Wednesday, October 21, 2009

worth

I am disgusting. I am a creature of bad habit. I have nothing to live for, and I have entwined my life with nothing important enough to die for. I slip and fall without noticing because I'm so used to it. I treat no one with respect, and yet expect it from everyone else. I have never done anything right. I am not doing anything right. I will never do anything right. My life is waste. I am trash, garbage, and sewage. I will never be positive about it. I will never think anything I do is worth more than the time I wasted and the people I distracted.

This is my life. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Without my life, I am worthless. Without me, my life is nonexistent.

there is nothing worth doing anything for. Science AND religion are wrong.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

So I've been following this blog of yours for a month or so now, which is to say that I happened across it in the same trite way that seemingly every other bastard on the internet has: while Googling 'Holden Caulfield' pictures. Three cheers for originality, eh?

Anywho, for a former English Literature major I'm a lazy sham of a researcher, but I have managed to read over some of your more recent posts and their accompanying comments. In so doing, I've found that, once again, I'm like so many others: drawn to your blog in a strange, mystic sort of way. That's probably just a lofty way of saying that I like reading what you write. It's articulate, honest, and--most importantly--true. True in the sense that what you say seems to have the weight and the feeling of humanity resting on its shoulders. If nothing else, you're a very human writer. If it feels like I'm flattering you, well...I am. But before you write my compliments off, consider the fact that I too am some anonymous statistic of an asshole who knows you only through a few brief words. Which is to say, you'd be hard pressed to find less personal bias for or against someone than that. Simply put: it's an honest compliment, so take it.

It may seem like I'm rambling, but I did start this comment with a intended point to make. This most recent post of yours, on the topic of self-worth (namely yours), struck me as so similar to a very recent LiveJournal post I'd made about myself (here's a link: http://mathewjconlin.livejournal.com/1006.html). And, after reading yours with my own in mind, I couldn't help but slouch with the melancholy weight of how horribly saddening that is to think about. That we, two apparently capable human beings, literate if nothing else, have such low regard for ourselves. I likewise can't help but think that there's got to be something more to this life than that. It can't simply be our fate to live out our days stooping in our own self-critical stew. Simply put: even the Holden Caulfield's of the world deserve some happiness.

Anonymous said...

Have a nice and Happy Year, Holden.
I like your posts and sometimes I wonder if it is or it's not something I heard or I felt...
All of us have something of "old" Holden Caufield, isn'it? And it's a honour...
o falcão