The demon and the Man-Boy

I am beginning to hate my writing again, which is a good sign to take. Its what closed me up and made into the whiny, driveling little corporate whore I am today. I looked to deep, saw the voices were not really there except for a retarded little boy who was in control of the dangerous seat of my heart. I closed the door and didn't look back until the voices and the hope returned. Five years later the doors are wide open again, and while the fear has passed, the utter disdain for the contents of the room have finally become realized.

I literally locked up a demon that whispered words and thoughts I voiced too often over these years to me hoping for the gates to open. Now that they are I see he has just cowered into the corner and is too much of a faggot to come out and play. I want to kick the little fucker square in his jawline for being such a persistent pain who had some of the sole forms of hope I had recently, but I also locked up knowledge of something up in the process of locking that literal demon away. That now has come swimming back to me like some hellish dolphin in a twisted episode of flipper, I forgot about the fucking man-child sitting in my heart. The little retard that when something gets my heart and emotions a fluttering starts up like some hypoglycemic imp with a bag of skittles. He then begins to a spastic run around the contents of my head screaming "WHOOOOO, BUTTONS!" and proceeds to crash all the systems in my head. This was all easier to accept when I had some dark voice lying to me whilst not realizing why I had just metaphorically shit my smarty-pants. But no, I had to open the box, and see the mess I left behind. Guess I must be growing up finally, and I think I may be growing up into a grumpy hermit.

I do see who I really am, what to say, but it's getting clouded by these disappointments and distractions. I need to kill the coward and control the boy, wish I could leave a gun somewhere in my head and see who has the balls or the stupidity to do it themselves but I cant seem to find and mental weapons even for myself to wield on this one.

I need to speak these things, need to explain the demon to someone and that little shithead that makes me do stupid things, I need someone to notice them too, but alas, no one seems to do that or afford me the opportunity to say them. Everyone smart enough to get it is too wrapped up with their own lives or anyone empathetic enough to see it is too dumb to comprehend. Maybe I am assigning labels, but I cant seem to understand it otherwise. I am perhaps being a picky bitch hoping for the perfect moment, but I feel like that is what is needed. A perfect moment is what finally opened these doors, but I cant seem to reclaim that. I cant seem to be important enough for a muse to find me right now. Then again, maybe that child in my heart is making me impatient and I am spiraling downward in some infinite loop of my own making. I need mental weapons and I cant seem to find em.

I tried making a list today of all the ideas I want to change in people's heads. I knew they were there, but when I went to write em down, I couldn't think of anything I want to change. Better yet, I couldn't comprehend my audacity for wanting to do that. My idealism far exceeds my arrogance. This is why I am writing, why I started this blog, why I wanted to write my book. Deliver a bitter candy of thought, but I don't know why it's bitter, and why anyone wants a candy anyways. I don't make much sense I know, but it makes sense to me, the reason why I give a fuck to why anyone else does is beyond me.

Zach, maybe you should stop reading this drunk while taking a shit and call me out. Fuck anyone needs to call me out. Justification is the fuel and I am burning out.

I am high maintainace, but I am starting to feel that's not too much too ask. I want someone to do the exact same things I want. A free trade of thoughts and a late night drunken showing of scars. I am not good at looking vulnerable with men, but I just want something to kill these problems I brought back into my life again. Applications are open for Muses, if you're cute with a nice rack and good note taking skills you move to the front of he line, but I am willing to interview anyone willing to send in a resume.

BTW, that forward post was written by me. I guess I fail at humor.....