Diary of a Madman

"You have no choice", that's what I kkeep telling myself day after day.  Everyday I wake up wishing I were rich so I wouldn't have to march into a den of snakes every morning to earn money to pay for bills.  There is no joy in my life.  Spending 9 hours everyday in a flourescent hell, dealing with people that I truly despise.  Theres has to be more to life than work.  Where is the adventure, the mystery, the love, laughter?  The life filled with friends, family, the holiday get togethers, the perfect lifes depicted on the TV?  The ultra successful people with the beautiful families, all so well adjusted, content with their seemingly perfect lives.  Established careers, the big house, the beautiful loyal wife, the perfect little children that compliment the parents, and make them proud?  Does this even exist?  Do these people even exist?  And if they do, would I want to be them anyway?  People without substance, drones to their jobs, people that would kill their own to

How long can I keep this up?  How long can I continue doing this?  This life, this annoying life, filled with things I love and hate.  Everything annoys me, everything angers me.I'm numb. my brain hurts.  It's like something crushing my head together, squeezing my brain tighter and tighter until I slowly go mad.  The pain, the anger, the negative connotations going through my brain get worse, the only thing I can think of is killing everybody and everything I see.  I'm high strung, so high strung, I'm wound up like a clock.  I make people uncomfortable, I can sense them getting wound up like a clock, just like me.  The suttle body language a person does:  the neck rools and the closing of the eyes.  Sometimes a neck roll with the eyes closed just until the head rolls up toward the ceiling, than the eys open as if to signify, "I don't like this person, I can't wait for this to be over".  The deep breathes, the eys movements down, peering at the floor. 

There are so many things I want to say, however I also don't know how to say them.  I say a million words in my word everyday, yet I say nothing when it comes down to writing it all down.  I want to kill people at work, I ultimately hate the human race.  Everybody annoys me.  People are evil.  People are fickle, cruel, and weak.  There is no such thing as a perfect world, everybody is vile, everybody is for themselves.  There is no honor or morality in this world, just the illusion of it spewing out of the mouths of the talking heads every night.  Juggling lies, delusions, and propaganda, all while looking us straight in the eyes as if they truly believe their own bullshit.  It's disgusting, it sickens me.   Everyday I drudge on, going to this job I can't stand, surrounded by people I want to see dead, just to repeat it all over again, day after day, until I'm to old to move or think clearly, than I spend the few remaining years of my life in a mediocre existence unti