Halloween hunger

It's 4:04am. Today is Halloween. It's a nice time, the trees begin to shed, the wind outside begins to blow cold, there's pumpkins and warm lattes that begin to emerge as if slumbering from an eternal winter. Now, it's also time to wear someone's skin, to become someone else for a night. To be completely different. To flail around as someone else, to embrace the warmness of someone's flesh and bone. It's a mask you see, from all around us we can be infinitely different, from who we are, and I think it's quite a nice tactic for people to finally be something they've always wanted to be, whether it be someone beautiful, or something sinister. Maybe that is the reason we so much enjoy this holiday, because for a night we can become something different, than who we are. This time, Halloween, it always puts me in a mood. To see movies, but it gives me something of a thirst for gore, the gore you see in movies. It's unquenchable, this thirst but nonetheless I always get it in Halloween, I will try to delve into the predictable cliches of modern cinema, but it's always there and it's never enough. Someday maybe, maybe one Halloween...

Distancing

It's 5:05am. Today I could not get this thought out of my mind. The thought that things happen around me, and I do no feel them, thus I end up with an empty hole in my being. I see things, and experience them, but I have a lack of anything, and things just happen. I kept repeating the line from the show "End of the fucking world". I relate to the male protagonist, a lot. He said this line, "sometimes I just let things happen". It's that disassociation from reality, that cold ebb from the real, the eye that sees from a distance. I feel literally, physically, as if the eye is me. The eye who's cold gaze lingers on the world of material. So sometimes, I just let things fall down, I let them break, and allow the cold waves of the ocean bury me until the water fills my lungs. I think part of me, would like to see the chaos it brings, maybe because I want to feel a moment of control, as if I could manage the chaos of this meaningless existence. I cannot get this feeling out of my head, the distance, the feeling of being gone. It's oddly alluring, and comforting, but I know that it brings malice, and will be my downfall if I choose to embrace it. I do not know, but maybe one day I will choose to accept it, and let the waves fall upon me for the last time, to swallow my sanity.

Secretly, maybe, crazy

It's 1:04am. I awoke today, believing I was insane. I thought I was institutionalized. What's strange is, I felt comfortable there. It was white, filled to the brim with obvious cliches from the movies and shows that we always see. I was saddened deeply, to awake. I felt more at home there, than I did when I was alive. Then again, I felt like the doors that are chained up in my brain were broken, finally open. No longer, I had this thing inside me that made me so strange, like I was finally able to breathe again. Like I was normal, and then began to think that is how normal people feel every single day. I hope that one day, I feel complete like that, it's painful to know I will never have that emotion again, because I know that things in this world aren't enough. Maybe it is my inner cynic, to know such pain and embrace the sadness for the rest of my life.

To love

It's 5:26am. To love is to be willing to die with a broken heart. Loving someone is a mistake, you know the right person may be in your eyesight. Yet your eyes deceive you, love can be a plague. A plague, that gnaws on your flesh from the inside. Soon enough, your muscles begin to spasm, your motions begin to slow, and you begin to feel less. It's blinding, isn't it? The love that blinds you to reality. The holes in your life, that seem to be filled with unimaginable heart, and soul. Fuck love, it should not be for us, it is for the others, the mounds of flesh that permeate our society. Fuck love because what it does for them, will never be done for us. Love isn't for people like you and me, we are the outliers, the ones who observe the cancer, and long for the outcry of help. Fuck love.

Fantasy

It's 4:33am. Today, I find myself lost. Lost to be in a world of much more vibrancy, and thrill. I fear that one day, I may meld too much into this world, and with it will no longer have ties into reality. I feel it, my mind deteriorating with every passing day. Each day, more and more I have less and less life. Life that used to pour from my goddamn soul, because it was in excess. I used to never fantasize about things, because I believed that reality was much more fun. To have that thrill, extinguished with the horror that is so prevalent in society. At times, I fantasize about vivid gore. The meat on my bones being flayed alive, cut up and torn apart. My brain, and skull being smashed, blood gushing out of the hole in my face. Maybe, I think, that it is my true self I see so often. This vivid imagination of violence, it might be the real me. The real me that hides itself so much from society. It's quite frightening, to think that such a violent person may harbor within my being. Maybe I'll be different, when I grow older, but I hope that I am not evil, or cruel, because I don't want to be that.. ever.

The aliens and the robots

It's currently 6am. I am drunk, but feel as if it's the right time to write. Sometimes, I believe myself to be an alien, in a world of robots. Inherently different. The organs that writhe, and move within my system, they scare me. Compared to the cogs in the machines that run wild among this world. I want to feel. I am not afraid of saying so, of saying that I want to experience emotions, so powerful they shake my very bones, the emotions that fuel the fire in my brain. Every time I look into the eyes of another person, I see nothing. The cold grey lifeless ebb that flows within their iris. As if I cannot ever feel the way they do, something inside my soul could never touch their emotions, or realness that they, themselves, experience. That, my friends, is what scares me the most. I like to bare my emotions in my writings, but sometimes writing is not enough to encapsulate the immense pressure one has in their core. So live like nothing matters, because time is a limited sentence for us. Nothing ever matters, anymore.