What does it feel like to go through life never feeling lost, never understanding the feeling of being lost, and never realizing the concept of being lost exists?
For what purpose is it that people draw hideously large and undue comparisions, like saying "being lost is like floating in an ocean meaninglessly"? Why is it that we have to endure the literal idiocy of others commenting on us drifters afloat in said "ocean"?
The only concrete answer appears to be advil.
It's funny how time passes and things seem to loop around. It's ironic how people change for better and for worse. It's truly idiotic how concepts and perceptions just die off, so unnecessarily temporary.
I can't say whether staying the same is good, or change is good. But change is constant, so isn't staying the same just a different form of change? Why do we try so hard to map out everything that happens to us? To systemize, to categorize, to analyze, all of these things might not have a point at all.
Nearly four years or so ago, I thought that change was necessary in order to achieve one's goals. But I wasn't aware of a constant factor that's always been in play in my life: my general ignorance and stupidity over the overall situation. Other people are stupid academically, weak physically, but none can compare to the epic amount of failure that I embody.
It's easy enough to think that change is necessary in order to achieve goals. It gets retarded when you move to the next step: how much change is needed?
I was what, in grade 9, fuck. My goals weren't "let's go get a girlfriend." or "let's go see how we can get a fucking gang of pals together.". My goal was "Let's get an education so I can provide myself with a stable life when I need it most." It sounded sensible, but it wasn't. Or rather, I should state, it was sensible, it was logical, and it was effective.
Just that I was weak, and fell prey to distractions. Fuck, even using the word prey makes it seem like I'm the victim here. If I'm any victim, it's victim of my own machinations. You can compute how much you change, you can compute the effects of your change, you can never compute how others react to your change.
Reminisce. I've done that a shitload.
"If I didn't do that there..." I would have never ended up in the crowd I ended up with.
"If I only worked harder here..." I'd have gone to a different school completely and skipped all of this bullshit.
"If I had tried to get off my ass..." I wouldn't be typing in English, I'd be typing in Chinese and probably QQing some guy in HK.
I feel like I've taken the wrong branch at every point in life. Writing out dreams is pointless. Mathematical equations are pointless. Understanding concepts is a matter of futility. Working out other people's problems for them is a waste of sympathy. None of what I do really matters. I can go into a faculty and I'll come out with nothing but a rudimentary knowledge.
"I am the Devil" - honestly, that statement never hit home so...directly. I've had so many people call me evil, cruel, vicious, hostile, for all I know half of those were jokes and the other half meant to be truthful reflections of myself. I know I'm cruel, and all of the above.
"The Devil, and not the main character of this story." - Ironically, I've never wanted to be the main character of any story. I've always done everything I could to relegate myself to the sidelines. I hate attention, I scorn the people who would give me attention. The few that I've become comfortable with, it's taken so long. I have what, 2 people I could actually call friends?
"Not the main character of this story, more like the villain." - And fuck, I've hurt people, I've done things out of spite, anger, and jealousy that I should have never done. The crazy part is that I can actually convince myself of a purpose for all my actions.
"But I don't expect an apology" - My creed is for people to never apologize. Saying sorry doesn't change matters. Saying sorry doesn't revive the dead. And you know what? Whenever I do something wrong, it actually turns out for the best. For them. Not for me.
I thought I was starting to understand people. I understand nothing.
I used to think that love was irrelevant, that it was just a byproduct of human boredom and a necessary ideal to make reproduction and survival more aesthetically pleasing. - and hell, I fell head over heels for a girl that I knew I had no chance with.
Was it the impossibility of anything working out the reason why I wanted it to work out so badly? When I became friends with her, I told myself that I should just call it quits. - I didn't, I pushed on until I finally pushed her away.
What was once a perfectly viable friendship became something that I personally destroyed. All destroyed because of a single impulse. - I had already become aware of the Devil that I was, and definitely she could find somebody better. Because I devoted so much time to her I assumed that she devoted time to me, to hell with reciprocation, I needed to push her away.
So I did, I played push and pull, I went schizo on her, I played nice one day, hardball the other. Had it gone on any further I probably would have broken her. - And all because I was comparing myself to everyone around me. There's no sense or logic to any of my actions.
So we each went our own ways. She was probably better off than I was, because of course, here I was mentally split into two. One side longed for her, one side decided that for her good, longing was a sin. - So why, why the fuck was I driven to accept her when she came back?
I needed to release this. I don't care who reads it. I don't care even if she reads it. - When she came back, I couldn't control it again. It's a fucking rollercoaster once it starts, it's not like an addiction where it eventually becomes routine, it just keeps going faster and faster until you hit the top.\
I should've seen the signs shouldn't I? I should've been able to read her through her words, through her expressions. - There was no chance before, there was no chance now. What was in front of me, what was there, was just somebody who was so bored they needed somebody who would listen to them and pass time with them.
I was a tool, played with, toyed with, and used. - Why the fuck didn't I mind? Why did I take a masochistic streak and allow myself to get utilized in such a fashion? There's never been any logic to this. I change so that I can suit her, so that I can meet her needs and expectations. Then the moment comes again.
It's been a year.
No, it's been 5 years.
5 years, and the same person.
I'm a hopeless fucktard, just a bastard Devil.
I can be glad, because she's found somebody that I hope she spends the rest of her life with.
As long as she's preoccupied with him, both sides of me can be content.
On one hand, she's happy, so I'm happy. On the other hand, she's found somebody better than me, so I'm happy.
People who tell me "you've got good traits", they don't know what the fuck they're talking about. They haven't seen the things that I have, they don't know what I've done. It's not even about how much I've hurt other people, because I have, and I know it. It's about how much I've hurt myself, and in a masochistic fashion savored it.
Five years ago I gave my heart to somebody who crushed it when she realized what she had.
When she came back I let her crush it again.
Toyed with, broken, pushed around, and all the while I was to think that I was the problem because of some guilt trip that I went through. It's worse than the Hellavator at the PNE.
The girl, no, the woman, she came back once again this summer.
This time I was semi awake when I "saw" her.
What I saw, in her tone, it seemed to be a tinted, distorted sort of apology.
Sort of like a "hey, I didn't mean to use you like that, but here's a consolatory prize, I let you spend time with me before. So uhh...wanna talk?"
Yeah, I talked with her.
I dunno if it was smart, but this time I made sure I shut her out.
I don't want to see this woman ever again.
At this point, perhaps it'd be better if no one ever reads this.
Or perhaps, it'd be better if only she reads this.
Because right now, at this moment when all of my anger is being released out, I'm thinking of all the ways I could torture her if she ever comes back. In the morning, when all of this is gone, enveloped into this post, I'll probably go back to my "If you're happy, then I'm happy" mentality. But for now, I have nothing but hate for this petty human woman who saw and took advantage of a twisted Devil.
Yeah. For now.
I've changed a lot over 5 years.
If I were given the choice, I probably wouldn't have opted to change.
There's people that I never wanted to meet.
There's people that I was never meant to meet.
There's people in this world, that because of my decisions, I will never meet.
The one person in the world that I wanted most, I'll probably never see again.
"In this story, there was a Devil who found himself trapped in a human body, and though he acted as he would normally, when he recognized himself he realized with horror the demon that he was, and as such shunned the world around him. But as others could not see him for who he saw he was, they continued to treat him as they would any other. When it came time for him to yearn, his actions had already closed the doors around him."
Such is the nature of the Labyrinth.
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