The nice guy steps out the door of the apartment and
start the long winding descent to street level. Staircase covered in darkness
as he needs no light to find his way down and out. The nice guy knows his
limits and just wish to breath the cold raw air that awaits him outside. This
is the beginning of a long day for The nice guy and with a certain disdain
still burning in his back he starts the long walk away from the mundane
building. Always on foot, always without an aim, mostly in the dark.
Once outside in the open things starts falling into
place with a more precise clear picture, time is at hand and memories can be
sorted and picked apart to be examined into the smallest of obscure parts. What
was said, when and how was it said and why. How was the look on her face when
she heard his dull words and fumbling replies, in what order did things play
out? What had not been said and why? Of course he wasn’t able to say things the
way he wanted it to sound like and in the end he lost himself in the labyrinth
of doubt and shameful self-hate. A true underdog is what he had become. Still
The nice guy, he reminded himself behind clenched teeth while his pace caught a
steady rhythm and his inhale/exhale picked up. It had not always been like
that, you see, The nice guy was once liked for his various qualities and he
used to in all honesty believe that he had that little extra spice to bring to
the soup of intervention. That he was The nice guy for a pretty good reason and
people around him could spot this without a second look. It could turn out to
be a rather tasty broth if you weren’t too picky and well traveled on the axis
of consciousness. As the years went by things stared to slide and reposition
themselves and here he now walked. Out of a door from a blackened staircase
into another blind curve. Onward but not forward.
What is it with us, The nice guys out there? Eh? You
lame faggots with crooked soft spines and weak chins. Both balls tucked away in
a safe place and only let hanging free and proud while in your own glorious
solitude, behind locked doors. How can we confuse nice with good and not weak?
Sitting there in our own shit feeling sorry for yourselves, pondering over how
you became the luckless victim, “as you sow so you shall reap” ought to be the
mantra of the day, the mantra of days spent and on days to come. How can we
take it so lightly being run over and used as cheaply made tools when the fire
within burns so bright and clear? What enables us to year after year allowing
ourselves to in an almost hedonistically stoic and sadistic way fooling the
very being that is you, the only one you have when the going gets tough (yet the
tough won’t!)? I’m talking about you, yeah you!
In a hopeless positively charged loop you live your
life, being The nice guy at all costs. There is no way out from this locked
loop is what you have convinced yourself, though you have not looked further
into the finer details, for the loops minute yet real flaws. You have with
blind faith trusted that the loop is your f(r)iend and have since never
questioned it’s true purpose. And there you go, chasing your own tail while you
are being taken for granted by peers and minions alike. But this loop isn’t
foolproof and when that news reaches through you may not be able to hold on to
that hat anymore, a shitstorm of epic proportions is going to level the little
man and lift up that other self to immeasurable heights. Winged
Alter Ego. Who to
blame for this bittersweet demise you may ask yourself when finally standing
still deep within the misty woods or on that wind chilled beach or hilltop you
so frequently end up in/at/on? You know the answer to that so don’t ask.
Stable antimatter does not
appear to exist in our universe
Watch him go. Down the sidewalk towards the point of
no interest. The nice guy walks in a steady pace without stopping, without
deviation. Steady and aimed like a sniper rifle he knows his target and the
exact consequences of the impact. True and precise, to the point, trimmed of
all excess bullshit. Hollow pointed and deadly. Just like his being ought to be
in all his real life actions.
His movements dedicated, like synced to a Meshuggah
tune, fast and furious, like a machine, able to go on forever. That is what you
would see if you by any chance happened to get a glimpse of this invisible man
moving down the pavement, like a shadow.
Soundless ghoul, phantom of the mundane everyday. The nice guy is aware
of his non-existence and have since long stopped the struggle, the real fight
against his own nature to be seen. The will to be able to scream and slap,
cause havoc while bullying the culprit into submission was never there. The
ability to look sarcasm in the face and stand up on strong legs while
delivering relentlessly steadfast skulls on broken cartilage with a smile never
came naturally. To gain respect by being an Alpha male, choke them out while he
rape and maim in the name of pleasure was never his cup of tea. Cheat and trick
to gain access to the inner circle of the elitist nest of doers and takers so
far away. His inability to back scratch and in that way have his own equally
scratched, to bend over and get hiss ass fucked or kiss another was never noted
down on his list of achievements. Watching on without retaliation while his feather
light ego gets disrespected, watching and swallowing his hollow pride as the
carpet in a quick and steadfast motion gets pulled out underneath. You weak
bottom feeding faggot, yeah, YOU!
Hence The nice guy. You know he is there but you do
not see him as he turns the corner and disappears, fades out of the periphery.
In the black bag strapped secure to his back he carries a whole arrangement of
items. Stuff that will come handy and somehow will be needed to ease the
transition from man to shadow to phantom. Items to better himself. False hope
on the horizon, nevertheless a quest and what has one to loose?
NG = NG
Ω
