- Jee Juh Contest! AIWASS - Thelema
I’m helping a couple friends out, trying to help them win a rap competition. Check this video out, and if you can, like and favorite it on the YouTubes!! I shot, directed, and edited it.
I don’t want to be concerned with this petty shit anymore. I don’t want to look in a mirror and obsess over little imperfections. My teeth are bad. My skin is blotchy. I always look tired or strung-out. So what?
I want to let go of all this guilt. It’s like I’m not allowed to feel good about anything ever. There’s this little voice in the back of my head that only speaks up when I’m in a good mood. What the fuck is wrong with you? He asks me in disgust. You don’t deserve to be happy. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
So, I don’t. I look at mirrors instead, picking apart every little thing that I’d change if given the opportunity. That’s my go-to method, anyway, when nothing else can suck the joy out of me. I suppose it’s an act of escapism, too, because it’s easier to hate myself for that petty shit than it is to relive every bad decision I’ve ever made.
I guess it makes me hate myself less in some weird way.
I try to make peace with myself. I try to be kind to the people I meet. I try to actually listen to them when they speak to me. I try to be around when somebody needs me to be there for them. I try to be a good brother and I try to offer advice when I see a bad situation on the horizon. I try to make my girl happy. I try to make her proud.
And it works sometimes, too, when I’m not really paying attention. I can actually see myself as a decent guy sometimes. But something always knocks me back in my chair and I’m left to my own devices (which has historically been an awful thing for me). I’ve spent the better part of two years trying to rebuild my identity and change the way I live my life. And I have! I really fucking have.
But the memories linger.
I thought that the petty shit was what I hated most, but it’s really not. It’s never been that. What I hate most is not being able to fix the things I’ve broken. I can’t let go of these things because I don’t deserve to let them go. I deserve to feel bad about them. I deserve to be reminded on a regular basis. If I didn’t, then I’d be an even worse person.
It’s a delicate balancing act between contentedness and sheer depression. I’m constantly tugging in two directions, and whenever I have a moment to myself, I reflect on things and sigh out loud.
What the fuck is wrong with me?