LucrativeSid
New member
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2007
- Messages
- 837
I wrote a short story for the short story contest, but I don't even care about that anymore, so I'm just going to put it here.
The theme was suffering. 2,869 words. (Not even 5 pages.)
Active Suffering
Journal Entry: May 27, 2009
Suffer! Suffer, you worthless idiot! I must suffer! Yes, that is what I will do. I’ve never truly suffered. And I have never truly lived, either. Well, if I don’t have balls enough to live, then suffering is exactly what I deserve. Maybe I’ll at least be able to find some meaning in that. If I can’t, I’d have a hard time believing that there is any meaning to be found. I’m sick of all of this bullshit. And I’m sick of myself. What a pathetic existence I’ve carried myself through all of these years. Pain is the only thing that I can know now. It’s the only thing that I deserve. It’s the only thing left. I’ll start by getting rid of everything that brings me comfort and joy. Goodbye music. Goodbye computer. Goodbye, Rachel. I could have never made her happy, anyway. I’ve always been too weak and too cowardly. I’ve always been too detached and too hidden away from any real part of the world. I don’t deserve her. I’m afraid of commitment.
I hate everything about my life. And when I lay down to escape the world, I just want to get up and scream. Yet, there isn’t even any fuel to feed my rage. I can’t scream. It’s a quiet rage that is barely more audible than the sound of my own beating heart. Instead of getting up and screaming, I merely suffocate - but I don’t stop breathing. No, that would be too easy. One breath after another. One DAY after another. And it’s all meaningless. F*** this. I will know pain. My whole life has been inactive suffering. That’s nothing compared to active suffering. I know nothing of true pain, but I will. I want to die, but if I’m going to kill myself, I’m going to make sure I really did have too much pain to deal with. And if not... well, I don’t know what might happen. For the first time in my life, I know what I must do.
Journal Entry: May 28, 2009
I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’m a little hungry, but I’m certainly not suffering from hunger yet. Maybe I should punch myself in the face. Nah. Wait. Why not? I can’t puss out now. This moment has to be different from the rest of my life.
Okay, I’m back. I was bleeding. It was kind of funny. And it hurt like a bitch. Good for me.
Yesterday, I was going to give away my instruments, but I thought that I’d enjoy the act of giving them away, so I just smashed them all. I did the same with all of my CDs and my computer. It’s just me and my notebook now. (My notebook which apparently now has a drop of blood on it.) I’m trying to print neater than usual because I hate slowing down to do it. I’m very impatient. I want to stab myself in the leg with my pen. This is very torturous. F*** me! F*** me! F*** me! Retard f***, stop wasting pen strokes!
Suffering on purpose (active suffering) is hard. I knew it would be. That’s why I knew I had to do it. I’ll punish myself for my cowardice and lack of self-discipline. I can’t quit.
I broke up with Rachel last night. I’ll miss her terribly, but it was the act of breaking it off that was the real painful part. I always knew I should because she deserves better, I just never had the courage. Now I’m all alone. I should be, too. I don’t think she was that surprised. She knows how messed up I am. She cried, but I can only guess that they were not tears of loss. How could she miss someone like me? She said she hoped, for my own sake, that I’d get my head on straight. (I kind of told her what I was doing with the whole active suffering thing.) I do feel guilty, so I guess that’s a good thing. It worked out in every way it could have. I hope that I’m not too satisfied with the pain I’ve caused us both. It was for the best. And it’s killing me.
All in all, my first day of active suffering was pretty pathetic. I’m pretty pathetic. I should have suffered more. I guess there’s a bit of consolation in the fact that I’m so disappointed, haha!
Tomorrow I will know pain.
Journal Entry: May 29, 2009
I still haven’t eaten. I’m not starving myself to death, but I figure it’s an easy way to rack up some “pain points” for a while.
I keep struggling to come up with ways to actively suffer. I’ve banged my head into the wall a few times. I did push ups until I couldn’t move my arms. The lack of music is creating a void within the void. I hacked at my wall with a machete hoping I’d worry about what will happen when the landlord finds out. Unfortunately, that was actually kind of fun and I didn’t feel that guilty about it.
I’m already a broke-ass twenty-six-year-old loser, but I did burn the rest of my cash in a frying pan on the stove. Then I threw my whole wallet in there. F***, I hope I regret it. I kind of do already, but there hasn’t been any real repercussions yet so it’s hard to gauge my regret as of now. I have to quit my job. That will screw me over for sure. If I burn that bridge, it will surely all fall on top of me and melt my skin. Then I won’t even have a place to stay before too long, and I’ll have to deal with the reality of what my landlord says about the wall when I get evicted because I can’t pay the rent anymore. I hate dealing with people. It scares the shit out of me.
Speaking of fear... I was going to quit my job tomorrow, but I realized it would be much worse for me if I did right now, because I’m not at all mentally prepared to do it. Well, I just did it. I didn’t give two weeks notice, either. The conversation with my boss on the phone wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, and that sucks ass. I think he just lost a lot of respect for me, but that’s hardly a blow to a person with no self-respect. I didn’t even have to see his face. Maybe I should have done it tomorrow and in person. It would have been my first day back from my two days off, and it would have been a lot more painful if I’d of had to look him in the eye. I’m easily replaceable there, so it doesn’t matter to them at all, really. But now I’m f***ed, and this good.
No money, no ID, no social security card, no job, no girlfriend, no instruments, no music, no computer, and no food. I’ve wedged myself between a rock and a hard place. But that hardly matters when your trying to be a rock. I’ll fit right in.
Before I go, I have to do something f***ed up.
Okay, I just climbed up onto my roof and jumped off. I’ve always been afraid to do that, and now I know I had good reason to be afraid. I think I just severely sprung my ankle. This is by far the worst pain I’ve experienced since beginning of my quest for active suffering. It’s a real win, because I either deal with this, or go to a doctor and deal with that. Either path is pure torture. I suffer no matter what.
Journal Entry: May 30, 2009
I’ve been really hungry today and my ankle is getting worse. This is good.
I’ve run out of stupid ways to make myself suffer. This made me realize that I’m still being a coward. And being a coward is too luxurious for the new me. Cowardice and active suffering do not coincide. If I’m really going to make myself suffer, I’ll have to go out into the real world and deal with people. I’ll have to do the things I’m truly afraid of. Physical pain is too easy. It only requires one small act, and the rest is just merely dealing with the consequences, which you couldn’t avoid even if you wanted to. It’s not active enough. Neither is destroying things I like. Things like driving in the city, dealing with people, and asking for help will be torturous every single step of the way. That’s real suffering.
I’ve come too far to go back to go back now. Pain is all I’ve got going for me. If I don’t go for the pain, I’ll just end up back in that place where I’m laying down and wanting to scream but don’t even have enough in me to do it. It’s that suffocation. Anything is better than that. At least in my suffering, I can breath.
I have to really kick myself in the balls tomorrow. If I want to truly suffer, I’ll have to start planning ahead and thinking more clearly. Here are some things that I’ve got to force myself to do tomorrow.
1. Eat something. I can’t suffer if I’m dead.
2. Get my ankle looked at. I hope it’s not so bad that it can’t heal on it’s own. I can’t pay for it and I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid of people. I’m afraid of them thinking I’m a loser. I’m afraid of them knowing I’m broke and I’m afraid of wasting their time. I’m afraid I’ll be taking advantage of them. I don’t want to be needy. I don’t want them to think I’m stupid.
3. Apply for higher paying jobs. I’m afraid of commitment. I’m afraid of rejection. I’m afraid of being laughed at. I’m afraid of driving, for f***s sake! I’m afraid that I’ll dig myself in too deep. I’m afraid somebody will figure me out.
4. Get a new driver’s license at the D.M.V. The lines, the people, the rude workers... The fact that I’ll get lost on the way and scare myself shitless thinking that I could blow a stop light at any second.
Yeah, I’m really going to kick myself in the balls tomorrow. I’m not worth anything more than that.
Tomorrow, I will know pain.
The theme was suffering. 2,869 words. (Not even 5 pages.)
Active Suffering
Journal Entry: May 27, 2009
Suffer! Suffer, you worthless idiot! I must suffer! Yes, that is what I will do. I’ve never truly suffered. And I have never truly lived, either. Well, if I don’t have balls enough to live, then suffering is exactly what I deserve. Maybe I’ll at least be able to find some meaning in that. If I can’t, I’d have a hard time believing that there is any meaning to be found. I’m sick of all of this bullshit. And I’m sick of myself. What a pathetic existence I’ve carried myself through all of these years. Pain is the only thing that I can know now. It’s the only thing that I deserve. It’s the only thing left. I’ll start by getting rid of everything that brings me comfort and joy. Goodbye music. Goodbye computer. Goodbye, Rachel. I could have never made her happy, anyway. I’ve always been too weak and too cowardly. I’ve always been too detached and too hidden away from any real part of the world. I don’t deserve her. I’m afraid of commitment.
I hate everything about my life. And when I lay down to escape the world, I just want to get up and scream. Yet, there isn’t even any fuel to feed my rage. I can’t scream. It’s a quiet rage that is barely more audible than the sound of my own beating heart. Instead of getting up and screaming, I merely suffocate - but I don’t stop breathing. No, that would be too easy. One breath after another. One DAY after another. And it’s all meaningless. F*** this. I will know pain. My whole life has been inactive suffering. That’s nothing compared to active suffering. I know nothing of true pain, but I will. I want to die, but if I’m going to kill myself, I’m going to make sure I really did have too much pain to deal with. And if not... well, I don’t know what might happen. For the first time in my life, I know what I must do.
Journal Entry: May 28, 2009
I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’m a little hungry, but I’m certainly not suffering from hunger yet. Maybe I should punch myself in the face. Nah. Wait. Why not? I can’t puss out now. This moment has to be different from the rest of my life.
Okay, I’m back. I was bleeding. It was kind of funny. And it hurt like a bitch. Good for me.
Yesterday, I was going to give away my instruments, but I thought that I’d enjoy the act of giving them away, so I just smashed them all. I did the same with all of my CDs and my computer. It’s just me and my notebook now. (My notebook which apparently now has a drop of blood on it.) I’m trying to print neater than usual because I hate slowing down to do it. I’m very impatient. I want to stab myself in the leg with my pen. This is very torturous. F*** me! F*** me! F*** me! Retard f***, stop wasting pen strokes!
Suffering on purpose (active suffering) is hard. I knew it would be. That’s why I knew I had to do it. I’ll punish myself for my cowardice and lack of self-discipline. I can’t quit.
I broke up with Rachel last night. I’ll miss her terribly, but it was the act of breaking it off that was the real painful part. I always knew I should because she deserves better, I just never had the courage. Now I’m all alone. I should be, too. I don’t think she was that surprised. She knows how messed up I am. She cried, but I can only guess that they were not tears of loss. How could she miss someone like me? She said she hoped, for my own sake, that I’d get my head on straight. (I kind of told her what I was doing with the whole active suffering thing.) I do feel guilty, so I guess that’s a good thing. It worked out in every way it could have. I hope that I’m not too satisfied with the pain I’ve caused us both. It was for the best. And it’s killing me.
All in all, my first day of active suffering was pretty pathetic. I’m pretty pathetic. I should have suffered more. I guess there’s a bit of consolation in the fact that I’m so disappointed, haha!
Tomorrow I will know pain.
Journal Entry: May 29, 2009
I still haven’t eaten. I’m not starving myself to death, but I figure it’s an easy way to rack up some “pain points” for a while.
I keep struggling to come up with ways to actively suffer. I’ve banged my head into the wall a few times. I did push ups until I couldn’t move my arms. The lack of music is creating a void within the void. I hacked at my wall with a machete hoping I’d worry about what will happen when the landlord finds out. Unfortunately, that was actually kind of fun and I didn’t feel that guilty about it.
I’m already a broke-ass twenty-six-year-old loser, but I did burn the rest of my cash in a frying pan on the stove. Then I threw my whole wallet in there. F***, I hope I regret it. I kind of do already, but there hasn’t been any real repercussions yet so it’s hard to gauge my regret as of now. I have to quit my job. That will screw me over for sure. If I burn that bridge, it will surely all fall on top of me and melt my skin. Then I won’t even have a place to stay before too long, and I’ll have to deal with the reality of what my landlord says about the wall when I get evicted because I can’t pay the rent anymore. I hate dealing with people. It scares the shit out of me.
Speaking of fear... I was going to quit my job tomorrow, but I realized it would be much worse for me if I did right now, because I’m not at all mentally prepared to do it. Well, I just did it. I didn’t give two weeks notice, either. The conversation with my boss on the phone wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, and that sucks ass. I think he just lost a lot of respect for me, but that’s hardly a blow to a person with no self-respect. I didn’t even have to see his face. Maybe I should have done it tomorrow and in person. It would have been my first day back from my two days off, and it would have been a lot more painful if I’d of had to look him in the eye. I’m easily replaceable there, so it doesn’t matter to them at all, really. But now I’m f***ed, and this good.
No money, no ID, no social security card, no job, no girlfriend, no instruments, no music, no computer, and no food. I’ve wedged myself between a rock and a hard place. But that hardly matters when your trying to be a rock. I’ll fit right in.
Before I go, I have to do something f***ed up.
Okay, I just climbed up onto my roof and jumped off. I’ve always been afraid to do that, and now I know I had good reason to be afraid. I think I just severely sprung my ankle. This is by far the worst pain I’ve experienced since beginning of my quest for active suffering. It’s a real win, because I either deal with this, or go to a doctor and deal with that. Either path is pure torture. I suffer no matter what.
Journal Entry: May 30, 2009
I’ve been really hungry today and my ankle is getting worse. This is good.
I’ve run out of stupid ways to make myself suffer. This made me realize that I’m still being a coward. And being a coward is too luxurious for the new me. Cowardice and active suffering do not coincide. If I’m really going to make myself suffer, I’ll have to go out into the real world and deal with people. I’ll have to do the things I’m truly afraid of. Physical pain is too easy. It only requires one small act, and the rest is just merely dealing with the consequences, which you couldn’t avoid even if you wanted to. It’s not active enough. Neither is destroying things I like. Things like driving in the city, dealing with people, and asking for help will be torturous every single step of the way. That’s real suffering.
I’ve come too far to go back to go back now. Pain is all I’ve got going for me. If I don’t go for the pain, I’ll just end up back in that place where I’m laying down and wanting to scream but don’t even have enough in me to do it. It’s that suffocation. Anything is better than that. At least in my suffering, I can breath.
I have to really kick myself in the balls tomorrow. If I want to truly suffer, I’ll have to start planning ahead and thinking more clearly. Here are some things that I’ve got to force myself to do tomorrow.
1. Eat something. I can’t suffer if I’m dead.
2. Get my ankle looked at. I hope it’s not so bad that it can’t heal on it’s own. I can’t pay for it and I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid of people. I’m afraid of them thinking I’m a loser. I’m afraid of them knowing I’m broke and I’m afraid of wasting their time. I’m afraid I’ll be taking advantage of them. I don’t want to be needy. I don’t want them to think I’m stupid.
3. Apply for higher paying jobs. I’m afraid of commitment. I’m afraid of rejection. I’m afraid of being laughed at. I’m afraid of driving, for f***s sake! I’m afraid that I’ll dig myself in too deep. I’m afraid somebody will figure me out.
4. Get a new driver’s license at the D.M.V. The lines, the people, the rude workers... The fact that I’ll get lost on the way and scare myself shitless thinking that I could blow a stop light at any second.
Yeah, I’m really going to kick myself in the balls tomorrow. I’m not worth anything more than that.
Tomorrow, I will know pain.
