Contentment

Transmitter wrote this in the wee hours:

There is much to be said for contentment and painlessness, for these bearable and submissive days, on which neither pain nor pleasure is audible, but pass by whispering and on tip-toe. But the worst of it is that it is just this contentment that I cannot endure. After a short time it fills me with irrepressible hatred and nausea. In desperation I have to escape and throw myself on the road to pleasure, or, if that cannot be, on the road to pain….A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal and sterile life. – Steppenwolf, Herman Hesse

Mediocrity and complacency had gripped me, grabbed me by the wedding finger and tied me to the marriage bed. I had to leave my finger behind, but I’ve broken free. Now I run wild through the streets like a mad man. Starving for intensity, I consume everything that will come near me.

I live off of the highs and lows of life, the raw emotion. I want laughter and sobbing. I want passion and anger. Bipolar is another word for alive. We’ve over medicated ourselves. We take drugs to smooth out the crests and troughs. We lack fervor. We are neither happy nor sad. We are impotent.

Soft as Snow, But Warm Inside

Transmitter wrote this in the wee hours:

I see the world with two minds. I am a dichotomy. I’m torn between male and female, surrounded and alone, rational and crazy. I see the patterns all around me and I can assemble them into equations, break them into logical chunks that can balance across the equal sign. I watch the flux and influx from traffic and work to conversations and emotions. Everything follows a sign wave, moving in and out along a predetermined graph. Solve the equation and follow the patterns and you know where everything is going. Extrapolated futurisms.

At times too many variables come in and tangents form. I try to follow them while keeping the main path in site, but I get overwhelmed and lost. Then, the logical side of me breaks down and exposes raw emotions. These emotions corse through me like fire burning complex carbon chains and explode in boughts of insanity. My family lacks mental health, so I’m predisposed. Must I imbibe these neuroses? Is there a Psychotics Anonymous?

If I appear cold and detached it’s because ice is the only way I’ve found to hold in the burning inside.

Reasons are Pretty Excuses

Transmitter wrote this in the wee hours:

I’m not doing this because I hate you. I’m doing it because I love myself.

P.S. I love the things that let me love.

Swing Low Sweet Chariot

Transmitter wrote this in the late evening:

I feel guilty for not feeling guilty.

Alone in Crowds

Transmitter wrote this in the early morning:

From my childhood things were always different. As an only child until the age of eight and treated as such for some years to come, I was left alone with nothing but my surroundings and my imagination to entertain me. While the other boys played tackle football on the asphalt square mile that served as a playground, I walked the perimeter, tracing the tar-filled cracks, and jumped rope with the girls. I played with the girls not because I wanted to be one, but because I felt disconnected, above, the boys. The boys were stupid, struggling to evolve beyond apes. Their social circle was a constant battle of dominance: the strongest, the fastest, the biggest, the loudest. In second grade the girls displayed a clearly higher level of development, a maturity that I could relate to. While the other boys reenacted war games with their G.I. Joes, mine were organized by color into plastic bins. My isolation taught me attention to detail.

I was queer in the sense of being truly different. I still liked girls and they liked me. I probably went further with any girl in second grade than the other boys. I still like girls. If I ever had any homosexual tendencies during my development, they were instantly repelled by the overall stupidity/repulsiveness of the male stereotype. I could engage the girls. They were both attractive and intellectual. They quickly grasped social concepts of conversation and reason, while the boys sorted things out with a king-of-the-hill, strongest-takes-all system. Being small, I couldn’t survive in this system even if I wanted to. I suffered the wrath of the boys at first, but they quickly became distracted by inflated balls and egos.

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