Verbal warfare through radical ideals

Mine is the Grandeur of Melancholy Burning


Trampled.

Over and over again.

It’s what you’re forced to endure at the hands of someone you’ve placed your faith in. Almost as useless as the god of the people; the ideal of trust is one that is swiftly thrown into the garbage with the rest of the pseudo-morals people attempt to cling to. It’s as if I am begging to be constantly enslaved by a new market every single time I jump into the fray.

Whether it be my perpetual need for a distinct sense of purpose, or perhaps my even more blatant longing to be accepted by someone for my abilities and ambitions; I’ve once again  managed to be lured into the den of the unwanted enemy. When my own hopes turn against me, there are no places left for me to. I can only look on in remorseful disgust, and try to figure out why I keep doing this to myself. It’s a vicious cycle, that has turned into an abysmal linear pattern. It’s not a matter of time anymore, it’s a matter of finding an escape. I need out of this…whatever this is. I refuse to call it an existence, as I’ve yet to find out what it truly takes to exist in this life. Memories are nothing but collected reminders that it’s not just a struggle to find purpose. They are painful stabs at my psyche, telling me that not only am I not doing things correctly; I’m becoming more inefficient by the day.

I’m not sure as to where things started spiraling out of control. I don’t even think I care enough anymore to attempt to retrace my steps to the origin of failure. Looking forward seems much more productive right now, and with as far back as my immaculate memory can recall, I’m sure that the foundation for my failures is buried somewhere beneath the ashes of irrelevant mistakes. My adolescence is riddled with the missed opportunities of my previous self-esteem and moral compass. Both of these not only hindered my ability to think logically, they brought me lower than any human ever dared to tread. It seemed more often than not, that the only reason I found others to socialize with is because it was considered the pinnacle of normality to be surrounded by acquaintances, no matter how much contempt you might’ve been harboring towards the group, or its intrusive tendencies. The almost overbearing sense of insecurity compelled me not to make the first move, and shoved me into corners where I hoped that none of the “alpha-males” would ever bother to look for conflict. It was the feeling of being the rat, right down to the fear-induced survival instinct driving me into the shadows of social circles.

This tick, this ever vigilant complex is undoubtedly a source of my optimism. A catalyst for future fuck-ups, designed to systematically place a stranglehold on any causes that I may consider worthy. However wonderous I may have imagined my future to be, is not of where it has wound up. A series of safe bets, and ill-timed opportunities brought me to this moment, where I am left to try to decide what exactly it is that I want. However, it may come to surprise many a person to know that not only am I not sure of what it is that desire, I’m not sure I want it that badly anymore. It seems to me that far too many chances to be happy have passed me by to accept that one is coming anytime soon, and if it appears now it wouldn’t do me any good to attempt to recognize it with the recent flood of misguided fortune I’ve had. Chances are I’d try to chase everything that came at me, and fail gloriously in a foolhardy campaign of ambitious delusion.

I’m now going to end this post, with the thought that it will be easy to STOP looking. I can only surmise that by forcing myself into this mindset, I’m not only creating a dangerous isolation barrier between myself and others who might willfully try to help, I might even be severing my chances of being able to create intimate relations with another person. I say this merely as a foreshadow of things to come, because of my consistency in keeping an ethical code. If there are any reasons why it’s unhealthy to bring emotions such as empathy, pity, or disgust to rest…I can no longer recognize them. It does me no good to try to feel as others would, when no others have attempted to feel as I would. Melodrama aside, I simply cannot be bothered to exert any emotional resources to those who would recklessly abandon them later on. It’s a matter of protection, and I shall now exercise it.

I’m presented now with a conventional list of things I shall vow never to do again, if I should traverse further into this field. The first of which, is to never grant the courtesy of fond kindness, or relative comfort again. The second, is the promise of better fortune for those who I would guarantee success for. The sincerity that I put forth, is wasted on those who give less than a fuck for what it is I offer, and for that others shall know what their predecessors have forsaken. The third, is my now absolute resolve to NEVER be fucking ignored again. I’m sick of it, and the excuses that run rampant with this immoral show of disregard number far too great. I’ve no time for such atrocious behavior, and those who would seek to walk over me once more will be met with a friend of mine, known as disappointment. It’s one that I’ve finally let go of, and abandoned all hope of anyone ever presenting it to me again.

Frailty, thy name is weakness
Vengeance, thy name is pain
Storm through the still glowing night
Ember eyes beyond reason shall see

Flee from the safety of the sheltering sky
See all but logic, so vengeance shall be
The grandeur of melancholy burning… oh burning

-Jake

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2 responses

  1. We’ll talk on vent when I get back on Wednesday.

    July 11, 2011 at 10:28 AM

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