the art of rage

You want people to feel a static shock when you walk by. If they look at you, you want it to burn.

You want your presence to feel uncomfortable from across the room. You want your silence to scream so you don’t need to waste your breath. You want them to want you to leave (you won’t). You want interactions to feel like walking on embers.

You want them to understand you won’t help them. You don’t think they deserve it. Even if you know they do. You help the helpless by helping less. You have nobody to ask for help because you don’t want it. You help only yourself so there’s nothing to owe.

Sometimes your contempt for life and for people is overwhelming. It’s a sick thing that broken people live as long as they do. It’s torture for everyone involved. Helping because it’s considered humanly decent only serves to perpetuate parasitic existence.

You’d understand if it all was a litmus test of your compassion — if helping the helpless helped your soul recover. But if it was true you lack the understanding of these agents’ roles in existences outside of your own consciousness. Have they been sentenced to a lifetime of abuse? Do they have their sins forgiven by seeking help from someone as caustic as you? Such a terrible existence seems reserved only for the worst of people, and by that logic it would mean the worst are closest to you. You refuse to believe it. You continue to float.

Resorting to violence is never necessary. Your words cut deep and do more damage than anything sharp. They leave invisible scars that are real in every other respect. You always hold yourself back. You know better. You’ve never met someone as nasty as yourself and you’re certain it’s by design. You’d avoid you at all costs if given the choice.

The persistent unwillingness of people to change themselves for the better is among the most despicable benefits of free will. It’s a paradox. They know they should change but they don’t. Most will never change and they don’t need to because they can leech.

You could be the best thing that could happen to people — the danger is you won’t be to most. You long for the day you escape being driven by need. Eventually you will draw back the curtain to show everyone your rage was not what it seemed.

Perseverance. That which most lack is the virtue that keeps you going. You can reshape the world with enough effort and pain – as long as you don’t destroy yourself in the process. The margin is thin and the odds are stacked against you in inconceivable ways. But you can become something great.

You reassure yourself: diamonds are born from extreme pressure and heat. They might be existentially rare — but the dual is rarity’s a quality of things that are mostly destroyed during creation. It takes luck for diamonds to come to exist but once arrived they live forever.

It will take luck for you as well.