Freak on Display
13 years ago:
I am ugly and useless. It couldn’t be more embarrassing. I am a clumsy acting fool and I am very drained in spirit. I have been desperately treading water for the past twenty-seven years and I am so very tired. I have no appreciation that life could be any different from what it has been. How can I accept this? Living in tiresome mediocrity, out of my own design and harsh judgments of others.
Never have I welcomed the daunting prospect of life, which seems like a thousand vacant years. Never have I enjoyed anything enough to hold it as a basis for vocation. Never have I had enough concentration to comprehend anything completely. Never have I told myself, “I really am OK” or acted accordingly. Never have I been the equal to anyone, only have I been inferior.
Always with these feelings, I tread abandoned – by myself and others so crucial – in the middle of an ocean, which when calm is a chore I resent, and when stormy is the torture of hell. Please don’t dismiss this, it is painfully real to me. Please, I beg for compassion, even though I may be indulging in excessive self-pity. I am desperate. If only I could scream, but I am all-screamed-out and I’m finding it hard not to let the sea take me, for if it does only then would I have peace.
As you hear [read] this, would what you do or say be any different to what has been done or said many times before? Would life be any different for me? It seems so futile to mention this to you but I am mentioning it anyway. Would you send me somewhere I haven’t been before? Or would you lead me to a road I haven’t walked before? What else can I do?
How do I change an image of myself that has been reflected for at least half my life? I look in the mirror and particular features are repulsive to me. How could any woman I find attractive be attracted to me?
I am such an embarrassment to look at and to listen to. The things I say and do only a fool would be worthy of. I cannot bring myself to think of certain things I have done, and the way I have led my life.
I am ashamed of so much I have done and I am ashamed of so little I have accomplished. It is true that I see myself as a failure, preparing me to fail again and again.
This gift of life I am so ungrateful of and of the person I am who leads it is now such a sick joke. How could it be any other way? How? After twenty-seven years can I ever be different? What else can I do?
Update:
I am still breathing.