That's it. No joy, no fun...
freedom.
I can reiterate 100 reasons why society on a global scale is set up to fail. Why the way we live is inherently toxic, and how we are headed toward doom in every facet of our human lives. But what's the point? I sit through its lectures three times a week. It's not about community development...
it's about fear. And I don't walk out of the class inspired, I walk out paranoid and dejected. Further isolated from this society that I look around me with disdain.
So I go home and masturbate furiously... trying to reach a silver lining in this sad reality.
I have experienced transcendental heights with my sexuality. I have seen love vibrate off my skin and wondered how its symphony would sound like recorded.
But all this is has become a distant dream, I have ingested poison and from where, I don't know where.
I inhale sharply and laugh to myself on all fours and I scrub the restaurant floors weakly.
I forget during these times why I'm even living. I get so caught up in the present, that I forget what could possibly be beautiful about being paid $11 an hour to do manual labor that if I worked for a manual labor company would pay me $20-25 an hour instead.
Why the fuck am I subjecting myself to this kind of slavery?
For a free salad and $55 per day total?
I come home and have no appetite for food. All I had that day was lunch and half a muffin.
I hear my stomach churn painfully and realize just then I forgot my salad at the restaurant I quit fifteen minutes before arriving home.
Fuck.
But I don't even care enough to be mad. Their lack of hygiene was positively grotesque... and I cannot believe they haven't been shut down yet.
That's what you get when you hire only two employees to clean up the entire front and back of the restaurant. For 11 dollars an hour.
Are you fucking kidding me? You cannot possibly even clean it all properly. Bacteria festers... I saw a cockroach make a nest behind the soup pot. Disgusting.
After two and a half hours of cleaning up, I'm free to go home.
Free.
As I walk down the dark alley with chains around my ankles.
I wish then to be bent over and fucked. I wish then for some random man to press me down on the filthy street and take me until I pass out from hunger and exhaustion.
But nothing happens. I wander in through the front door stunned.
My roommates try to cheer me up and tell me I have so much to offer. I know this, but I have forgotten...
I feel used and taken advantage of. I feel bitter and angry at the world. It doesn't have anything to do with scrubbing or cleaning. I actually enjoy cleaning.
It's the principle. The damn principle in my head that I cannot let go of no matter how hard I try. What difference is it, it's all exploitation. What difference does it make when we sell our bodies how? Through labor or stocks or sexuality... that we sell our time like that and walk away with less than we can to survive with?
I used to judge prostitutes until I discovered I am one myself.
We all are.
It's all the fucking same when you bend over and allow someone or some company to fuck you for bread crumbs.
The concept of money has sullied the minds of men.
Or perhaps it's us. Perhaps our inherently perverse nature is meant to exploit... the scavenger within us, the hunter. Don't blame.
It's not about survival, the way we do what we do. It's about wanting freedom.
We equate more money to freedom, in reality both sides remain in bondage.
But I cannot find the pleasure in this no matter how hard I try.
I feel my soul wither away in despair, that this is not the oasis that lives and thrives within my heart.
My sexuality is robust with love and fervor... not something to be used for manically to serve as an escape.
I spent all morning in my bed, and each time I came I felt myself starve, not fed.
It makes me untouchable to hands that caress my skin with love. It hallows me out to where I feel nothing.
The Universe is abundant, they say.
Then there must be something wrong with me, that I live within this emotional poverty that I can't seem to help myself survive on my talents and gifts.
They just seem to get exploited again and again. And I really try not to be a victim, but honestly this has me confused. I give of myself whole-hardheartedly and go on unappreciated and taken advantage of.
What am I doing wrong?