Man, I tell ya, I just haven’t had any fire in me to write lately. This constant battle is just wearing me out and no matter how much time or energy or force I devote to it I just don’t see any progress. I just get older and weaker and I get more fucking gray hairs. Can you believe that shit? I’ve got gray hairs. You see that happen to people after they go through times of extreme stress. Apparently I’m the only one who is bothered by the fact that Catholic priests are still raping children, extremely violent religious images are being shoved down the throats of innocent children, the most powerful nation in the world is being lead by a complete fucking idiot, and that same nation is on a rampage against the rest of the free world.
Whatever, nobody gives a shit. Nobody even believes it is true. Nobody does a god-damn thing about it. But it bothers the piss out of me. That alongside all the other everyday run of the mill issues like the starving children I have to see on a daily basis whenever I walk through the streets.
Then, to top it all off, I find out from a friend of mine in the Air Force in Iraq that he is unable to read the Death Pestilence page because it is censored. Apparently the U.S. Military doesn’t like its soldiers to read about the stuff that I have to say. Here they are, out in the middle of nowhere, risking their lives for FREEDOM AND LIBERTY and they aren’t allowed to READ WHAT I HAVE TO SAY!
FUCK!
What other line of shit is there for sale today? What other bunch of crap am I supposed to swallow?
And every god damned time that I go to the US somebody starts giving me shit about being a “Bad” person because I live a life they have no way of understanding. I travel around, get what money I can from teaching English and giving half of that to impoverished people, and I’m the fucking bad guy? I’m the bad guy because I dare to say Catholic priests raping children is wrong? Or whatever the hell else I say that pisses them off because it is in conflict with the short sighted idiotic moral majority of the US.
Who the hell are those people anyway to judge me and act like I’m the one whose in the wrong? Why the fuck do they think they have the authority to do that? Don’t they ever second guess themselves?
Of course not, they’re the “chosen” people, they’re the ones that God’s going to come and take just before Judgment day comes. You know what, I hope God does fucking come and take them, and I hope he leaves me here to help out with the poor, impoverished people who are left to suffer. He can take all those selfish self-righteous bastards to the happy land of eternal orgasm if he wants to, I want to stay here and help with the people who need it.
But oh wait, newsflash, God doesn’t even fucking exist anyway so there. And I think that any wacko who believes in somebody else’s definition of God should just.....
Oh, hell, I don’t know
Screw it, everything‘s a disaster and no amount of cool, calculated reason is going to make people see what‘s really going on. If they don’t want to see it, they won’t see it, it doesn’t matter how many proofs you have in your favor or how clearly you explain it. They’re all mixed up in their own fantasy world and they’re all happy and content to think they’re on a boat trip to never-never land when the truth is they’re on a crash course with the sun.
And somehow I’m supposed to believe it is still my responsibility to try and pull them to safety. It must be nice to be a rich drunk asshole partying on a luxury barge, content in the knowledge that there are responsible people out there who dedicate their lives to saving the ass of their deluded selves.
But I just can’t let them burn up, I can’t figure out why. I don’t want their praise, I don’t want their company, I hate and despise everything about them.
Oh well, fuck it, I guess I’ll just keep going through the motions. Maybe I’ll understand later, but for now I’ll just trust my instincts.
But actually, right now, my instincts are telling me to get a cheap bottle of wine and numb myself as much as possible. Ironically, moments of weakness when I numb myself are the only acts I ever feel guilty about (not any of the shit that my culture tells me I should feel guilty about) when I return to a moment of strength
I guess those are the only feelings I believe in. You’ve got to believe in something.
The End