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Wednesday, January 05, 2011

The Steppenwolf

* NOTE: I wrote this during my long "hell of the abyss" period of this past year.
Down on the floor, depressed into torment for months.

Have progressed since then. Blessed and grateful to YOU and the universe.....

reading Hesse's Steppenwolf today was a grand fucking insight. The man who is outside of society, looks down upon civilization, hates the hipocracy, struggles for liberation and isolation from it. Yet what is the root of his disgust of humanity? Self hatred. Bleeding, vile, unmistakable, undeniable and inescapable self-hatred. Self-hatred which is the same side of self-love. He hates humanity and yet loves it more than anyone on the planet possibly could, the depth of his hatred as deep as his love. And how he feels of the planet and the human world is how he feels of himself. How ironic, how bitter it is to know that I am indeed this Steppenwolf. This creature of the steppes, this diseased being. Despite all of the external pleasantries, this putrid knowledge of the disappointment I am to my own self, this horrific truth that I cannot run from, that is the key to my freedom. Me facing my own self-hatred. Combined it is with self-love, combined with love of humanity and hatred for it's systemic rule. But without this blinding self-hatred, I really have no ambition, no goals, no drive, no need. It is this tormented state which makes anything possible. Where does it stem from? Well, yes, as the logical psychological analysis would assume, from childhood. From knowing that what I am is so different and so marked that it will never run alongside the sheep, such a wolf I am. And knowing that my own parents not only know this putridity, but are also ashamed of it. Yes, that is partly where it began. But the root of my self-hatred lies in me not ever being able to match my own ridiculously high expectations. Needing, craving, wanting to be a god. A god trapped in this human vessel. Seeing it's limitations every second. Suffering with the burden of supremacy, masked by this disgusting skin, body, soul. It never goes away. Everything is an escape away from it. The self-hatred never, ever, ceases to taunt me, mock me, what a joke I am.

What a wretched mess. What a beautiful creation.

I need a miracle. I need to break free. I am tired of this limbo land. I am tired of being forever trapped in this pandamonium. Give me an answer, give me beyond truth, give me the key to unleash my true self.

Blast and damn you universe, for surrounding me with Alexander, with Homer, with Hesse, with Socrates and Da Vinci and Van Gogh and all the Greats. Damn you for allowing me to believe that I could be greater and making it impossible for me to ever be more than what I am.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I love you, I love you, I love you. This mirror, this mask of myself that I constantly see, this is not me. This is too awful to be my reality.

I am a GOD. Let me be one. Please. I'm sick of this. I don't want to be the Steppenwolf. I don't want to be the shunned. I don't want to be the prodigy. I don't want to be just the genius. I want to be a fucking GOD. Why would you torture me with this vision of grandeur if it is unreachable? What kind of living hell are you imprisoning me in? What wretched sins has my spirit done in past lives, in the re-encarnations of my history, to deserve this?

Free me. Free me or give me a way to free myself. This is far too much to bear anymore.

This self-hatred explains Everything.

Explains why I continually suffer and choose to suffer, choose to torture myself, choose the hardest possible path. I am punishing myself. I am killing myself trying to destroy this thing that I am, but never fully destroying it, just close enough where I am always at the brink of destruction. That's the only place I can ever be slightly free, because that is the place where my guilt is appeased. Any shot of happiness, any shot of actual light, I shun it, I turn away. The beast within me can't stand the light, can't stand me shining, knows the horrid thing I actually am.

They think I'm the good guy. The hero. I'm the villian. The demon. The anti-christ. Pure evil. Not because I'm actually powerful enough to be, but because I'm so fucking powerless in my ambition to be all of this. They think I'm Machiavelli. I'm nowhere near it. I'm a constant experiment of my own wants, meeting up with the blockade of possibility. A self-fulfilling prophecy of eternal failure. A doomed one.

It explains why I can only ever fully cum when I have rape, abuse, torture fantasies playing in my head. When I imagine men banging the shit out of me, cursing my name, bitch, slut, whore, violating me, abusing me, flinging me across walls, pissing on me, cutting me. Only when do I feel at the brink of abuse, torture and pain do I cum. So deep is this self-hatred of myself that the only light is for someone to feel the same about me, for another to agree with my own self-hatred.

That is likely why I run away from real love. My system can't process it. Can't fathom why anyone would actually love this horrid thing I am. Can't understand why people call it beautiful, can't comprehend why people call it smart. It's diseased, it's faulty, it's a broken machine. It's a machine that couldn't be fixed even with the best gadgetry. They don't know the real picture. They don't know what's inside. They don't, can't, understand what I actually am.

So that is why I levitate towards people who treat me like shit. It adds to my comfort zone of hating myself.

It's why any time anyone treats me nice I'm in a state of paranoia. Wondering why.

Whenever I face rejection, failure, disappointment, suffering, abuse, these things all make sense to me, these all correlate directly to my truth, to my hatred of my self. Winning, champion, success, all these things make no sense to me, don't fit well or sit at ease with my system. Successes come and go, never consistent, never stable, because I despise myself. I hate myself so much that I subconsciously always find ways to destroy myself.

Well no fucking more.

Fuck my self hatred.

Fuck it all.

I'm going to start learning how to let go of my expectations. I'm going to start embracing people that actually care, actually love me. I'm worth loving, I have to remember that. I'm not a god. I suppose I never will be. Somehow I have to start believing that's enough.

I have to stop with the self-negative thoughts, the self-demeaning traps, all of the negative poison flowing thru my veins.

I have to become whole. I have to become free.

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