The Forgotten

The Forgotten

written by Matty Shreds

The Forgotten

We’re here again.. Back to the beginning. The part that hurts me the most is I always knew it didn’t feel right. There’s a war within me that will likely never fade. I ignored so many obvious tell-signs that this was destined for failure. How human of us to believe we’re capable of tampering with fate.. A minuscule amount of optimism remains within me, furthering the reality that even nihilistic free-roamers have a better grip on life than my pathetic recurring debacles. As darkness takes over, the concept of nothingness has a far more welcoming ring to it than false optimism & fairytale love ever could. A world lead by ruin & anguish — how is there even room for hope when life is designed to suffocate every last one of us?

— A world filled with possessed monsters, pretending their extremism/comical outrage is actually viewed as progress.

In my eyes, one can only obtain any form of permanence in regards to love by sacrificing all traces of logic, or turn a blind-eye to the reality that most things people say is layered with complete bullshit, fabrication, or naive manipulation.. The sad part is, in my opinion these depths are so heavily engrained into people, a lot of this is entirely on a subconscious level.. The blind leading the blind. Consequentially when you try to align yourself with people as such, you will waste years of your life trying to argue a reality that they couldn’t possibly grasp or even begin to rationalize. There’s a great deal of intrigue within me in regards to the movements of people devoting their life to being alone. Social media does a fantastic job of humiliating this or deeming it as some level of failure, yet in my opinion there is far more honour in those who don’t get sick of their own company after 12 minutes like most people. How exhausting / shitty of a person does one have to be if they can’t even embrace existing within their own peace & freedom? Until you manage that, I can’t even begin to grasp how it’d be possible to share your life or even be worthy enough of devoting your life to someone else. It will just be a recurring pattern of hurt people hurting people — at the very least that’s my experience with it. It’s typical for people to rebuttal this with “these people just can’t keep a partner & are alone by default” — surely I can deviate from that narrative, as I’ve exclusively chosen to part ways from love on my own.. I just can’t seem to find faith or trust within such an extreme investment. I don’t believe humans can be trusted with such intense levels of emotional liability. To have that much control over another person is inevitably going to be weaponized at one point.

There are many people who would read my words & feel nothing but disgust, outrage, these days even fucking borderline psychosis.. yet the joy of life is we all get to pave our own paths, write about our views, ideologies, beliefs, etc.. Isn’t that the art of life? What greater purpose is there than diving deep enough within to establish a level of true understanding? Whether that contains a liner of contagious optimism or people similar to me that find comfort in debunking a lot of the  fantasy based forms that consume/manipulate people. That is the uniqueness of mankind — two people can read the exact same thing & trigger completely opposite emotional responses. That is why art is so fucking beautiful to me.

The one thing I can’t grasp is the delusional infatuation people have over celebrities/public figures. People will throw away “true love” if it means they’d have a weekend away with some famous person that has a social media presence or a herd of people chasing them. Humans are so dense in this regard.. How embarrassing is it that people apply more emotional value to a person who is craved by the masses over something real / concrete? It’s things like this that forever deem real love as an impossibility to me, due to the fact almost every connection could be destroyed by “the next best thing” or some price tag if the opportunity arose. The further I dive into it, the more I embrace my comfort/desire of being alone. It’s far less lonely than loving the wrong person — I learned that the hard way.

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