You’re All Cunts

To my ex wife
To my ex girlfriends
To my current girl

You’re all cunts.

To the 2nd AC who spent the afternoon watching the World Cup
To the 1st AC who let him do it
To the perks of rank

You’re all cunts.

To my landlord
To the government
To cops and nurses and barsluts

You’re all cunts.

To my sisters
To my parents
To Ariel
To myself

You’re. All. Cunts.

Most people are cunts. They’re heinous and horrific people unable to process that they are animals in a illusion of civilized society. They will betray their friends, fuck their kids and kill strangers based on nothing more than sexual access or monetary gain. Their ideas are blips of consciousnesses pinned to the infinity of natural chaos. Human rights, computers, God; all just whispers of words lost to the cacophony of screaming mating calls of every beast. We all are victims of our vicious human nature. We have all been fucked over or destroyed by the electrical spark of our synapses telling our loved ones to run off, drive drunk, fuck your neighbor, take a 9mm to the head.

Its all simple, and it ruins us all.

To the bloggers who see us as customers
To the forum posters who live off their keyboard
To the liars of their conquests

You’re all cunts.

I can write as much as I want. I can say whatever I want. I can tell you I quit smoking, quit drinking, banged a 10 in front of the Vatican. You may believe it or not. It won’t matter, because I know it didn’t happen. I can say my anxiety is cured. That I didn’t have an attack at work this Monday that crippled me. That I quit my job and decided to walk the earth searching for the perfect moment of serenity. I can say whatever I want, but I will always know that it wasn’t true.

I am a mess of mental scar tissue born of generations of breeding that should have never been. Somehow, the blood pumping through my heart survived and passed on the great power to collapse in a heap of fear at any given moment. My vices are my crutches, my go tos when I feel the pressure of reality crush down on me, no matter how lame or typical it may seem. My drinking and my smoking cannot be solved by simple means. I rush to them for comfort. I use them to get what sex I can. I reach out through my mental illness and hope to find someone not as fucked up as me.

And all I’ve found has been like-minded defects.

The extremes I feel I need to go to so I can solve my issues are also the extremes I feel I can’t take because of the “real” world. The things I feel, deep beyond the lizard brain, would land me in jail or get me killed, but I always think of them. I always see them as the solution to an everlasting aura of uselessness and ghost persona. Would they solve my problems? Don’t know. But when the brain says something, like cry like a bitch at work, I jump. We all jump. We all follow.

I can pretend things will change after this. I can say, like I have before, it’ll get better, but I can’t promise. I can’t lie. I don’t know right now if I can, not without a drastic and dramatic change. In the meantime, I’ll still work and feel worthless. I’ll still drink and smoke and get laid from human trash. I’ll still slog, but at least I’ll try.

I’m a pathetic cunt. But I am an honest one.

 

Believe Beyond the Pattern

 

Its never strange how life goes. Not when you look at your past, or the past of others, and find the patterns of why the same things happen over and over.

Why can’t I find the right girl?
Why do I feel bad about myself?
Why can’t I get ripped?
What’s wrong with me?

Its because you aren’t changing. Your actions are the same. There may be different words, different people, different places, but you are still pussing out from talking to the hottie next to you. You’re still refusing to even do a set of push-ups every few days. You’re still not sleeping enough, drinking too much, trolling your ex’s Facebook.

Its all the same pattern.

Somewhere down that line that runs into all your past actions, there was something that said, “Do this and feel better.” You had a bad day, a break-up, some kind of trauma and you fixed it with fast food, drugs, alcohol, games, or any other of the millions of things we have now to avoid having to feel pain.

Want to break this pattern? Want to start, slowly, but surely, changing yourself and eventually get to your goals?

Start with your most treasured vice. The thing you go to anytime the world drops a bit of rain on your parade, and THROW IT AWAY.

End it. Kill it. Stop doing it with extreme prejudice. And replace it with something you want to improve: social skills, muscles, tech skills. Anything, anything, but what you used to do.

This is how we change. We recognize our faults, we eat our pride and we move beyond the destructive pattern we’ve held on to for comfort for years.

This is how we live.