GAMETA
Banned
I feel like something great is coming. Something that will change my life. It's waiting for the right time, but it is there. It will be the result of years in the making and waiting, thousands of hours thinking about it not knowing what it is, learning about it through other things. I can feel it, inside me, that that gives me purpose and saves me, the breakthrough of my own reality and capability, a recognition that needs not to be recognized because I'll know it's there. I am special, I've always known that, although I'm not good at anything except not being bad, I know I am. I'm just waiting for the right time, waiting for it to manifest, to be the butterfly, to escape and to fulfill what deep down I know is waiting for me... I know I can be as special as I am supposed to.
Except I know it's not true. Life made sure to remind me everyday of the actual failure that I am. Not a single friend, socially inapt, constantly discarded, rejected, disgusted, hated for existing even. Not good at anything, not enough energy to do anything, always the passenger, always lonely and excluded. I work, but not enough. I'm good, but am I really? I'm creative when I feel like it, but I never feel like it anymore. I feel like I'm capable of anything, just not capable of being capable... I'm sorry I'm like this and so are they, so they pity me in disgust and I accept it. I don't like it but I accept it and I'm thankful they do.
I feel like existence crippled me, a sick sense of humor of the universe, so it may be that I'm supposed to be pebble on the pavement, the rightful destination of the spit, that ugly spot that never rubs out... I am the inaction. I am a coward.
I am the dirt on your boots but am proud I'm not the shit, so I'm waiting for the blessings of the rain to wash over me and put me back where I belong, somewhere I'll be cheered and necessary, where I'll be whole and irreplaceable... this place has to exist, doesn't it? I beg God that it does... But do I really? I don't think I actually care enough anymore. I feel like I should be what I'm not and never will, so then who should I be really? I wait for the day I can tell myself that maybe I'm exactly this, nothing, I'm just not certain of anything.
Delusion is a bitch.
Except I know it's not true. Life made sure to remind me everyday of the actual failure that I am. Not a single friend, socially inapt, constantly discarded, rejected, disgusted, hated for existing even. Not good at anything, not enough energy to do anything, always the passenger, always lonely and excluded. I work, but not enough. I'm good, but am I really? I'm creative when I feel like it, but I never feel like it anymore. I feel like I'm capable of anything, just not capable of being capable... I'm sorry I'm like this and so are they, so they pity me in disgust and I accept it. I don't like it but I accept it and I'm thankful they do.
I feel like existence crippled me, a sick sense of humor of the universe, so it may be that I'm supposed to be pebble on the pavement, the rightful destination of the spit, that ugly spot that never rubs out... I am the inaction. I am a coward.
I am the dirt on your boots but am proud I'm not the shit, so I'm waiting for the blessings of the rain to wash over me and put me back where I belong, somewhere I'll be cheered and necessary, where I'll be whole and irreplaceable... this place has to exist, doesn't it? I beg God that it does... But do I really? I don't think I actually care enough anymore. I feel like I should be what I'm not and never will, so then who should I be really? I wait for the day I can tell myself that maybe I'm exactly this, nothing, I'm just not certain of anything.
Delusion is a bitch.
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