Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • The most true statement in all of existence is that Life is a Bitch. Of all the variations - life's unfair, life's hard - none ring more true to me than life being a bitch. If you show any sign of weakness, any soft spot that can be exploited, life comes at you hard. Any shred of happiness you hope to obtain is ripped away from the ones that need it most. Wealth, good fortune and easy living comes to the least deserving, leaving the rest to the hell we call "reality".

    I've been lucky. I was born into a middle-class family. I've always had a home. A warm bed. Food to eat. Compared to most of the world, I've been well off. But for some reason, none of that has brought me the happiness I hope for. Whenever things start to go my way, when it seems like life may be cutting me some slack, there's a curve ball thrown into the mix. The rug is pulled out of under me and all of a sudden I'm tumbling down the rabbit hole. Except even Alice has more luck than I do. Instead of some mystical wonderland, I'm just stuck falling in this never ending pit of self-loathing and regret.

    I have a philosophy: Life's to short to have regrets. If it's in the past, it's over. You can't undo the things that have been done so don't worry. No matter how hard I try to live this, I can't help but hate myself. I'm an idiot. I always have been. I've taken all of the good things in my life and spat on them. I'm not worthy of being happy. The luxuries I live with are wasted on a screw up like me. Every day I make mistakes. The same stupid mistakes I've made since I was a child. I never learn. I never grow up. I'm stuck in a paradox of torment and there's no escape.

    I'm addicted to pain. Over the years I've come to discover that pain intrigues me. Not in a suicidal, depressing way - most of the time at least - but in a generally fascinating way. I like the different types of pain I can inflict on myself. It's so mind blowing that I can tell the difference between a burning, stinging sensation like a hang nail as opposed to a sharp object penetrating my skin or an erase burning through different layers of flesh. And that's just physical pain. Emotionally, I'm a train wreck, and I think I secretly love it.

    Why else would I do the things I do? Why else would I say the things I say? How can I have such incredible influences in my life and turn out to be the disappointment I am? Because I've learned there's no use. Everyone dies in the end. From the moment we're brought into this world, every breath we take brings us closer to our demise. Why even try? We as a species our killing our planet and just fucking society over. Nothing we do seems to make things better. We have high points. But how can we have gone through the Holocaust and not have learned enough to stop World War 3 from springing up in the next decade. Human Nature is just as big of an asshole as life.

    And no matter how much I try to distance myself, no matter how hard I try to be different from all of the ignorant people in the world, I'm still me. I'll always make the same mistakes. I'll always be immature. So what's the point? It's so unfair.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.