Other A Thread To Ignore And Forget

ArchieTheFel

Born to ":3", forced to "Hi, welcome to the store"
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Here will be a thread of personal writings put out to the internet to be lost in a sea of others. No BBCcode, no fancy graphics, just someone and their keyboard who has so much to say but nobody to say it to. Maybe I'll finally be seen, or maybe I'll still be ignored. Either way, someone must be reading this.
 
Cat If I Fits I Sits GIF by happydog
 
Purity
Pure unadulterated rage. Have you ever experienced it? I feel like I'm constantly burning on the inside, like my stomach is filled with thousands of hot coals and they're constantly being fueled. Everyone around me is grabbing fistfuls of fuel and tossing into me, and soon it will become too much. I'll overheat and combust, and nobody will be safe from me.

I've tried being kind, I've tried reasoning. That won't work. I've tried screaming and yelling, and shoving them down like a ruthless brute, and they threaten to run home to their mothers, crying like I've hurt them. They clutch their feigned wounds and they whine pathetically like I'm the one who pushed them down. They don't know the half of what I wish I could do. A violent tongue lashing isn't even half of it.

Perhaps I could be less violent in my words; some say that being civil is how you change minds. But tell me why I don't se progress when I am civil? Why am I the only one who seems to have coals burning in my chest? Why should some get a place to say diminishing things about others' identities of which they can't help; When they're not hurting anyone?

If I was an intelligent person, maybe I could take it upon myself to introduce bloodshed to the mix. What good are words when you can simply cut out the middle-man? Maybe I could even take on peoples of power. Corrupt beasts with no eye except for their own agenda. But then what would that make me?

I wonder if anyone else has this same anger. Why haven't we truly tried to overthrow who oppress us? There are plenty of us to overtake them. The only reason we haven't is fear of retaliation from strong forces. But if we outnumber them, they can't do anything.

I am purely angry. If I take it out, it will be on those who deserve it.
 
Dirty, Blank Wall
Going back to your sibling's high school to watch a performance is objectively terrifying. There's so many bad memories associated with those white brick, prison-like walls.
I was fortunate enough never to be bullied. I was never made fun of, or laughed at during my times on the stage in the theater, unless I was purposely looking for a laugh. In fact, I was never noticed at all. I was always in the back. I was always quiet. Unassuming; my brothers before me were all practically celebrities at the high school. Anyone who ever remembered me is long gone, and have already forgotten me in forging their futures. I was never an influence like my brothers before me, or my siblings after me.

Maybe I would have preferred to be bullied. Maybe I'd be better if I had a solid reason to be so sick. I remember the days where I'd hide behind the curtains of the auditorium's stage and just let myself break down. Nobody could see or hear me in the shadows. But maybe I wish they had. I remember the days where I'd look up at the pulleys for the curtains, tied in such a way to coincidentally mock my mental state. I remember wondering how hard it would be to disappear after class had finished, and what they might think if they found me the next day--the curtains pulled wide open, and only me on the stage, strung up like a puppet. A spectacle. Maybe they'd whisper about me for a week, talk about what a shame it was or how selfish I was. But then they'd move on. Nobody would cry to think of me. I'm insignificant. And maybe that's how it should stay.

Maybe I should have done it. Maybe there's so many times where I should have just done it. Maybe if I wasn't a coward who was afraid of a little pain before complete relief. I'm so tired.
 

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