For nearly a decade, I witnessed human degradation,
experienced the worst in society. American society. Self-imposed, admittedly.
Disenchanted with fate's hand, I stood numb with discontent in the midst of vast, empty south-west locales, morosely listening to the low winds moaning through dead shrubs, suffered the soundless hum of loneliness pounding down across sallow prairies, dusty ergs, crumbling barrio streets. The bitter countenance of passerby on paranoid calles and trash-lined boulevards of broken hopes. Resting my borrowed flesh in moldy warehouses and dilapidated grottos commonly associated with lost phantoms wrapped in soul sucking manias or pain alleviating addictions from nameless substances with the ever constant waft of feces, tepid urine, odorous feet, unwashed linens - all masking the possibility of any hope.
Meeting certain arcane criteria, I was labeled insane by The State and awarded free income in lieu of discontinuing the lifestyle I chose, content to dwell in a government-issued apartment and self-administer mood deadening medications. The state medications altered me. I lost the passion which made me love who I was. Nothing was interesting. The gray screen only became grayer as faceless doctors upped the dosage every time I commented I did not particularly enjoy the after effects. This ultimately caused me to develop into an unfeeling, apathetic corpse wallowing in nostalgic recollections without the energy to leave my dark room and undertake anything I previously enjoyed.
Disenchanted with fate's hand, I stood numb with discontent in the midst of vast, empty south-west locales, morosely listening to the low winds moaning through dead shrubs, suffered the soundless hum of loneliness pounding down across sallow prairies, dusty ergs, crumbling barrio streets. The bitter countenance of passerby on paranoid calles and trash-lined boulevards of broken hopes. Resting my borrowed flesh in moldy warehouses and dilapidated grottos commonly associated with lost phantoms wrapped in soul sucking manias or pain alleviating addictions from nameless substances with the ever constant waft of feces, tepid urine, odorous feet, unwashed linens - all masking the possibility of any hope.
Meeting certain arcane criteria, I was labeled insane by The State and awarded free income in lieu of discontinuing the lifestyle I chose, content to dwell in a government-issued apartment and self-administer mood deadening medications. The state medications altered me. I lost the passion which made me love who I was. Nothing was interesting. The gray screen only became grayer as faceless doctors upped the dosage every time I commented I did not particularly enjoy the after effects. This ultimately caused me to develop into an unfeeling, apathetic corpse wallowing in nostalgic recollections without the energy to leave my dark room and undertake anything I previously enjoyed.
For far too long I have held back. Waiting. Calculating. Thinking. I reserved myself, afraid to make a move.
Mired in doubt and paranoia. In a self-imposed exile from a lifestyle in which
I held dear and rather quite enjoyed (disclosed by life-hating caseworkers and
psychoanalysts that what I did was wrong. Wrong for whom? If I enjoy it and not
harming any one, how is it inappropriate?) I found myself becoming a virulent
recluse holed up in some shit poor locale fearful to go out and live.
No longer.
I will take control again and partake in the obsessions I desire.
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