I make coffee and I think of how casual and common evil is for the human race. I look at the cute cat mug that says "made in china" and think about how I hold a product of slavery. And then I think about how I am also a slave. How I busted my ass yesterday in the back of a huge multimillionaire chain store for a pittance salary. My body is sore. The coworkers I laugh with aren't even friends. They're just faces.
I'm reminded of how weak my stupid female body is. Even though I'm stronger than I used to be it's still not even a fraction of what the men on my team can do.
My rage for humanity starts choking me. I see red. I want to destroy something. I want to kill. I want to die. I want somewhere to put the anger. Instead, I shrug and tell myself "it is what it is" and try to suppress it until a mild inconvenience makes me scream at the universe for allowing all of this to exist. And if I accidentally let the demon out around others, they look at me like I'm a fucking insane piece of shit.
I have diarrhea. I'm losing weight. Stress? Or cancer? What should I eat? Everything will kill me. The fat in the burger. The sugar in my coffee. The char on the toast. The parasites in the salad. Is my hair thinning? Are my teeth starting to rot or have I just been clenching too long? They hurt for awhile. Then stop.
I have mucus in my airway. Covid damage? Asthma? Maybe I've got early copd? I feel wrong. Weird.
I see my aging parents and want to vomit at the picture of my future. I worry about my mom because I still love her. I start panicking.
Then, I think... What is even the point? This is all so worthless! In just decades I will be rotting in the ground.
Later, at night, I drink a beer and suddenly I feel okay again.
I hate it here.
I hate you, humanity, so so much.
You did this to me. You did this to everyone.
If I tell anyone, they tell me to go take a pill about it. Even the robots have to say that now. My rage only grows until I don't even recognize myself anymore.
