I used to have the kind of mind and imagination that could change the world, and make people happy. Not anymore, though. Now I literally curse god for not killing me in my sleep, every single morning when I wake up. I wake up my family, and even the neighbors. I've exploded in psychiatrists' offices and hospital waiting rooms more times than I can count, yet I'm still told to "buck up" or "be a man" or "stop being such a special snowflake." The government refuses to help me, the psychiatric industry wants to use me as a guinea pig, and doctors think I'm making everything up. Why would I "make up" this? Do you want to know what I call "going to bed?" To most people, going to bed means getting in the bed until you fall asleep, but for me, going to bed is drinking until I pass out, or going into the woods in my back yard and beating on trees with an axe until I simply fall out, exhausted, unable to move. Those trees are about destroyed.
Lots of people envy those with more money than them, or those who are better looking, or are more famous. Me, I envy the dead. The dead will never have to go through any of this ever again. You want to know who I really envy? Aborted fetuses and those who died before forming a single memory. This world and everything in it is wretched, filthy, disgusting, and rotten to the core. I wish I had no memory of any of it. I don't even know why I'm writing this. It won't change anything. Maybe I'm writing it for those parasite psychiatrists who can't remember my name, even though they canceled their lunch last week to see me. You cancel your lunch, but you have to ask me for my name again. Must be a busy life, eh? What exactly is it you do? Other than using people as guinea pigs so you can get that sweet, sweet money from those drug companies? Do you honestly believe that I don't know that you don't really care? Do you have any idea what I would do to you, if not for being under house arrest? Any idea? Oh yeah, I'm under house arrest due to my anger, but that's not enough to be considered disabled. So, yeah, how am I supposed to find a job then? You can't answer me that, and you can't answer me why you blew up the WTC, or murdered Kennedy, or faked the moon landing. You can't answer any of that. But you can tell me to my face that I'm "normal" and should have no trouble finding work, when I'm obviously not right in the head. And you have the gall to blame me for it? You think I don't know what you're trying to do?
Lots of people envy those with more money than them, or those who are better looking, or are more famous. Me, I envy the dead. The dead will never have to go through any of this ever again. You want to know who I really envy? Aborted fetuses and those who died before forming a single memory. This world and everything in it is wretched, filthy, disgusting, and rotten to the core. I wish I had no memory of any of it. I don't even know why I'm writing this. It won't change anything. Maybe I'm writing it for those parasite psychiatrists who can't remember my name, even though they canceled their lunch last week to see me. You cancel your lunch, but you have to ask me for my name again. Must be a busy life, eh? What exactly is it you do? Other than using people as guinea pigs so you can get that sweet, sweet money from those drug companies? Do you honestly believe that I don't know that you don't really care? Do you have any idea what I would do to you, if not for being under house arrest? Any idea? Oh yeah, I'm under house arrest due to my anger, but that's not enough to be considered disabled. So, yeah, how am I supposed to find a job then? You can't answer me that, and you can't answer me why you blew up the WTC, or murdered Kennedy, or faked the moon landing. You can't answer any of that. But you can tell me to my face that I'm "normal" and should have no trouble finding work, when I'm obviously not right in the head. And you have the gall to blame me for it? You think I don't know what you're trying to do?
