Date: 06/03/25

You just know it when something is not right, something inside you just tells you so, that whatever you are doing or not doing is not right, apart from that there are other more obvious signs from less perceptive ones, like myself. Signs like being always at the bottom of the hierarchy, like watching your juniors who joined way later than you get way ahead of you, or like you being not happy all the time while you are in that space, like your soul is pulling you, begging you to just get the fuck out of here, like a child does to his mother when he knows that the present venue is not pleasant and he would much rather do something more appealing with that time.

In that regard, children are so much smarter than us adults. They always know what they dislike and like and would never, at least never voluntarily, do something that could “no!” They would rather not do. When I was a child, I knew what I did not want, so accordingly, I tried my best to stay the hell away from it.

Somewhere as I crashed into my adulthood (cause I never landed, landing would imply some smoothness, mine was far from it), I lost that instinct. Not only that, I seem to have gained a sort of ultra-magnetic attraction towards things that I know I could never like. Like a moth to a flame, I seem to delve into such things, stockpiling the mountain of regret even higher. This unbridled sense of gathering up even higher and higher resentment only seems to be getting impractical.

Today, I witnessed another one of those self-loathing, embarrassing moments where you have to watch someone else get the stuff or recognition that you hoped you would/could get, whilst you are assigned some random cleaning chores like some fucking janitor. And the only way you had to stop yourself and your ego to scramble into tiny little bit pieces is by telling yourself, “you are a big boy, you can take it.”

So what do I do? So I took it, passively, and now I am full of disgust, resentment, hatred, hell in general. It’s funny, after getting shit-faced by so many for so long, you would think that you get used to it, maybe it gets easier. Trust me, it does not. It never gets easier. My little bruised ego just goes into hiding for a while but always comes out of its shell like a snale only to be hurt and tucked away again.

So I did just that. I hid, in my own body, my room inside my own flesh, trying to unhear, to unsee the little smirks, the shit-eating grins, the knowing gaze of the Principal who knows full well of what he did but feigns ignorance all the same.

I didn’t want to return today. I did not want to stop walking. I just wished that the road would never end, so when it eventually did as roads always do, I took the path another, fourth path, hoping it would lead me not to my house

I just wanted to escape, to just let this all go and never do this ever again. I wonder, is there even a point where any of these get easier? Even as I write this, I want to ball my fucking eyes out. If there is a rebirth and a next life, I just pray that I am born as someone talented who is always at the pinnacle of the hierarchy and manages all that almost effortlessly and not as some fucking bottom feeder, living by and trying to keep his ego alive by the little bits and scraps of leftover compliments that he may or may not get on a very good day.

This might be the longest I have ever written. I was hoping to feel better after putting it into ink, but I still feel heavy and sad and unwanted, an all-around idiot who doesn’t have a clue what the fuck he is up to.