The Confusion That Burns

The questions that plague me are never “why” or “what if,” it’s always “what the fuck is the god damn point?!” And no, I don’t use my expletives to show my contempt for the vulgarity of my generation, nor to express my rage against the corporate machine and it’s senseless restrictions against the people’s freedom of speech (though that is still present in bulk), I use it only because no eloquent words can convey the frustration and agony burning through my veins, liquefying me from the inside out. I can’t recall the exact moment I transposed from innocent child, full of faith in a government and god, to this cynical, sneering, and barely sentient young woman. My frustration sublimes to apathy, as I wonder if any of this will ever matter in the long run. Yes, everyone had prodigious plans for me since childhood. Eager to learn and naturally inquisitive, I seemed a promising pupil, but fate always seems to prefer the villainous role. The realization that no one lives forever and that someday, I truly will cease to exist turned me into a world-weary, bitter soul before I reached puberty. So now, I am here, teetering on the brink of madness and genius (though I’m beginning to believe they’re indistinguishable) and I never want to move and I never want to grow up. “Another delay, too many hassles. Where do we go, how do we follow?”