To disappear

Lately things have been passing by so quickly that I don’t have time to reflect on them at all. Within the last month or so I’ve had several different people pass through my life, only to depart all too soon, leaving me to wonder if life is supposed to be like this, or if I myself am passing through it way too quickly. I guess it’s okay; things like this happen in the course of one’s life.

Tonight I cut off two people from my life, and it feels good to savor all those wonderfully bitter, vindictive feelings I’ve been harboring deep inside for so long. Both of them I met through Facebook. Chuck Schafer and I met a year ago, and quickly we formed a pretty close friendship, talking on the phone; however, since the beginning of this year we’ve grown apart so much that we hardly spoke to one another, because his social life as the protegée of his local frat was of greater importance. So I messaged him on Messenger this evening saying I couldn’t hold up anymore; when that served too cowardly to me, I called him. I left a long, detailed message on his phone saying that I couldn’t continue with a neglected friendship. I’m much more content knowing that he’s better in his world, without having to hope for something that probably wouldn’t happen in the first place.

The other guy was this kid named Cole who, for lack of a better word, is a party animal. He lives at the same place where so much of my pre-dorm Lubbock life played out, Jefferson Commons, with the girls he lives with. We’ve talked over the telephone a couple of times and I genuinely liked him, but everytime I talk to him I can’t help feeling every single negative sentiment I had about Tech, and generally about the whole experience in general. I don’t even feel victimized anymore; it’s just the fact that that place was the scene of so much physical pain and emotional suffering that even now 2 years later just talking about it becomes a struggle to distinguish between the good times and the bad times. I think of Isaac, I think of everyone who willingly made my experience there worse than I could ever possibly imagine. What’s more infuriating is that I’m so desolate now that even related images and ideas are so repugnant that I can’t think of them anymore without feeling somehow cheated by the university and the people there, and abandoned by everyone. I don’t hold grudges at all, but I will somehow always resent the people and the institutions that drove me into madness and suicidal ideation, and the apathy with which people treated the whole situation. During these last two years I have gone through so many changes , but that whole experience is something that I can’t let go; a catalyst event: before Lubbock, and after Lubbock.

I wish it were possible to somehow to erase everything and start all over again, to forget all those painful experiences, all the faces, all the names. I don’t know where my life is headed, and frankly, I don’t care. Things are too far gone to salvage them. I’ve tried going to a different school. That didn’t work. Tried to replace school with work, in an effort to defer dreams to reality. That didn’t work either. I’ve cut off so many of the good friends that all I have left are the bad ones. And I don’t care. I don’t care where life goes now; if I die or commit suicide it would be better since I wouldn’t have to face the world as a failure, as someone who can show nothing for what he has, who is constantly under suspicion, who cannot love and be loved in return, who has been dealt an awful lot in these last four years.

I tried to break off things with Ryan, only because now I find myself hating him for how successful he is, and jealous of his achievements. It’s pitiful because I look up to him and love him for everything he’s done for me, but I feel he doesn’t get me at all. He shouldn’t have to worry about me, he has to worry about himself and what he’s going to do about his new job, or even without me. I find myself praying for God to put him in his place, like when he had his truck stolen in Mexico. When he went to Lubbock this past weekend I decided not to answer his calls because I feared he would be with one of his so-called ‘friends’–meaning guys he hooks up with–and I was right. I have been calling him and not calling back or manoeuvering my calls to make sure he doesn’t get through, or covering up all these sentiments under a guise of thin-lipped civility. I feel like making him suffer. I want to make him cry. I want to make him hurt like the way he hurt me, and most of all, I want him to pine away for me, just like I am doing now, languishing away for love that won’t come, because he chose to put himself first.

I wish I could disappear now. I wish no one knew my name, or what I was made of, what substance enters into me and makes me feel this way. I want to set the whole world on fire, I want to bring about the end of ages. I want to hurt everyone who’s ever hurt me in any way, and I want to make THEM suffer in the same manner as they made me suffer.

Solidão

Sofro calado, Na solidão,
Guardo comigo a memória do teu vulto em vão
Eu fui tão bom pra você, E o resultado: desilusão
O dia passa, A noite vem, A solução deste caso eu cansei de buscar
Eu vou rezar, Pra você me querer, Outra vez, Como um dia me quis
Quando a saudade apertar, Não se acanhe comigo, Pode me procurar