No One Wants To Know

No one likes to realise that they are nothing but a loser. I think we can all agree on that! We can definitely all agree on that. No one likes it, no one likes it. I find myself fighting against the realisation – trying to say that it isn’t true, trying to say that I’m not a loser. Trying to find some kind of justification for my situation. Another part of me looks on coldly at my ridiculous futile struggle. ‘Suck it up,’ sneers the other part of me, ‘quit spending your useless pathetic life complaining and just suck it up for once.’

 

I guess I’m kind of conflicted around this issue – part of me really does believe that it isn’t my fault, whilst the other part of me – the judgemental part, the critical part – says that it is entirely my fault. My fault from beginning to end. My sole responsibility. The whole thing is my fault, the whole damn thing, and all I can ever do whine and whinge and blame somebody else. Pathetic, isn’t it? It’s worse than pathetic really – one hell of a lot worse. It’s reprehensible to an extraordinary degree. It’s the unholy mockery of all that is right and proper in the world; it’s the devil’s mockery.

 

‘So what’s it feel like to be a loser?’ You ask. You really want to know. You want to know in detail, you want to get the full picture of exactly what it feels like. You have a voyeuristic fascination.

 

What’s it like to be a loser? What’s it like to be a loser? What’s it like to be a loser? I feel like screaming. The pressure is too much for me – the pressure of being a loser but not wanting to be! I want to hurt someone, it occurs to me. I want to take it out on someone. I want to find some bastard and then hurt them real bad. ‘Take that you fucker,’ I’ll say to them. ‘See how you like that!’

 

That’s what people say, is isn’t it? See how you like that, see how you like that. See how you like that you dirty little shit because I suspect you’re not going to like it at all! I suspect that you not going to like it even one tiny little bit! No sir you won’t, no sir you won’t. You won’t like it but you’re just going to have to suck it up. I’ll be there right in your face, crowing over you, telling you to suck it up. Pissing on you from a great height. You little shit you.

 

‘So what’s it like to be a loser,’ you ask, ‘you haven’t told me yet. You just came out with a whole load of dumb bullshit…’ The truth is that I don’t really know. I’m too afraid to find out! I won’t go near it with a barge pole! I won’t touch it. You think I want to know what being a loser feels like? You think I really have any interest in that? I’m not going anywhere near that thing. You can just fuck off if you want me to go near it.

 

All around me happy smiling consumers are buying the product. They can’t stop smiling because they are so happy, and they’re so happy because the product is so great! I am sickened to the core as I watch, I truly am. I am repulsed, I am nauseated. It’s an appalling travesty, it’s a hideous nightmare. It’s a mockery, that’s what it is. It’s the travesty of all travesties…

 

 

 

 

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