Who gives a F**k? - A Poem in One Part and a Poet in Many Pieces
I'm in a black mod today. Dark, dank evil. A "fuck you" mood. A "kick kittens" and "piss on babies" mood.
I'm angry. Angsty. Regretful. Defeated. This is not, contrary to some perspectives, my normal state. This is my now state.
I could care less how to be nice and play well. I want to wail and rail and whine and shake my fists at the apathetic world.
This is an expression of rage and frustration. A statement of loss and regret. I am not who I want to be. I can see that person.
I imagine who he is, but I am not he. I will never be that person. That goal is unattainable. That goal is shit. That face is false and the belief that I would be happy and content as that person is false as well.
I am not a perfectionist seeking the best in all and every effort. I claim to seek excellence yet I fail to accept my performance. I cannot be happy. I must strive for better because any goal I hit is a goal set too low.
Can I medicate this? Can I sublimate this? No. I need this. This drive. This desire. It makes me feel. The pain makes me remember I am alive, remember that I am me.
The bed is made. The position preordained. I must accept it one day. Maybe on my dying day I can, but I doubt it.
My limits are legion. My strengths finite, but my ambitions are unlimited and my failures aligned.
I want to be a petulant child, forgiven his outbursts, his cries for attention.. but I am a man not a boy.
Sharing such thought is taboo. Weakness. Failing. Inadequate.
I am unhappy.
I am dissatisfied.
I am defeated.
This facade I wear is not strong enough to hide such emotions.
I can go through the motions.
I can play the strong one.
I can act the better man, but in the end I am not he.
I am me.
Disclaimer: This is a poem.. not a blog entry about my present state of mind..