that is failure. I have let this fear control me for too long. I will allow this fear to surround me, will embrace it, and finally learn to defeat it. It is the only barrier between me and success. Nothing else matters. I will conquer my fear, for it is but a self-imposed construct, existing only within my mind. To be honest, these new thoughts scare me immensely. They really do. The prison I’ve created for myself is so complete, so seemingly real that just thinking about escape has me retreating into nothingness.

It’s funny how easily I’ve created my own Hell. To be honest it’s been a long process, but it’s a process that was so completely without pain. Constant retreat into a pit of murderous snakes, without even conscious thought. Without notice. In retrospect, the ease of this descent is disgusting. It truly was a case of sight without vision. How stupid, how truly ignorant have I proven myself to be? I hoodwinked myself with such complete thoroughness. It’s almost comical. Once overcome it’ll hopefully be just that. Such utter foolishness. I can but laugh at so complete a tragedy. As Heinlein discussed in “Stranger in a Strange Land”, laughter is a defensive mechanism, one designed to help us cope with all the tragedies we face. To help escape the absolute pain that grasps us all at some point. It is put a part of our birthright as members of the human race. For all our individuality, we are all the same. Every single one. All the wars, all the meaningless fighting, the endless conflict, all over issues so perversely ridiculous, so useless. Such utter self-assured nonsense I’ve spewed, as if I was the self-appointed judge of us all. The grand marshal of the human psyche. I can’t even fully understand myself.

Why do I feel, on a constant basis, that somehow I am not only always right, but by some system of measurement superior to others? What is the root of this unshakable self-confidence I possess? No matter how many times I am wrong. I am lost, for I know not myself. I claim to by Promethean, no I actually believe on a deep level that I am a god. I truly believe I am. Yet rationally I am far from being one.