To quote a Muse song by the same name, “We are fucking fucked.” For the past five years, I’ve thought this next year couldn’t get any worse. I’ve been wrong every single fucking year. 2020 can’t be any worse than 2019… Wrong! 2023 is our year! Wrong! I thought 2016 was bad when I got divorced, my job got sent to India, and I got sued for $250,000 in the same year. Wrong! 2023 has been a much more difficult year.
With that being said, I’ve had a lot of personal growth in the last year. Believe me, I didn’t want it! I did, however, need it. 2023 has been such a shit-show of a year, I can’t even fathom a worse year. Actually, I can, but I’m not going down that road, or I’ll contemplate what a 9mm hollow point tastes like, and I’m not doing that!
I haven’t written a lot on here because the last few years have been dog shit. I’ve been dealing with unhealthy levels of anxiety and depression. I deal with this by working. Correction, I avoid it by working. I tend to work myself way to much and not get to the root cause of my anxiety and depression. That’s hard shit! No one wants to look at how they’re failing in life. Some of it, I cannot help. Some of it, I’m unwilling to do what is necessary to fix the situation because it either isn’t legal or the cost is greater than the situation. Being sad is different than depression. Growing up, I was rarely sad, but I didn’t understand depression and how it relates to self-esteem. Some people “eat their depression away.” I do not. I rarely eat. I sleep like shit, even when chemically induced. It is a very difficult thing to pull yourself out of. Add my personal events of 2022-2023, and those two years of hell have kept it’s knee on the back of my neck. The only think keeping me from suffocating is that I’m not on drugs that lower my ability to breathe. (Yes, I made a George Floyd joke. Fuck off!) I don’t want to die. I want to live and be happy. I just don’t know exactly what that is. I got a taste of it over the last two years, and that is the only think that’s kept me from giving up.
Instead of doing a lot of writing here, I’ve done a lot of old-school journal writing with a journal book and a fountain pen. It hasn’t always been easy, and it takes longer for me to write than it doe to type. It’s terribly inefficient, but there are some therapeutic aspects to it. I do get annoyed with all of my typos, but I understand it’s a slower, free-flowing thought process. I’ve been trying different things to help improve myself. I still fall back to my default work deflection, but I’m trying.
So what does all of this have to do with the title of this entry? I’m not the only one out there suffering. We see all of this “suffering” on social media about not being call the “right” pronoun (for people who don’t want to be labeled, they sure talk about labels a lot), but we do not see the silent sufferers like myself. We suffer in silence. We don’t blame others, but blame ourselves, sometimes too much. People who have a gift for manipulation see this and seize their opportunity to make their lives better by making ours worse. This can be anyone from a parent, sibling, child, partner, governments, etc. Our society is grooming a bunch of people who have zero skills to get out of their anxiety and depression. I have the skills, I just need to practice them. Our society is trying to groom the population to be spineless, worthless sacks of shit jelly so we can be easily controlled. Worse yet, we are being groomed to want to be controlled. We hear stories about pedophiles grooming children. Same shit here. Those in charge are grooming us to be fucked by them whenever they want. We have less and less voices to help us see how great we really are! We’re losing the champions of honor and love. Social media is a tool to manipulate us and to fuck us. We have so few “good guys” left that I think we’re fucking fucked.
I personally have been bullied my entire life. The one mistake every bully makes is mistaking my calm and quiet for weakness. It takes a lot for me to get fed up, but when I do, these bullies do not know what to do. They freeze and try to double down on their manipulations. Well, motherfuckers, I’ve had enough. When you grab a bully by the throat and start to squeeze, you see real fear in their eyes. You see the gears moving, processing, trying to figure up how they fucked up so royally. 2023 might have fucked me in the ass without the decency for lube or a reach-around, but I’m grabbing 2024 by the throat, and I’m starting to squeeze. If you want to fuck me, you better be prepared, because according to the Masters and Johnsons study, I have a 99.99% chance of having a bigger dick, and you’re gonna get fucked back, and I’m not talking about the gentle, loving, making my partner cum first (they always do). No, you fuck with me in 2024, and you’re going to get rage-fucked, using your tears for lube in a vain attempt to mask the pain and humiliation.
In 2024, I’m protecting myself and my family by any and all means. 2024, you’ve been warned.