A Page in Life
Posted: Wed Nov 19, 2003 1:58 amI beg your prardon for posting such as this here, but I have my reasons. Some here see me as a grandstanding, supercilious and pompus, and I cannot fault such judgement (such things are more likely my imagination fueled by my poor self esteem). Others may be annoyed at my excessive verbosity and unnecessary vocabularity. At the very least I ask that you criticize me after you've finnished reading this post, and decide only then whether or not the situation merits such language.
My aforementioned reason that I have for posting this here goes back many years to the fact that I don't really have many friends. Certainly none that would take the time to sit and listen to me at great legnth. I've spent too much time wallowing in antisocial tendancies, no few of which are my own fault.
Four years I have spent harbouring resentment and spite. Four years it has festerd in my gut like a broiling cauldron, malice and petty viciousness brewing. My chest has felt leaden and sunken as all breath of vibrant spirit escaped me and my heart was a great and heavy weight. My countenance was black and my demeanor foul. Such was my dispair that I would feel physicaly ill from it, leaving me without appetite or energy. I would shed tears for no reason that I could concieve of save that some coiling black worm of angst inside me had squeezed them out.
I knew that such emotion can be exorcized in one way alone: to abandon it. To leave aside any spite and hate that I carried and find happiness. But I could not: to abandon my smouldering anger would be to abandon all that remained within me. To take revenge would feed that hate, not quench it. And, in time, I realized that I hated that which I had slowly became. Scarecly a human being, with no soul except that which could claw at itself as it tried to feel. I feared that I would not be content to harbor this festering rot of the soul, and would become like those that had spited me.
I had surrendered. I had lost all sight of peace or clarity in the world, and resigned myself to a neutral dispair that would overshadow my waking days for all the life I had yet to witness.
But light would upon me once more: a short while ago I met a girl. We're in love.
All the blackend stormclouds have cleared from my countenance, and all that remains is radiance. Such sweet uplifting breath has filled my chest that it may burst. My eyes are bright, my step is light, and no woes constrict me. I must put this forth, for if I cannot talk of it I feel that I will go mad.
Even now I can feel the clawing spite and malice that I held to so tightly fall aside, either forgotten or dismissed. Such weight has been cast from my mind that I can see and feel clearly once again. Still I am burdened, and will be for some time, but the layers of supression and resentment and self incrimination are being shed one at a time.
I must thank my brother, who attends this board, for he may have been all that kept me from an absolute dispair from which I could make no return.
To conclude,
My aforementioned reason that I have for posting this here goes back many years to the fact that I don't really have many friends. Certainly none that would take the time to sit and listen to me at great legnth. I've spent too much time wallowing in antisocial tendancies, no few of which are my own fault.
Four years I have spent harbouring resentment and spite. Four years it has festerd in my gut like a broiling cauldron, malice and petty viciousness brewing. My chest has felt leaden and sunken as all breath of vibrant spirit escaped me and my heart was a great and heavy weight. My countenance was black and my demeanor foul. Such was my dispair that I would feel physicaly ill from it, leaving me without appetite or energy. I would shed tears for no reason that I could concieve of save that some coiling black worm of angst inside me had squeezed them out.
I knew that such emotion can be exorcized in one way alone: to abandon it. To leave aside any spite and hate that I carried and find happiness. But I could not: to abandon my smouldering anger would be to abandon all that remained within me. To take revenge would feed that hate, not quench it. And, in time, I realized that I hated that which I had slowly became. Scarecly a human being, with no soul except that which could claw at itself as it tried to feel. I feared that I would not be content to harbor this festering rot of the soul, and would become like those that had spited me.
I had surrendered. I had lost all sight of peace or clarity in the world, and resigned myself to a neutral dispair that would overshadow my waking days for all the life I had yet to witness.
But light would upon me once more: a short while ago I met a girl. We're in love.
All the blackend stormclouds have cleared from my countenance, and all that remains is radiance. Such sweet uplifting breath has filled my chest that it may burst. My eyes are bright, my step is light, and no woes constrict me. I must put this forth, for if I cannot talk of it I feel that I will go mad.
Even now I can feel the clawing spite and malice that I held to so tightly fall aside, either forgotten or dismissed. Such weight has been cast from my mind that I can see and feel clearly once again. Still I am burdened, and will be for some time, but the layers of supression and resentment and self incrimination are being shed one at a time.
I must thank my brother, who attends this board, for he may have been all that kept me from an absolute dispair from which I could make no return.
To conclude,
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