Save your brightest smile for hell my darlings

[Sepia]

You wake up and you know that today features the work of david lynch on your life, directing every possible angle and situation. You've felt it before from other masters, picking your tie, picking your boxers, picking your cereal, picking espresso before coffee, picking your nose with cocaine to get up and picking a fight on the bus. You identified yourself with madmax yesterday, a stranger comes to town with nothing to lose and everything to prove and you do want to prove something, you want the world to see you for who you are, you want them to see your burdens and pains, your grace and finesse as easily as you yourself would everytime you wake up and stare into the mirror, too tired for rational thought and too skewered on the kebab of life to draw conclusions like these, almost high, asking yourself what is the point of the perpetuality and you find that your warm bed holds as many answers as the journey ahead of you. You nonchalantly accept that life is just survival untill you die.

The coffee brings you up because you love coffee and love things that taste something, has a meaning, does something to you the second you've done it and the bread tastes stale and the peanutbutter is without flavour and you do all you can to shrug the sleep off, today is important so you grab a ginseng, you pour a glass of carbonated water and you wish you could just shut off the thinking abilities of your brain, go into hibernation for a period of a bachelor's degree and wake up with it. You always dreamt you'd be superman when you were a wee kid, that one day it'd all work out, you'd become a vampire/superhuman and you could live outside the structures made of man. You would truly be free, free to roam the world and do whatever you wanted, free to think and ponder the machinations of societies, free to wish you were nothing but a number.

You want to sleep and the pain, anxiety and fear to end. Not because you freely selected it, which is when you could have walked out that door anytime you'd like. Your hate for authorities began early on and you've kept that hate with you, sometimes as a friend, other times as an enemy when your self-consciousness whispers to you and you know you have failed on more than one level. You failed yourself because you begun an education and a job you hate and you failed your oldest authoritive figures, ma, pa and bro when you let them down, whined and couldn't finish your education properly, ending up as a bartender in a brown saloon.

You spent much time being angry when you were young and you blinded yourself for far too long. You became paranoid and jaded at an early stage, you became lifeless before your life had begun and got burnt out before you ever did any work. You were the most glorious of all I knew, you lived thousand lives inside your head and it was all pain to you, your personas either only knowing pain or knowing nothing of it. In the end, you left an empty husk for all to see, gave in to your own breaches of moral, caved in inside of yourself and fixed your visage on far beyond reality for reality itself was what taxed you mostly, not the lives you lived.

Your story doesn't end but your fear consumed you, your angst and selfloathe got the better of you, sitting in a classroom with dull cow's eyes, grapes in your sockets and you always said you were here at the wrong time, the wrong place and that you wished you were born into an early tribe that put you out a winter morning to snuff out the life you could have had.
You got tired from proving yourself because noone could see it, noone would see it, your head filled with dead men and dreamless spectres.

You reach into the back of your closet, donning the tie you used when you were crust as fuck and you step outside and out of your world and into theirs to the sound of thousand screaming infants. You step outside and as the sun shine and the birds twitter and flicker through the change of realities you are again true to yourself, you remember your face and you step boldly out infront of the first suv you see.

You know it won't kill you but you won't feel numb when it hits.

[AFK]

that's some strong stuff right there.  hits close to home too.  seems a little trite, but there you go. 

[Bebek Sincap Ratatosk]

Good rant... though I have to say I have never really experienced that sort of thing myself. Amazing how we each can have completely different (yet sometimes equally shitty) experiences.

All in all Seven out of Ten nuts. You might have gotten one or two more if the angst had been more personal or less directed at me the reader