Red eyed

To this point, it has all gotten back. Everything that lurked in the past, everything that was laying and screaming and running wild a couple of hours ago, returned. What could the reason possibly be? Who was responsible? Who was messed up?

This is the story of those tiny huge monsters that live inside us. It’s the story of those lingering parasites who feed and feed but not with flesh and blood.  At least, not yet. They feed with more important and vital things. They feed on thoughts and time and anger and tears. Yes, they feed on tears. They drink them, for tears are our liquefied feelings. They sip them slowly. They like torturing. They like to hear screams. That’s how they know they’ve won.  They like to slowly kill.
They mostly show up at night or when no one’s around. They like privacy. No one must be distracting in order for them to have their dirty fun. They like to amplify reactions and mostly all the bad feelings. They’re the ones who turn our eyes red with anger and make our blood boil.  They’re the ones that raise hell inside us. They’re the dirtiest most selfish creatures. They’re no good and no help to anybody.

They create a space inside from eating up too much. We fill it with food or we drink. That’s one way out but usually booze gives them power. It empowers them. They become stronger and more devastating. They get control over our mind, our mouth and hands and we tend to do bad things to us or spill it all out. We think that’s the thing to do, to spill out all those rotten thoughts, all those evil creations because we think it’s not our fault. We think we’re the victims and others are to blame. In reality, we are our own victims. But you don’t know who to blame, and with a massive ego which they take care of, we rarely blame ourselves. Who can help? Only we can. We want to sleep as much as we can because that’s when they shut up. They have no mercy and they make us react violently. They make our veins tremble and they make us shake.  They eat all up. They don’t really care.  They don’t give a fuck. They think only of themselves. They think of feeding more and more and more and we only get paler and paler and the moments of true happiness become rarer and when they come, we don’t feel them how we used to.

We think we find cures. We calm ourselves down. We think we can handle them. They don’t leave, they never leave as long as we give them shelter. As long as they are warm from the hell inside us. As long as we keep feeding them. We think we can do it. We live with the illusion  that they’re gone, that they’ve left. But no. Oh no. No way.
The thing we do is the worst that can be done.  We bottle it all up. We save reactions and violent impulses for later. We save more and more and more and we get shakes and at one point, it all cracks, it all breaks down and damages us as much as it can. They know our weak spots, they know where to hit.  They make us feel guilty of our birth. But it’s amazing, it’s just amazing how much we can endure. I don’t know who is to thank for, wether it is our mind, our heart,  our soul or our whole body, but we can take it. We can take tons of this.  It adds up, that’s true, but I don’t know to which point and I don’t know how much.. And I don’t want to find out.

Sometimes, the difference between how we react on the outside and how we react on the inside is incredible. And very, very big. It’s like an iceberg. The tip is what we show. We don’t show anything. Maybe some tears can come out but rarely. If we have to say anything that moment, we can only stutter something out. We come out as funny and nobody expects anything. On the inside, there’s another story and its plot is nowhere near to the outer one.

Everything’s falling down. All the good thoughts you’ve build to that point come collapsing down and in a second you feel like they never were there. The bad thoughts are born and the older ones grow.  There’s  massacre. You feel like you have the deepest pit of hell inside you, with all its flames and pits. Some call them demons. I don’t want go give them this power. And it’s awful. It’s awful overall. Some believe that the root of all these monsters is the lack of occupation. It may be so. Once you get them though, you can say goodbye to the focus. You can’t concentrate anymore because of all the stupid scenarios your mind creates. But it’s not to blame, you got it to do so, you have pulled it on this path.

Another thing they do is expand your ego. Oh yes, they certainly do that. You see yourself above everyone, and maybe the worst thing, you see yourself above the ones close to you. You don’t worry about them anymore, they’re just there and won’t leave because you can’t be left. You’re the greatest, aren’t you? The world is spinning around you and you know that for sure. You think you deserve more and more. You’re expectations get higher and higher and when things don’t turn out the way you expect, violent reactions and muddy thoughts appear.  Because you can’t be treated this way. How dare they not fulfill your expectations? How dare they think of themselves? How dare they have fun without you? And if you’re invited, how dare they disturb you? How dare they have fun with someone else? How dare they have other friends? Nah, you can’t have this. You can’t be treated like tcan’t
If you can’t hold it in until the kettle cools of and if you’re not patient, it explodes. And then, you start hurting them. You tell them this from your own messed up perspective. If they care, they’ll get hurt, but you’ll notice it only when it’s too late. It’s bad. Hurting someone just because you feel bad about a scenario in your head that was unrealistic to start with, not happening.

And then, you start hating everybody. Blinded, not realising that life is the best thing that could happen to someone, you start hating it. You don’t really care. You want things, but not specific things. You don’t know what you want. You are unable to decide what’s important or not. You can’t set targets for you to achieve, and if you do, you can’t achieve them and this just deepens the already dark mood.
You develop bad reflexes. You check your social accounts every couple of minutes. You check others. Where are they, they’re not online. Right, because they don’t care.  Oh, they are online. Why aren’t they talking to me? Oh right, because they don’t care. Your take the love they have for themselves as selfishness. They’re all against you they can help you. Nobody can. And when they try to, you push them away. You’re fine, they’re messed up. How can they be like this to you.

You’re blind.
You think of giving up, on leaving.

You think of hurting yourself. That can be done. You try. If you’re powerful, you get addicted. More addicted to the attention you get for exposing it than to the act itself. If you’re more powerful, you try and then give it up.
This is a disease, I’m sure of it. And within that basic frame common to all of us, the are many more or less subtle variations. It’s a disease that adapts to the weaknesses of the victim. It’s also a great time killer. Oh yes. It’s the best way to pay attention to nothing at all and concentrate on nothing and care too much and get hurt by the tiniest most innocent things and gestures. It’s the art of getting angry at anyone on nothing.

But sometimes, fellows, you get the hang of it. You chose to avoid its reactions and stop the instinct. You chose to kill them for a bit or at least shut them up. You chose to take them of you and take a breath. You look around at what’s left after this war. You know deep down that there’s at least one more to come, but you don’t think of it. You rrebuild what you’ve taken down and apologise for what you’ve said. You start enjoying yourself and your life and the people around you, the few, the brave few that stood tall. You get things done. You smile and laugh and you’re at the highest point. Your happy. You’re so high.

It takes just a tiny push..