Pray now baby, pray your life was just a dream
Fear. Of bullies, of girls, of inadequacy, of loneliness. Fear of everything. Afraid of this never changing nor getting better. Terrified of life being… just this. I’m trying to fight it. I got a tattoo at 16 to look tough, but I’m just a fucking nerd with an idiot stamp on my arm for eternity. I was so ashamed I never showed it to anyone at school and was mortified when one of my bullies saw it and made me show it to the whole class, laughing. Listening to hard rock while I draw ultra-violent comics is an outlet to this motherfucking angst and abuse. Dreaming of massacring those fuckers who punish me for being different. Secretly wanting to be like them. One more in the pack of wolves and not the sheep to be devoured. But I’m cheap meat. Maybe they are right and I deserve to be a pariah. Fucking creep. Stone me to death and get it over with, your bastards! Finish the job! I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. I keep hanging on to this ordeal you call life for no reason. As if anything was worth the effort of breathing.
The first eighteen years of my life were so fucking horrible. I’m surprised I was never suicidal nor I self-harmed, despite of how little I cared for myself. I take pride now on having moved on from that, but I can’t help but wondering if I really left those years behind me or if I’ve dragged them with me all along. Have I lived the life I wanted for myself or am I just working overtime to prove my bullies wrong? To, in the unlikely scenario we meet again, I can say confidently “I moved to Europe and I’m killing it. I’ve fucked more women than you could shag in three lifetimes, motherfucker. I guess I’m not the faggot you said I was, huh?” But who cares? They are all bald and fat now, drowning in debt and suffocated in boring jobs; divorced or trapped in loveless marriages, with kids that hate them. They created their own petty punishment. Their best years were in high school and everything was downhill from then. Why do I need to keep overcompensating to adhere to an ideal persona that would have nailed it as a teenager? There’s only so many women I can fuck, so much money I can make, so many trips I can go on. When does it stop? When do I win this sick fucking game they already showed me has no prize in the end?
Should I be afraid of anyone other than myself? Am I my own bully now?