1
I can do better than hate. Hate comes from the wrong place. Hate is a termination of thought. Hate takes away your opponents voice. I may know that I'm in the right, but the moment I hate I stop thinking. The moment I stop thinking I lose. It doesn't matter who's right at that point. I'm a hater and I'm not thinking any more, I'm just a frightened animal bearing its teeth.
It's hard not to hate when you feel like you're in a corner. You know the feeling like you're in a corner, the feeling you can't run and the only escape is attack. When I think about it, most of the things that have made me hate have been illusions. You won't run, you can't run.
The people behind this thing are not your tribe. This shitting thing is going to change everything, it will destroy you. They don't care.
You can't pretend it isn't there, that's how it got you in this corner.
Hate it. Shout at it. Kill it.
You lose.
That's when you realise you have got to become part of it. That's when you realise that being engulfed completely by your opponents irrationality is the only way to stop you destroying yourself. That you are the only person that needs to be defeated. That this path, no matter how hard it's going to be, is the only way you can be free.
When you realise that you are the evil, that you are the enemy and that no one else on this planet can stop you but yourself, there is no need to hate anything any more.
I am alone and nothing else matters. Nothing else exists.
The world becomes a game the moment you cease to belong to it.
2
Someone once asked me, “When do we get the old you back?”. I can't remember what my response was but it took all my cunning not to say something like “You'll see” or “I killed him”. It made me think for a bit about all the people I had been in the past. As far as I could remember I had only been three things; a child, a fiend or a mess. When had they known me previously? When I was an arrogant little shit with more brains than sense and a predisposition towards violence, Or a satanic necromantic with an insatiable appetite for booze and chemicals? I knew what they wanted. 9 to 5, no dreams tonight, come for a pint, tread water, take your medication.
Fuck them. I'm trying to move forwards. I'm not a stuttering shuffling retard like everyone else.
Not everyone gets a second or third chance. I'm lucky. I make my own chances. If I fuck up it doesn't matter. I'm not scared of work. I just want a job I like. I don't want to wreck my head up on drugs again. I'll probably have a few too many drinks occasionally because that's what I seem to do when I'm bored and I'm on my own. I'll get a hobby or something. I'll try to eat whatever I'm given. Everyone else around here seems to live off fast food and crisps. If all else fails my mums a good cook. It makes me feel like an ungrateful shit.
“I know you probably spent hours preparing this no doubt delectable feast but all I need is a cheese sandwich.”
“Where the hell did you put the Dijon mustard mad woman?”
“It goes in the fucking fridge.”
Fucking hell I need to move out.
***
I ask myself “What is the worst thing I do?” I Scrap that. I ask “Why do people approach me differently to everyone else”. All I see in some peoples eyes is fear, mistrust or a reluctant intoxication. They want 9-5. They might even think I'm Satan. Good luck to those ones.
I ask the first question again and think about it for a bit.
“The worst thing I do is the thing which ultimately makes me the unhappiest.”
It all seems easy for a second but it's not that simple. What makes me happy now could wind up making me regret tomorrow. I need to get it right now in order to be ultimately happy. I've got plenty of regrets already. I just need to know where I want to be. That is where I will find myself.
I have a hunch though that I'm not doing this for me. I was quite happy with fucking my life up and dying young, mad and quick.
Maybe I tried too hard at that. I can no longer distinguish between what has actually happened in my life from this nightmare that constantly haunts me.
I am burning inside.
I hate being sober and I'm so close to hating everything right now.
***
I can no longer escape the feeling that there's something more at stake here than my life. It makes me paranoid and fear is dripping from me. It needs to be overcome. I'm sat here and I feel like I'm tripping off all the acid I've ever taken in my life. My wounds don't heal any more.
I've got two books in front of me. Thus Spake Zarathustra and The Complete Poems and Plays of T.S. Elliot.
One man talks of crossing the abyss
One man tells me in prose that from now on, whatever I experience, be it real or a creation of my mind, only serves to undeceive me.
***
He said to me, “Even if it's probably just in your head it's real enough. If you do nothing you remain ignorant either way. The connection in your head which has been made must be broken. To do this two choices are available. Play it through in your head. Or attack. It doesn't matter. Once you've played it through in your head a hundred times or so to no avail you will probably at this point be aware that you are in position. You have become your worst nightmare. You're going to die a horrible death. Attack.”
I shouldn't have listened to him. He started talking to me in my dreams.
***
“Fuck your system, Fuck your pills, Fuck your self, Fuck your bills”
***
The Dr wanted to put me on lithium. Every so often something like this comes along.
“You do realise we have to file a report to the DVLA shortly and that non-compliance could result in suspension of your driving licence”
I'm a reasonable person so I asked what it was all about.
“You will receive a blood test to check your kidneys are healthy enough to handle this shitty brain kosh. You will then take it and receive blood tests every three months to make sure your precious kidneys are OK and that you are still complying with your treatment”
I'm a reasonable person.
I went to His house and got down on all fours. He then picked up an axe handle and burst my left kidney and took me to the hospital.
Fucking bastard
3
So I'm in the ward, I've got pipes coming out of me everywhere and a machine next to me beeps and chirps like a mindless budgerigar. I explain that I fell whilst hopping a fence and I get told it is quite common for this injury to occur whilst doing such things. The kidney has been saved but will never regain full function. I will have to be more careful next time.
Pain is stupid leaving the body. Jesus fucking Christ this hurts.
So I start to wonder what the the hell I'm doing this for. Any thing's better than the fear and paranoia but at least I had an idea of what might happen then, even if it was terrible. Now I'm completely fucked. The world thinks I'm insane, I've rejected their cure in the most psychotic way conceivable and despite the agony I feel elated. I guess I'm addicted to the madness.
So I think about how it started. The dreams which became indistinguishable from my memories. All pointing to some glorious or painful conclusion. Not knowing for sure who I am any more. That's why I'm doing this. To find myself and to find the truth. Perhaps I'll find that it's all false and by altering my perception of the past I've subconsciously created the future for myself. I quite like that. Either way I'm going to find peace. The morphine will kick in soon.
***
“The whole notion of a god is absurd. It serves nothing more than a primitive solution to inconsistencies in our understanding of nature. Its inherent arbitrariness defiles the true majesty and complexity of existence. If I'm shown to be wrong I imagine god being observed laughing maniacally somewhere in the centre of the universe pissing lies out of his mighty rod of unreason in order to defile his own creation that drove him mad to begin with.”
I concurred
***
I check myself out of hospital two days later with a large prescription of pain killers and some sound advice as to what I should eat and drink for the foreseeable future so as not to poison my blood with my own toxic waste. I've decided to avoid everyone. Not out of shame, but because I feel that if I laugh just a little bit my sides will literally split. I pick up the drugs and get reminded to be careful with them. I was hoping they would be the start of a beautiful adventure but there's always someone out there to ruin your fun. I'll take it day by day for a bit and see what happens. I'm not sure if it's the painkillers or the cathartic effect of the blow to the side. Everything seems to be flowing through and around me. I feel good. I still don't know where I'm going.
***
I dreamt. I'm sat against the bench outside my local. I am rolling a cigarette and I'm taking my time over it. I am leaving the next day and it's maybe for good. An inner voice is telling me: “Wherever you go someone is waiting for you”. I lick the paper and with a flick of my fingers complete the cigarette in one swift movement and light it. One of the local girls comes up to me and hugs me. We kiss. An inner voice is telling me: “Wherever you go someone is waiting for you”.
This hasn't happened yet. I still don't know where I'm going.
***
The pain has subsided more or less. I'm down to the last few pills and I wont need any more after that. Lithium is out of the question for the time being but other drugs are being put on the table. I try to explain that I'm not disciplined enough to take something everyday when I don't need it. The Dr thinks I'm joking and reminds me about the DVLA. I say something about getting a driving licence in another country and living here only 60 days per year. He's blatantly heard it before.
I say, “OK, I'm scared to take anything because of my kidney.”
He says,“OK. I'll send you another appointment and we'll talk in two weeks.”
On my way out I hear a whisper from somewhere. “I'm still here.”
***
I dreamt. I didn't have to attack. My worst nightmare had vanished. Taken in one of the worst ways imaginable no doubt. An inner voice told me I was free now and I needn't worry any more.
It was him. It was my worst nightmare. Freedom was always death to me. I broke down. I woke up in tears.
***
I'm in hell. Every moment in this place is an eternity. I'm still here and I still don't know where I'm going. My side throbs and I'm not even sure why any more. When I sleep I dream of death. Every morning I wake up enlightened and spend the day in an eternal dream of destruction.
The time on the TV set said 21:13. I didn't know the date. I didn't even know why it had happened. People were dancing on the streets. Maybe they were rioting. All I knew is that the world as I knew it was over.
It hadn't happened yet but it was like even though I had all of eternity I was powerless to stop it.
***
I put the dreams down to the painkillers and the withdrawal. Perhaps the stress is building up. Money's tight and although I no longer feel like I'm in hell any more I sure don't want to be here. I'm starting to get out a bit more. Being alone is intolerable. All I do is make plans and then find myself crippled by my own unshakeable inertia or the cold harsh reality of not having the resources or the amorality required to achieve my goals in a time period that solves my immediate problems. The feeling in my gut now tells me that although what I'm doing has become almost entirely Quixotic, it's now too late to go back. For some reason I still feel guilt.
4
Wait without hope
Wait without love
Think without thought
The worst thing I do is think and I'm still doing it. All I've got to do is make the correct choices. I think of William Blake's Heaven and Hell. Hell fills a man's heart with wickedness and a man turns towards evil. Heaven fills a man's heart with goodness and he turns away from evil. It sounds easy but if it was I would have no choice. I would then cease to be a man. That is why I still think I suppose. I need to be good though. Even though I turned away from wickedness at the start it's not enough. I need to find goodness.
I go back to the start and I recall the two books that set me on this path.
One man talks of crossing the abyss
One man tells me in prose that from now on, whatever I experience, be it real or a creation of my mind, only serves to undeceive me.
I'm going round in circles.
***
“When you have a lump in the back of your throat it is time to stop thinking. It is one of your body’s ways to stop you hyper-ventilating. Believe me; you don’t want to find out the other ways.”
***
“All thought is paranoia. Paranoia is ignorance. Ignorance is fear”
So I'm thinking. It's not all bad. Thought is what happens between wanting something and acting out your wish. Fear is what happens between wanting something and acting out your wish. Action is not the only rational choice. If I only want something because it is good or only want the goodness from it I have nothing to fear. I only feel fear when I do not know for sure that what I want is right. I only think when I do not know for sure what I want to do.
I still don't know where I'm going.
An inner voice asks me; “What are you waiting for?”
I'm too much of a coward to answer. I need to think.
I suppose I'm not going to be here forever.
***
It's Ten. I'm out drinking. I leave the cubicle in the toilets and he's there at the sink washing his hands. I join him and turn the tap on. The perspective of seeing both ourselves in the mirror and the sound of both taps running fills the moment with a kind of hypnotic quality.
“How is your kidney?”
I look into his eyes in the mirror and see noting but power. I look into my own eyes and see nothing but fear, mistrust and reluctant intoxication. I remain silent.
“I'll assume it's better. Something else is the matter isn't it?”
I smile. “I still don't know where I'm going”
“You think to much. Just go anywhere. You'll find what you want.”
I smile. “Where ever I go someone is waiting for me”
“What are you waiting for then?”
I smile. “The worst thing I can do now is wait.”
He smiles. “Good Luck”