Self-Conformity

I'm laying on the living room couch, contemplating my life. Over the past few months, I've come to a few realizations. First and foremost, I have been, and still am, my worst enemy in every sense of the word. I am not self-destructing, but I am destroying myself. When I want to curb my appetite, all I have to do is look at my stomach in the mirror. It is a form of self hate. It tells me that I am not ok with who I am on the outside. At the same time, it's a sign that I am not ok with who I am on the inside.
I have come to meet people's expectations of me. If someone knows I am a mechanic, they expect me to act as a mechanic, and that's exactly what I do. I make it every aspect of my life for the brief moments I spend with that person. I can only talk about cars, think about cars, and look at cars. Nothing else enters my mind, and I can't help it. Even in my blogs, this is the case. The name of this particular blog is "smoldering rage." It is supposed to be an outlet for me, a means to air out my anger, my frustrations. Yet even here, I have forced myself into an angry persona that, after only one post, had little new to say. I did, however, have a way to say it. I had to sound angry, much angrier than I actually was on the topic. It had to fit the mold set forth by the blog, or so I thought. I'd erase my previous post in frustration, but instead I'll leave it up, as a reminder, and probably as a form of self-hate.
Laying on the couch, trying to fall asleep, an odd thought comes to me. I think back to ex-girlfriends. I don't think about my relationships, though. All I can see are the faults they've seen in my, most notably expressed in their current boyfriends. As strange as it sounds, I think that most women have a certain taste in men, and tend to go for similar ones. When I've gotten the chance to see my exes' new or old boyfriends, I've found that this idea holds true. We will, most of the time, have certain similar behaviors, or personal characteristics, or we might even look alike in some way. I also think about their current relationships. What is it like when they have sex? Is it the same as when we had sex? Most of the time, sex is the focus of my thoughts. Why? I have no idea. But it hurts to even think about. It could be something to do with the fact that I believe that sex is the expression of everything held between two people. This is why empty, meaningless, drunken sex is empty and meaningless in the end, no matter how good it is. Or maybe I'm just jealous. Both are equally possible. Both are masochistic.
In a few months, I hope to be going off to law school. Or do I? I have done everything in my power to prevent this from happening. I have ignored my schoolwork, I have not built up any cash reserves, I have not even made a serious, concentrated effort towards getting the necessary paperwork in on time. I have a few theories as to why this is, but I can't admit to myself whether or not any of them are right. I say admit it because deep down, I'm sure I know which is the truth, I just can't be honest with myself. I think it's because I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what law school means. It means that I'm on my own, without help, floating about. I'm in a new place, surrounded by new people, living life the way I'm going to be living it for the next however many years until I die. The things I do now determine the way I'll do them for the rest of my life, and that scares me to death.
I don't have any of the answers, but the number of questions I have grows every day. My mind races a million miles a minute and the anxiety from my complete inability to solve my problems, or answer these questions, or even take responsibility for doing the things I say I want to do, drives me insane. This is why I do stupid things. This is why I buy cars, guns, and motorcycles. I want to be unpredictable. I want to be young. I want to be able to move to any country in the world and live the way I want to live. I want the accountability of an 18 year old - all my life ahead of me and no debts to my name. I joke about getting old, but at 22, I feel as though I've already missed my chance at life 2.0. I am stuck in a rut, and my fears keep me from climbing out. I am dependent on everyone around me, because their thoughts and opinions help me avoid facing my own. This is why I'm laying on the couch at 1 in the morning, thinking about ex-girlfriends and the sex they're having with their new boyfriends, trying to pick a movie to watch that will help me take my mind off of my racing thoughts just long enough for me to fall asleep for a few short hours, until I have to get up and do it all over again.

Where's your Brain?

I am seriously starting to doubt that there's intelligent life on Earth, much less outside of it. Who the fuck is thinking up these means of communication between different people? Who is coming up with the standards for who is "beautiful," or who is a "slut." Hell, even intelligence itself is a pretty stupid idea to begin with. Can't say that it's book smarts, because even if you've got seven degrees and a Ph.D you could still be a complete dumbfuck and end up nowhere. Can't be street smarts, because a successful drug dealer has lots of those, and what sort of fucking good is he to society in general? Hell, he's even a hazard to his own health with the source of his success. Any dissatisfied customer or rival dealer could come up and kill him on the spot. don't see too much of that sort of competition in the cubicles of an accounting company. So who's to say what success, or intelligence, or any other measure of a person, really is, then? Nobody, that's fucking who. I am sick and tired of being judged by false attributes. 99% of the time, the people who tell me I should be doing something else with my life, be more goal oriented, be more focused, at 100% full of shit. What the fuck have you done in your life that's been so great? you sit in a cubicle and stare at a computer all day long? What the fuck kind of existence is that? You sit on the lawn, smell the flowers, and try to peddle organic pot? Take a shower you hippie piece of shit. You manage money market accounts and play the stock market? Why don't you go suck the big brown cock that is your cigar, you exploitative shitwhore. How many people do you have to bring down into poverty before you feel good about yourself?
It's not the fringes of society that bring it down, or its core. It's the stupid fucking drive towards a stupid fucking goal. We are setting stupid goals for ourselves as a measure of ourselves as human beings. And we are wasting our lives in alcoholism and suicide when we don't reach those idiotic measures. Tyler Durden said that you are not your job or the clothes you wear, and he was right. And yes, I know that Tyler durden is a movie character, and fuck you too, you wikipedia-and-imdb-obsessed fanboy sack of shit. Why don't you go out, get drunk, get laid, and die from a fucking STD. Guess what, life happens. Deal with it. Everybody else does, and you're no better or worse than any of them. Only two things in life are for sure: you're born, and then you die. What's the point in living a miserable fucking existence in a way that pleases your diety's representative on Earth? What the fuck does he know? He's just as much of a sack of flesh and bones as you are. He's also a sack of shit. You want to honor your God, then do it yourself, without guidance. There is no such thing as a self-help book to enlightenment, so stop looking you pathetic waste of organs.
So live life the way you want it. Do the things that make you feel good. Stop wasting time with crazy bitches and abusive boyfriends. Stop putting in time at a job you hate, to buy a bigger house that you despire, to hold all of the crap that you don't need. You are not the contents of your wallet, you are the contents of your suit. And if that suit is making you empty, then escape it, burn it, and reclaim the last shreds of whatever humanity you might not have yet pulverized into a fine powder. Don't just exist. LIVE!