i despise being me. it makes sick to the stomach. every thing i am is full and slow. slow to anger, slow to retort, slow to defend. dull in appearance, in intelligence and in action. iâm weak and sad and angry about it. i canât change it. i am stuck in this brain of mine. a biological prison i have no way of escaping.
even an abused dog snarls and snaps in defense of its still. i sit there idly, weeping pathetically. the words to defend myself come too slow and too late.
instinctually, i push down my emotions and when they finally return, later in the darkness of night as i lay in bed, they are 10 fold. they crash over me like a tsunami and drown me.
i wish i was anyone but me. iâm so motionless. so fearful. i am the bottom of the bottom. i have no respect and no love.
i have nothing, no beauty, no brains, no humour, no cunning, no wit, no sense, no dignity, no self control, no motives, no talent, no creativity, no friends, no command, no importance, no fight, no courage.
my finest and only quality is my obedience; my ability to move as commanded and when commanded no matter what and by how. i move like a robot and accomplish whatever is asked of me with no question. a well trained dog who expects nothing in return.
kill me and skin me and lay my hide out as the rug i lived my life as, let people wipe their dirty feet on me and walk across my back. lord knows thatâs how i lived its a fitting death.
i am nothing and i feel everything.