A black sheep

It's 4:02am. I keep wondering, in a way I would say I'm never satisfied. Satisfied that the world is a chaotic mound, a lawless town, full of monstrous humans. It's these times that I try and figure out where I fit in. People with sensibilities and empathetic emotions, seem so little compared to ourselves. As if, I could hold more than others, but in a strange and peculiar way, I feel as if all the others around me, do not have the capacity to feel so profoundly. It's as if they are not there, completely. Every time I notice people, they look so lonely, they squabble around constantly stretching their arms in search of some sort of feeling, to fill their holes that puncture their souls. I want to see them for what they really are, and if they are not who I think they are, then those are the beings I wish to study. To study such marvelous differences in humanity. I think maybe, we all struggle with the hole that is ingrained in our souls, although, I think some of us struggle less because we have knowledge of it. The knowledge that no amount of words, or touch of flesh, or any emotion that could be conjured up by our ridiculous brain could ever fill this empty void. I think that is why so many of us struggle with the concept of survival, of living, of existing. To some of us, this void, is eternally, completely, unavoidably, a part of our human condition. It's weight is so heavy, as if we were holding the human race on our shoulders. It does not deserve us, our human race, we are too special for it, so we lose ourselves in our minds and drink ourselves to death, because it's not what we can do for humanity, but what they DESERVE to get from us. Nothing

Numbness to end numbness

It's 4:12am. I am writing this in a daze. I feel emotionless now, cold, numb. Numb to the emotional troubles of life. These are usually the times I tend to delve into gore, and try to assemble some shock to overcome this emotionless feeling. I have discovered alcohol, and with it, a new different feeling. The obnoxious feeling of rambunctiousness. I am invincible, I am relaxed and uncaring. Apathetic, and yet I am still numb. Maybe with another dose, another sip, another chug, I can succumb to this feeling of retardation. Something, to numb the numbness, or something to make me care about anything. Every night, I hope to find a sort of person that is similar to me, but so far, I have found one. One and the one that I so hoped was like me, ended up dead. Maybe it is my fate as well, to die. As it is to everyone else, to die. Unlike others, I think for us it might be to choose death, unlike the horde who like to please themselves, in some unorthodox ways. Eternally holding out their hands like beggars in the streets. Not I, I whisper not I. Nay, we choose the end, our own way. We are not cowards, we are in fact, martyrs of a new age of self realization.   

Figures

It's 2:56am. There's no real ideal for me, everything and everyone is very bland. I remember thinking, one day I may change, but I don't think it is possible. My personal euphoric emotion is not enough for me. It's like the hunger for something that is unattainable. It's like an unquenchable thirst, a longing for touch. Sometimes one may seem so enamored by others in society, it's every single product, like pigs waiting for their slob. To me, I find no discernible difference in the things that are made, it's the smallest little things that are interesting. It's watching a small bug, fly around looking for food, or the cracks that have been formed in the sidewalk. Rigged are we, such monsters and abominations of society, grasping at straws that hold small drops of hope. Oh but we must be set right, like a fucking picture on a wall, slightly off. It's not the picture that's wrong, maybe it's our society's eyes. The eyes that see no person, but figures, faceless and droll walking around this empty home, built of sticks and mud.

A cold day

It's 3:39 am. It was a cold day, a few days ago. As I stepped out into the world beyond my sheltered home, I could smell the September winds. When I was told he was no longer with us, I felt horror. Not the horror you see in the movies, no that one is too mild. It's like a horror you see in the violence, and gore. That horror which I feel is integral in our lives, to feel. I felt horror the entire day, because I knew what had happened. I began to piece together his last moments, the reason he was so inclined to leave us. Unfortunately, it's not something you really want to think about, when you think of someone you care about. It's like seeing an adorable puppy be smashed under a car, or a child being disemboweled on razor wire. Thinking about all the times he made us smile, thinking about how many lives he touched, only for his spirit to go out in a matter of hours. I am sad, but not a pleasurable sadness that I can cope with. His is one life, I wish I could have changed, for the better. Now, I am left with nothing but memories of a boy too tortured from his past, who was unable to bear the weight of his demons. I see all his friends, everyone forgets who he was, what he wanted. I wish I could've done more, I say, but I know that even if I had, the pain would be too great. Just to see a man, who's life meant so much to be lost so quickly, it's really painful. Pain that I hope will stay with me forever, until I breathe my last breath, until my eyes can see no longer, pain that I hope will always remind me that he was there, that he was someone, and never to be forgotten. Thank you Josh.

Violence

It's 5:10am. Ever since my sister told me "your mind always goes to gore". I have been thinking about it. It's a strange way that my mind procures such images. It's like I cannot figure out why I am alive. Every day I see animals that lie dead in the streets, without a care in the world, cars pass by. As if these things are simply small meaningless objects. I reject such a notion, I see the guts and blood that has been spilled by someone that didn't care enough to look both ways or stop. I see the evil in their eyes, I see the life that was taken by such a being. I think, I see children being mauled and see people being torn apart by cars. I want to see such things. It is not because I have some sick and depraved sexual fantasy about it. It is because gore, is truly horrific. The horror I experience is sickening, vile, grotesque, vivid, and real. For all of the years of my life, I feel as if I am being sheltered by society. A society that is uncomfortable with the horrors of reality, the evil and damned that is truly our human race. Such forces, that like to shelter us with dopamine dumps, and  advertised lies. It wants us to be blissful and happy. To our surprise, we aren't really happy until we see the dark side of the moon. The dark side that is filled with sadness, and the stench of rotting corpse I know people might want to say that I am demented, a true fucked up human being. I don't agree, we as children of earth should know the evil that hides, it's traumatic, and truly sad. If we do not know such feelings, then what are we but pigs on  a farm, eating garbage. If we open our eyes, we will be greeted by gore, but it is necessary, to live truly, and completely. So embrace evil, and the sadness that accompanies it.

Comfortable

It's 4:36am. Finding out one's sexuality is kind of scary. Realizing what you are, it points you in a direction. This direction may be one you aren't completely comfortable exploring. When I found out what it was I was fulfilled. The fear didn't set in until a few minutes. I had to grasp that one day I would not be able to find out what true love is. Unlike other asexuals, who do want  a romantic relationship, I always veered away from it. I knew, that no matter how much I may find interest in it, I would never really enjoy my life completely if I found romance. I knew that it would hinder my life. I look around to see these people, so happy and joyous in their positions, so I strive for the same. They all have something I don't, and for that I feel jealous, and sad. Sad that I cannot be like they are. I found comfort today, another. A living breathing person who is indeed real. It's almost as if I can see colors. There is comfort in knowing another has the same personality. While it is strange, it is comfortable, simply, holey, comfortable.