I have to build up the willpower to snap The Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess disk. I’m not actually going to do it, but if I have the strength to, then Eugene cannot ever use Zelda to blackmail me. I have to build up the strength to trash my room, tear up my diaries, break my memorabilia. I have to leave all my chocolate and food out on the dining room table, set fire to my photos, ban myself from the computer. I have to tell all my worst enemies my greatest secrets and fears. I have to shatter my phone and beat myself to a bloodied pulp.
I’m being serious, and possibly just a little bit cynical when I say this. If I have nothing to lose, he can take nothing from me. There is nothing he can threaten me with. There is no way he can blackmail me. There’s nothing he can use against me, because if I’ve used it against myself it will mean nothing to me.
I’m sick of putting up with the bullying. To be perfectly honest, it makes me feel pathetic. I feel weak. I can’t hold my ground, I’m a pushover. There’s nothing I can do to withstand him, I’ll always be beaten to the ground. SO I have to beat myself to the ground, and stand tall and proud. And then, what can he do to me? Nothing!
But let’s be honest here. It takes so little to co-operate, and the reward of peace, Zelda, health, everything I treasure… It’s so little to ask for, a little co-operation. And every single time, I’d rather give in. I’m pathetic! I’m a disgrace, no spine, a weakling! And it’s killing me. Why does my brother, my own brother by blood and family, do this to me? What did I do to make him hate me enough to ruin my life? I don’t know. When I was young, I always listened to him and obeyed him. Sure he hated me, sure he tricked me and lied to me and led me to believe horrible things. Sure I was given more attention because I was younger and more fragile, and sure that’s a fair reason to be jealous. But do you have to keep hating me?
I’m going to end up crying again. Why is it that when I’m at my weakest and most cynical, I always seem to talk to Angela? She hardly catches me in a bright and happy mood, pleased to be at Jaws with the inner-inner core, even if I am a charlatan. No, Angela always talks to me when I’m thinking to myself how much people suck. Look at me. I’m a disgrace. I’m full of shit, not to mention emotional and attention seeking. *censored* *censored* *censored*.
No, that’s too far. Profanity kills professionality. But do I really care about good grammar and big words? Yeah, sure I do. I’m clinging to it, with this idea that it’ll make me seem intelligent. Am I a fraud? Yeah, I am. I’m one of the most stupid people I know. There, the truth’s out. I’m not better than you because I write with punctuation. I’m not smarter than you because I know more words. I’m just simple-minded, with simple ideas and simple pleasures. God, I’m a fraud. Well that makes me feel like a sack of crap.
You know what, yeah, I’m going now. Again. Because the longer I spend ranting about my sucky life, the longer I believe my life is sucky. And I know it isn’t. I know I’m happy, but I’m just in a foul mood, a bilious mood. Charlatan or not, I enjoy life, and especially its simple pleasures. So I’m going to go, because depressing myself is a stupid way of dealing with this. With all this. Whatever ‘this’ is. I’m seeing Shibi tomorrow, and surely that’s reason enough to be happy?