The Obscure

Hello there. How is everyone doing this evening? That's good/bad. Oh, me? Well, I'll tell you.
I am feeling strange. Feeling strange in the ways I have always felt strange. My head is throbbing, I don't know why. I feel the need to perform some rude act of mental masturbation, but my reservoir of bad poetry seems to have dried up, and drawing no longer gives me the release it once did.
So what do I do, then? Read, maybe, listen to music. That might help me forget about stuff for a few minutes, or at least think about something else. Drugs? Drugs have never gotten me anywhere, I was blessed with a high tolerance for them, I could keep popping pills all day and it wouldn't do more to me than being awake at 1 AM does.
I have always thought, "If I could only get past this one thing that is stopping me, I could be happy. If I could just let things go and live life in a laid-back lane, I could deal." and I have tried, and tried, and tried again to make myself think that way. I have tried to feel like things don't matter, and to know that I can just go on my own course without worry. It has never worked, no matter how much effort, or how many pills I take. No matter how many times I break down and smash some furniture and split open the skin on my knuckles, or slap my face till my cheeks are bloody; no matter how many times I let go, I always pick it back up. I can not live without the burdens I have created for myself, I can not exist without the worries or anxieties that I have fabricated.
I grew my hair long because I wanted to not care. I wanted to be one of those guys who look like they just roll along in life doing what they felt like, without a single trifling tribute shown to the tin gods of feeling that rule the lives of normal men . I wear the clothes I do because I felt like maybe if I didn't care how I looked then I could escape the eyes of my fellows. I don't wear scents so that I can seem like I do not care about my scent, I don't buy nice sneakers so that I can seem like I do not care about my sneakers, I don't want a nice car so that I can seem like I don't have to care about my car, I don't work out so that I seem like I don't care about my body. I am the same as any person I hate, I perform every action that I scorn, and I feel every feeling that I have abandoned so heartily. I act out these feelings in different ways, I make my moves in the negative. But the feelings are there, shining and hideous, to control me.
Edjucation has always been something that doesn't work for me, and I have finally figured out why. I have always wanted to be someone who doesn't care about their life, because I didn't want to be like everyone else. That's all there is to it. How petty is that, to ruin my life as a form of escape from the judging eyes of people who are just like me?
I wish there were some larger reason for my current state of isolation and emotional self-mutilation, I wish there were something I could aim for in life that was more than just the acceptance of my peers. Unfortunately, these wishes are nothing more than the wishes that brought me to where I am now--they are just empty wishes. If I keep on wishing and pretending for centuries, they will never come true.
This is no abdication, I am not abandoning the path my life is in. It is merely a recognition of the petty, childish reasons behind my self-imposed failure. It is just another worry that I am putting down. By morning I'll have picked it up again.