Push the button. Free from distractions. Others look on. Are they laughing at me? Today is the start of my 4th year in the job. Every move in the past has promised something better. I don't think anything has ever delivered. The mocking has grown less - but I am a brooder, so I still remember. I cannot make eye contact for long. Am I afraid of what I may see, or what might be seen in me? Time to change the disc. Paranoia. Why is he looking at me? What did that comment really mean? Stop laughing at me goddammit! My apathy is too deep rooted. Squeeeek! Hog calling. Hey pig. Photogenic. Not me. I don't like the way I look when I smile - it never looks genuine to me. Like it's been painted on. Or like the deranged grin of a lunatic. Not surprising. Flex. Spout random crap - if I don't think I can forget the pain. Briefly. Sucked into the void within for a moment. Whirlpool. Must... Fight... The... Tide... Don't like the smell of it. Line up. Take your shot. Poke, taunt, mock - the amazing geek boy will take it all and bounce right back - only a little more dead inside. I have been dead inside for so long that decay has set in and I stink of putrescence. "I wanna fuck you like an animal. My whole existence is flawed. You get me closer to God." Suit spotting from the train window. So many suits. So few axe wielding psychopaths. Rain falls. But it cannot wash away my emptiness. I want to wake up in the morning and not think "what is the fucking point?" My site probably has more uses of the word "fuck" than any other at work - and yet it was the only one that the test content filtering box let through. Heh. Ftagn. Crowd navigation by Brownian motion. Double espresso - time for 3 coffees before I get to work. I do not want this.
Thursday, 21 October 1999
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