The mediocrity that is me
Sex and violence.
I wish I still had the swiss army knife my parents gave me
for my tenth birthday.
I have this intense desire to do something violent. I
want to slash and cut at something. Not myself, or any
other person. Like a tree. Or a desk. An inatimate
I want to take that knife and carve, cut into my desk
until there's a hole in it. Fill it with unremarkable
slashes, repetively, violently, until I'm completely empty
and can't do anything else but pass out in my bed.
Or I want to bang my head repeatedly against a wall.
Again and again and again, so the sound of it echoes and I
see bright flashes of light and my head aches and
bruises. I want to shake my thoughts up, out of my head,
concentrate on something else.
Or I want sex. No, I don't want sex. I want fucking. I
want someone to fuck me long and hard. I want to be
fucked until my thoughts are all slowly swimming
underwater, until I feel like I can no longer stand it,
and I'm going to pass out and die. Until I can't think
about anything but fucking, and my vision gets blurred and
I'm gasping for breath.
I need to do something right now. Something repetitive.
Something harsh, or real, or hideously ugly. Something that
correspondes to how I feel at this moment: angry at myself, and
very, very selfish.
I want to do something, anything, so I can feel empty again and just