Stuff - Prose and Rants

Rant on britain's drug culture.

I wish I could remove the ambivilance and misstrust I have in life. I desire conformity and individuality at the same time, but I feel restrained by stereotyping and generalisation that forever consumes society. My writing is probably depressing to some people, and mainly born out of those feelings. So if it makes you depressed, it's purely explaining this terrible, psychological condition to more people. If it's not depressing, it's at least empassioned with everything I feel. Sometimes, (not frequently enough) it is love. As a great american writer once said, to show passion means leaving yourself vunerable. However true and powerfully I love, however much I care about other people, I must suffer the consequences myself.

I believe true selflessness is to give up your own happiness and prosperity for the sake of others.

This may seem highly illogical, and crazy to you all.

I think it is.

I feel like I sometimes have to make the choice between, becoming what I can truely be in myself, or enjoying a hedonistic attitude to life as many of my peers do. I wish I could feel right, and satisfied, without being unhappy.

Depression brings me down to depths of feeling and despair which people may never want to enter themselves, but I consider it part of who I am, whether it be a condition or not. I feel so passionately when I am depressed, I love so corrageously, I give without asking in return.

I am also so self centred it makes me sick. I hate myself like this, I despise this attitude. And it thrives on itself. It becomes a mission, a "positive" thing for my mind to dwell on. I consider my purpose, to shield the world from it's own wrath.

Some would say depression is not a condition, but a feeling of dissatisfaction with the world we live in. I often feel so confused and misguided, I stumble through life nieve and as a victim. I long for an escape, but I feel drugs are not the only way out. How often people depressed with the world, escape from it's reality by synthetic happiness.

I will never believe drugs are true happiness. True happiness must come from within, from satisfaction in what life has to offer you, and what you can do with it. And when it shits on you, drugs are an escape. A valid escape, but nonetheless. An escape.

Exists

Refuses to move.
The dark cloud,
In my head like a thunderstorm

The rain trickles through my soul
Draining my life force
Taking my energy….

I can't do it
I'm not capable
Can't dry up the rain
Like a monsoon

It just keeps hurting.
Keeps stinging my eyes

Everything hurts

God, if you exist up there
Take me away from here
There's a better place.

I haven't seen it yet
But I believe it's there, somewhere.
Somewhere in my head.

Which is in my hands again.
Like a bitter heartache,
It consumes me.

A migraine that never goes away
Resentment, hatred, anger
Fuelled by more pain

The blood in my veins
Thick as treacle
Viscous and demented

Torment is all I feel
Enveloped in eternal
Damnation.

It's no one's fault
Just mine
Just my heart's
Just my head's.

A non-reality
A sub reality
A Surrealism

It's not real.

Whatever it is,
It's not happening to me,
It's not happening now

I feel sick again,
As if it would help.

It just began
And took me over

Eventually you have to give up
You listen to your head,
And then your heart wails with pain

And somehow it feels right
Feels true
Knows who you are,
What you were made for

It knows it better than you.

And you try to fool people.
Your mouth speaks what your head sees.
And your body tells them what your heart feels.

Your body doesn't lie

It throws things
It drops things

You can't concentrate
You start to care
About everything, (with yourself)

Not about anyone else.
Screw them.
They make you feel worse.

It's better to be alone.

You fuck up less.

It hurts less that way.

All I want is you

When I laugh and I cry,
here's one thing that keeps my hope alive,
when you are by my side,
all my troubles fade,
and you there, alone in the black.
All I want is you.

What is a dream?

What is a dream?
A heartfelt need that asks of you?
The infinate search for the truth of truths?
You need to keep the hope alive,
to carry on leaving, to carry on dreaming.

Singular Prose

Singular conscience
Same emotions
Same views
Same beliefs

You will be punished if you differ
You'll stand out, you'll be disruptive,
You'll get a name.

So everyone else can call you it.

Laugh at you…
You can be the butt of the joke.
The victim of the laughter.
The target of the abuse.

Indiduals perish,
So society can survive.

Materialism is the new black.

Different makes you weird.

Someone somewhere believes in love.