I have this
bubbling fury inside me for no reason except but for it to exist as a ferocious
reminder of all my greatness and all of my inadequacy. It stabs in the cavity
in the middle of my chest, between my breasts, and it stabs with anger and a
flaming ferocity. I want to punch something, to be angry at someone or
something" but I can’t. No one has done me wrong, not even myself. So why does
this feeling linger, this self-destructive, mind-consuming, insatiable emotion
of hate? I feel disconnected, alone, isolated, but more than all of that"
impatient. Trying to lose myself in music, film and literature doesn’t work, I
only reflect on the flaws of my life, the holes in which I let beauty slip
through; the missed opportunities, the dismissals of possible happiness. I snub
happiness, I snub it consistently and constantly in order to achieve a
heightened sense of being. Is this part of finding it, feeling like nothing
will ever be good let alone fine? Should I settle for what I consider as lower
in order to ease the strains of my mind and my soul? Or should I wither through
the suffering to come out of the unknown and hopefully one day find the
happiness I’ve been trying to find all of my life. Because that’s what I’ve
been trying to find, happiness. I have glimpses of it, tastes and visions of
it; but never an ecstatic momentous acknowledgement of it. I’m on the pursuit
of happiness and so far, all I have to show for it is a perpetual suffering and
numbing anger.