Becoming the Bull

What a fucking pun of a title.

So after all these years, I've become the one thing that I promised myself I'd never want to come close to being, I've become the "chauvinistic brute that the asshole seems to be", the megalomaniac in over his head, the fellow that finds comfort in believing what he's done is a result of his short-sightedness, be it visual or otherwise. I've become the idiot... No, I've always been the idiot but never so idiotic as to inflict my idiocy in the form of a whiplash to the heart...
I've become the bull.
It's painful to see myself this way. I used to scoff at that bastard. Used to tell her he wasn't worth her love. He was just using her.
Then reveries set in. No, not reveries, but cold hard truth mixed with the wrong choice of words. It reminded me of him. Made me see what I've become. Made me cry wishing I had a good enough reason to justify and redeem myself. I didn't. And if insomnia is God's way of punishing me, so be it.
What did I know? What did I expect? I was so fucking scared and that's not normal. Everyone's been through it before, some more than the others. They would know exactly what to do. It was the first in my life. And the first is always scary. People think you're some legend but you know you're not. And you get deceived by what your friends say. Oh what do they know about me?
The thing is even I don't know about myself. I don't know what I'm capable of. I don't know what I would ever amount to. I still don't know...
I knew I wanted different things from everyone else. Not that same shit that everyone craved for. But how do you speak that out without driving your ego to suicide? It was impossible the way it was going. It wasn't going the right way. It could have, but it wasn't. And I realised that only after I headed into downfall.

I can't bring myself to think of an answer. Thoughts have been lurking my mind over what seems to have felt like an eternity and they've been basking in their benign state, waiting for an opportunity to pounce, waiting for that golden moment to ambush me and hit me so hard on the head so as to fall... fall from it all.

The bottomless pit of regret that I currently dwell in is an ugly, ugly place. There are pictures hung up all around me, pictures of better days. Days far before I started smoking. There's a small tv that shows me what's happening outside. Outside in the real world. Outside where the sun shines too bright that it blinds you from the truth. I walk around in delusion. Forced delusion. Pretending like it's all okay when it's not. Assuming she's okay when she's probably not. And walking away from it all because I'm too weak to deal with it. Too ashamed to show my face.

They've all forgotten, but we haven't. I won't. It's not humanly possible. And I doubt things will ever, ever be the same. I'm sorry more than you will ever know. I'm sorry not for what's happened but for what should have in stead. And since the latter is directly related to the former, I'm sorry for it all. Whether I should or shouldn't be. Whether this was the right or wrong thing. I apologise. In the name of my weakness, my inability to think straight when faced with untrodden ground and most of all, for hurting you, I'm sorry.

This, mixed with emotions brought up to light after reading The Kite Runner have rendered me one hell of a depressed fuck. And to find solace there's only one person that could make me feel better. Wonder what's on her mind right now...

Live with it. Accept the fact and walk away just like you always have. Not being able to stand up for yourself. Weak.