smokerings

she sensed, now, that something was wearing thin at the edges, fraying so slowly that it was hard to notice. they rubbed their arms unconciously, walked just a little quicker; the sheets didnt end up as a twisted rope at the foot of the bed but stayed wrapped around their warm limbs. she sensed that if something must be said, now would be the time to say it.
i dont love you anymore, she said to herself in the dark. the words were clumsy, they didnt flow as well as she would have liked. so many places to stumble, so many syllables to trip over. would "i dont love you" be better? no, but that sounded so finite. it obliterated everything else. "anymore" was more.. hopeful. that once, she did.
i am incapable of anything beyond this. my whole life will become about it, and then i will cease to exist. i will be lost, like a face in the crowd, like a group of students chanting at a rally, i will be lost behind leaders, behind ideals. i will never be me.
"i dont think this will work out." but why resort to euphemisms? isnt that the same clearance we give everyone in our lives, like we terminate contracts, like we quit jobs? but really, it is like a job. if it works out, well and good. if it doesn't.. well, thats life, right?
i am never going to be that good. im scared that you might leave me, so im leaving you first. so that it doesnt hurt me, that much. besides, youre not good enough for me, and you never will be. i'm just here because you flatter my ego. you're just here because no one else would want you. we're just here because we're desperate and lonely.
...

Kafka's Metamorphoses is a brilliant example of how meaningless our lives are, how we will always struggle to give them meaning but the world, the people we love, will be the very ones to turn against us and crush us like bugs. we are eternally opressed by society's expectations and will never be able to go beyond those because there is no way out of this trap unless and until we die.
...

i want to take up a sport. i want to narrow my world so that i focus my entire mind and body on a single act and just push it, perfect it, until i am capable of doing things that i was never capable of doing. it doesnt have to affect anyone else, i can do what i want with my life. its my liberty, my freedom, to not care about anyone else.
...

i understand the world. i understand the suffering i cause other people by just being an upper-middle class person whose sole interest is earning enough money to send their kids to school and college and to have a nice house to retire in. i convince myself that by struggling to achieve this i acheive "success", and by being successful i am contributing to society and to the benefit of other people. i didnt change anything, i didnt even stick up for the people who were trying to change anything, but thats ok. my kids went to school and i had a house and really i dont care about anyone else. besides, its too much effort to think about anything else.
...

i love him. and maybe i should get over my own insecurities and believe him when he says he loves me, but its too much effort to change the way i am, its too much effort to think..
...

i'd rather just be safe.
i'd rather not think.
its too much to believe.

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it's your fundemental human right not to give a fuck about anyone but yourself.
i'm just always going to be on the other side.