i fear this world: a discourse

i feel like people will disregard the poems i write because of the innate darkness and crudeness; the saturated cynicism, pessimism, depressionism; the weight of my mental illnesses and subsequent instability that stain such words. it’s as if people would say: “it’s the 21st century, go get yourself some help!” but i’m not looking for help. i’m not looking to self destruct. i’m looking to be heard.

the out lashes and darkness have become part of the mainstream media, and so, a counter culture of self-help gurus and therapists alike have thrived in their ability to dominate a community of people and submit their desires to be eased in hopes of contributing to a more functioning society at large. before this counter culture was created, the dark words and suicidal ideation and existential questionings of poets and writers before me (kafka, poe, camus to name a few) held a greater weight and a larger space in society due to their ability to penetrate and disrupt the mainstream (surely, in relative higher classes than mine) and reach greater masses than the current mundanity we find in the world today. there were extremities in history—there are no extremities now.

i don’t desire the dramatics or attention of such alienating words being shared. i don’t desire help by calling out my worst enemies (which are all me). i fear the world and i fear my life, and my wish is only to vocalize these fears in a world where the masses are rejoicing per social media and the consumption of substances—all altering our perception and experiences on this planet, and amplifying the voices in my head as such simplistic routines are followed by others as social media friends and holistic apps spontaneously combust in the phones unable to convert their master. there is a difference between wearing a collar and being walked on a leash whilst on a collar. i cannot be a follower when my thoughts falter from the way of the world; and the way of the world is endless. i fear this world and i only want others to hear that fear. for them to know: my existence is valid in its polarization. its tortured nature. its inability to desire and accept its own existence…

my uber driver got lost, asking me for directions. i got lost in my thought and didn’t hear his questions.