Tuesday, December 26, 2023

Christmas

 It's currently 12:29AM. In the time of jolly merriment, I find myself sitting here in a cold night. There's no time like Christmas to enlighten me of my true detachment. As much as my family warms to my small mannerisms, I unlike they, do not feel much of anything when they express themselves. At times I feel like I am some sort of monster, a type of psychopath, with little emotion. Then I remember tearing up at the hint of death from imaginary animals in movies. No, this detachment isn't something to fill with moments with other beings, it's something intrinsic to my soul. I remember looking around the local store, couples hugging, family yelling at each other in a form of endearment. How annoying I thought, how they plaster themselves in happiness to express to the world for them to be jealous of. I linger in disgust, how crass they are! I should look within myself though, for they have what I do not, and I do envy that to a degree, but I shall try to despise them not for how they love. For we all crave love, even from animals. 

Tricks

 It is currently 12:20AM. There's a few tricks to a good home life. A good homelife consists of strangers gawking in admiration of your dedication in a family role. The loyal son, the thoughtful daughter, the strong husband, the loving wife. A good homelife comes with one casualty, true and honest genuineness. For every path they show you, your family will always decide what is correct for you. If you heed their requests the pestering and disappointment that comes with rejection, will cease.. for a time. Because for every time you will yourself to submit, a little piece of your very essence is stripped and rotted away. There will be a point in the future where you will stare back at the figure in the mirror and question, who the fuck is that? Wasted, months turn to years, and years turn to decades. Wasted time that could have been used to make something of your life, of your dreams, of your hopes, singing songs that would ring through your soul. A trick to a good home life? Complacency.

Thursday, November 30, 2023

Mental

 Currently 12:54am. I'll be honest I don't really have anything to say. I was told that just writing anything down makes you better at writing. So here I am, still with nothing on my mind, no hopes or dreams to write about, just babbling into the abyss. I think the scariest part of writing is looking at the blank screen or paper. The possibilities are endless, only brought down by our own imagination, our finesse in writing words. Words that can stick out like sore thumbs in people's brains, or they could be another written nothing sent to the garbage by a bored reader. Something that could be brought out, a singular moment of genius brought out by our words that we could fathom typing, or writing out in small letters. I hope to one day inspire, or make others dream with my writing, I want them to dream I want them to think, to hope. Yet as I sit here, my words speak to no one, to nobody, but myself. Not until I can do it proficiently, not until I grow nauseous with my words, not until I breathe a sigh of relief with my writing can I sleep. But for now I'm an insomniac. 

Monday, November 27, 2023

Altitude

 It is currently 4:58AM. It pains me at times to say these things, like I don't want to believe them. Most of the times that I write, I put my entirety of my being in my words, and I know that these sayings and musing will go over people's heads. They will go on to another bite of their sandwich, they will continue on to their lives of mediocrity, but I hope that one day they will resonate meaning within a singular person who thinks back, to my sayings, and thinks.. that guy had an interesting idea. I just finished watching a movie called love and other drugs. 

It's strange to feel such warmth with such movies, I am an undying romantic. I love seeing love in it's most pg rated form. Even though this movie was filled with sex and nudity it didn't detract from the subtlety of romantic gestures that is what accompanies love. I always find it incredible that I am able to feel anything at all with movies, as I know they are pure fiction and imagination, a complete concoction of puppetry trying to mimic humanity in fantasy. To this I find such beauty and treasure, for one such as I cannot truly fathom pleasantries from benign designs. I am sad though, for I know forever I am entombed in a prison of my own making, of my own being, to be eternally alone. There is comfort in solitude though, as much as I wail in agony, there is no purest form of freedom that comes with solitude, no inward completeness that can ever be achieved with having another human being so close. To many, that feeling isn't enough for them it's not enough for them to fill their cavern of emptiness, so they cling to others like parasites, and burden their lives again and again. Not I! I scream. NOT I! As I shiver in my prison of chains. Not I.



Thursday, November 2, 2023

The beauty of Idaho

 Currently 1:56am. There's a giant interest in Idaho's Nature. The long mountain trails, the forestry, the rivers and lakes that have been loved by many. It's a shared notion that Idaho is one of the nation's finest locations for nature. I always seemed to have a disdain for the outdoors, too much mud, too much dirt, too much danger. Now and then, when I leave my humble four walled paradise, I do see the beauty of it, as many have so vehemently proclaimed so incessantly so. The times I see the sun kiss the lakes and rivers is quite overwhelming. Other times, I cannot even perceive this beauty, all I see is more of the same, dead plants, a river that's dried up, and a dissatisfied moment in time. For I lust for a time when a forest breathed life like a beating heart, a path only carved by the roots that gave life into the trees, a river who roared, not whispered, dirt that soaked in seeds of life. What do you see? 


Sadness

 Currently 1:42am. These were taken at the fair I went to, a few months ago. There's something to be said about true sadness. It's almost dampening ocean, as if one cannot grasp something to take in air. It's subtly at times takes you by surprise as it opens a way for your sadness to gush out wails of anguish. True sadness is heavy, like a weight that is unmoving, unbearably heavy, it crushes your ribs as it sits upon your lungs. When I took these this goat, kept itself alive only barely, people say that the eyes are the windows to the soul.

 If so, then the soul of this animal has been burdened by true sadness for an eternity. It lied there, hoping for some food or attention from something, reaching out it's face for the hope of pleasing monstrous children. Hope had left this animal since birth it seemed like. So my heart ached, for a moment at least, so much my eyes had begun to clutch salty water. I stepped back, away from it, and regained composure. Back to my life of pleasure, and selfishness, eating meat and thinking nothing of others. Back to reality, back to the time of relaxation and thinking only of what I would consume next. So I consumed away consumed like the demon I was. I am. 





Thunder

 It's 1:37am. I don't really know much about anything really. This was taken when I was returning home from the fair. I find myself pretty lost at the moment. Nothing really takes my interest, nothing I do can make me feel better. I keep at this thinking I will make a dent in my life but it's just setback after setback. Most of the things I do are the same, maybe I need to change my approach. Not a simple switch, I think it's more of a gradual shift in my experiences over a long period of time. I keep sitting here, doing nothing, and hoping things change. I just need to do something anything to change my life. I'll figure it out I'll figure it out.