Burden

Hey there.

Everything is in place. Everything is ready. I’m now certain of my destination. I know where I’m going to go, and I’m going to put everything I’ve got behind it. I’m not going to get tired or lazy or complacent. There is no second chance, there is no backing down and there is no backup plan. I’m gambling it all on a single shot. Everything is riding on this. My future, the weight of years, every burned bridge, every person that hates my name, everything I’ve given up, everything I’ve worked at for years, my friends now and the people I’m going to meet. The person I’m going to be. 

I need to do this. I’m going to do it. There’s no question about it, and there is no backing down. I’ve decided my path, and now I’m just need to force that dream to become real. This is the final post on this blog. 

I’m getting rid of the past. Of things that weigh me down and stop me from doing what I need to do and being who I need to be. As much as this is about my knowledge, it’s also a test of resolve. Of how much I want it. Of whether or not I can resist the negativity and just fucking believe in myself. If I can throw all my faith into my own prowess, and make myself do whatever it takes, under infinitesimal odds, and be victorious. And that’s why I need to get rid of this. 

I’ve realised that for so many years, there’s been a common denominator. The reason for so much misguided self-hatred, the reason I never believed I was good enough or even a good person. Fuck all of that. I’m not doing this for the people that hate me. I’m doing this for me. 

A few days ago, I went out with a small black book and burned it to cinders, and threw the rest into a lake, far, far away. 

I cut my hair short as a reminder to myself. 

I’m finishing here too. Getting rid of it, because this blog doesn’t belong to me. Not entirely. This blog belonged to a boy that thought he loved someone horribly, horribly bad for him. 

I’ve grown since then, and I will never go back to that hell. I know my worth as a person. I deserve better than to be the emotional crutch of an egotistical, emotionally unstable, immature, cruel, vindictive, vainglorious narcissist. I spent years believing that that was something to aspire to be. To constantly feel guilt for someone else’s mental instability. To feel inferior to someone else’s bloated ego. To think that I actually thought such a horribly broken human being could ever, ever have a modicum of self-awareness. 

I’m sick to death of biting my tongue to not offend someone that could so blindly hurt me and feel not guilt or remorse for being emotionally manipulative. 

If the person I think is reading this is reading it, I want you to take solace that, if I were a nicer person, I’d pity you. Currently, I feel hate, but soon enough I won’t remember you at all. Next time you break down, or suffer at the hands of someone else, or grow up and drop the ego, or even, even  develop a conscience, I want you to know that you’ll have to find someone else to save you from the chaos that is your mind. You are a sick person, and in any other context, I’d feel sorry for you. But as it stands, you can suffer for all I care. 

I want you to know that you hurt me, and you get to keep that spiteful victory. 

But I’m going to forget about you, and be happy far, far away, in a place you won’t be able to poison, and that will be my spiteful victory. 

So now we’ve both said petty, passive aggressive shit about each other, and that’s the last time I’m going to think about you. 

Well, now that’s off my chest, I can get on with being happy. 

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