Creativity

 It's currently 5:03am. Tonight I want to talk about the incessant tingle that is within most of us. That small little voice that always seems to be wanting to yell. The small little itch that can never be really scratched. I want to talk about creativity. While many would be so ever open about their voice, opening it to the uncaring world with naivete, I choose to limit it, as the mind can conjure such precious beauties such as colorful trees, or shimmering lights, it too can conjure horrors in which imagination can barely comprehend. To one such as I, as many others, it would lead to devastating effects of the mind. To simply air things like, "oh but what if" evoking these other normal people to look upon you with such a lighter sentence, only to be faced with a disgusted look. My oh my, what comes to us is a deserved shunning. Yes we can cry out to be an antithesis of how they feel, till death rips the rug from under us! Oh but to be brought upon these 'others' and thrown into the pits of depravity! What delusional things these 'others' are. "How disgusting "they cry!  So maybe it's time to let us throw ourselves into this depravity! To show the world our heart! Fuck the masses of socially conscious mounds of flesh! Fuck whoever thinks they can shove their ideals down our throats! Light a fire from our passionate hatred! Shun me no longer, for I am my own GOD.

Complacent

 Currently 3:44am. Yet again, these feelings of solitude pierce my skin. I remember thinking, that maybe I'm messed up too much but I see even the weirdest people try their luck at a normal life. I could never. For someone such as me, someone damaged, someone who never could summon those emotions of love, I could never love. I always just run from relationships, every single one I've ever had I always tend to leave, maybe because I'm scared of them leaving me, or maybe because enough of them, always irritate me, they leave a sour taste in my mouth. On my deathbed, quote these words: "I'll never love". My entire life, I think I always missed something, and that something is much too dead to ever feel an emotion of love. Sure, I can get close but always I will end up leaving, do not trust my friendship. Ah, I miss my friends that I made. These guys, they always had something to say. I would say this lonely, deserted self, is the real me, more real than any type of person I try to portray. Do not shed tears at my funeral, spit on my grave, for a human such as me, deserves no less. 

Fractured

 Its currently 6:48am. Not much going on, well not much to speak about. If I am being honest I didn't expect to get this far,  to keep on breathing the same air, talking to the same people, its strange to me. I think maybe I'm not really supposed to be here. I always thought I would be gone by now. I know, its a bit morbid, I know its a bit melodramatic, but fuck it. I'm a bit drunk but I feel fine. I feel fine, I'm fine. I think inside today, I'm just really sad, almost like its too much for my heart to handle. I don't know where it comes from but no amount of tears could ever make me feel better, no hugs, no amount of therapy... maybe I was just born broken, or damaged. I think I'm a freak, a person without an objective, unnatural. Who cares, though. What matters is what I decide to do with my life, maybe ill do something worthwhile! Because fuck the world! And fuck these people! 

Wake

 Currently 6:35am. I just don't want to wake up, I remember the times in school that I had the constant thought, I wish I never woke up. Most days I wish the next day would never come, when my eyes never opened again. I wish I was more drunk to say this, more tired, more sad. Unfortunately I'm not. I keep expecting these things in my life, like I'm owed them, by some sort of miracle they would appear before me, and they just never happen. I wish I could wallow in this eternity of self indulgent pity forever, but that wouldn't be very "healthy" would it? If only it were...

Old

It's currently 4:18am. I am again, lost in thought. It honestly feels like an eternity since my last entry, I've almost forgotten how to write. I'm in no way feeling anything at the current moment. Ever since I left my job I have felt this strange detachment of my purpose. Working, I felt that I had some stability and reason for living. Now, I feel like I'm in a strange world where nothing really matters, and nothing feels  like anything. I'm feeling numb, the more I feel numb the more apathy comes in waves and I realize nothing really hurts me anymore. I'm afraid of this, because at some point I feel as if this new person that's developed will kill my other self, then who, would I be? I feel at ease at times, basking in this emptiness, because I know nothing will hurt, but I fear staying in it forever. I want something to give to the world, but I don't know what I could give them. An old heart, maybe. 

Really, truly, everything

 It's currently 6:59pm. Ironically, I begin this post with a minute to spare, as time is forever moving forward. It's incredible how a single minute can be an eternity, or it can be less than a second. In one second, I could tell you a word that would encapsulate an emotion, such as anger, or love, sadness even. When we begin to deconstruct things, like an emotion in such a trivial conjunction of letters, it almost devalues the meaningful impact of the emotion itself. Much like our notions of morality in a world so uninterested in our very existence. Reality, I like to believe isn't as 'real' as we so proudly like to shout. How if the horrors of truth, were to be spoken to the average man, would make him blubber and crumble like the very feeble and weak pounds of flesh he represents. Oh they shout, how one without empathy should be shunned! Oh how they should be weary of these evil creatures! Every day, people are butchered, are torn, are violently molested. Humanity should not avert their eyes, at these heinous acts, but they should watch closely. Humanity should be held a mirror, in hopes they acknowledge it's abhorrent face. In many dreams, I wish that we would choose to realize the evil within, in hopes of changing ourselves to truly see what we are. On the other hand, should we see the evil, we may agree that it was, in fact who they were all along, and decide it's what humanity is, evil, monstrous, and forever a plague on the cosmos. It can be too much, too much sadness, too much apathy, too much to even try. I guess we'll see.

Forgetful

 It's currently 5:07am. Tonight or I should say, this morning I feel bored again. I have a boredom that precedes my future possibilities. It's strange to be here, once again. Once we have obtained our goals, where does one go? I keep pondering this, for if one finally achieves their greatest desire, then what more to life, can there be? What if, for one it is not to be a millionaire, or to find true love, or to be famous but what if it were to be able to wake up in the morning, and say "yes, I want to go to work". What drives people? The more I live, the less love I tend to feel, I'm protruding sensations of apathy in my everyday life, it surprises me that people around me do not see it flooding out of me. Oh how I see them with glimmers of hope in their eyes, how I envy that feeling. Who are we, but nobodies willing to pretend everyday like one has meaning. It never leaves, this feeling of seclusion, this feeling that I will never be completely human, it blinds me this shimmering loneliness, at times it feels unbearable. Unbearable that I could never truly connect, that I can never truly empathize, what is one life in a sea of souls, though? Reality is, one may never mean a damn thing, and THAT scares me.

Bug

 Currently 5:59am. I am not tired, I feel very empty in every sense of the word. I feel no lust towards anything, no interest or joy in anything. Bored, I'm bored. I can imagine living like this, for a few years, and it's almost unbearable, the emptiness of my head. Like, I have been hollowed out. Who has the strength to do anything, when times such as these come? Who has the strength to even want? How does one exist, I begin to question. I begin to question the futility, of anything and everything. Everything, at some point, feels meaningless, but it hold no weight, my words, there's no sadness or pain with anything I say. Like I am in a limbo, but it is so dulled out and grey that even the slightest of emotion would at least begin to pull me in a direction, yet I feel none. It is like trying to cry, when you are not even the least bit sad. I remember moments like these, so well, I would end up looking up gore, to shock me into reality, but when there is none, I am sorely empty. It is not loneliness that I feel, because one would feel sad and pitiful in such a mood. Simply put, I am like one of the many bugs that buzz into your room on a hot summer day, unaware, only existing for sustenance, and unimportant. Times like these, I can't seem to form sentences, much less have anything of interest to say, or do. I think I am fading away again.

Monotony

 Time is currently 8:41am. I sit here postulating on ideas of earlier, with no avail for any sort of sense. I feel as if my life has become an empty shell of what was before. It has become a monotonous grind of consistency. For if we are consistent, shall we gain fame? Consistency marries the notion of success, for if one does not become consistent he is destined to be a lost cause. I lay here, buried in a mountain of excess of time and consistency, yet hold no notion of success of fame to my name, I feel as if I am wasting my time in things I should spend alone, wallowing in my own pain and sadness. This place I call home is nothing but a cave of sadness and a hole of enduring pain. I wish to leave this home, I wish to embrace the completeness of life. Oh how does one mend a heart so burdened by hatred? Oh how does one live to embrace such a rich fruit of life? I can only fathom, I can only dream of such a life. I am so tired some days, to be consistent it tires me. I am tired all the time because of the pressure that I have made upon myself. I am tired of all the people who pressure me into being something other than another person. Maybe it is time I look to the stars and see their bright shining luster, maybe it is them who will bring me the hope I need to survive the upcoming years of turmoil these humans so politely thrust upon us. I don't know, but surely I will find a way. If I don't then, hey, it's been a fun time. 

Humans

 Right now its 6:57am. I dislike typing on my phone but I felt I needed to write this all out. I see on social media how connected people are, all the time, it fills me with a sensation of drowning, how these people do not feel a sense of being underwater and overwhelmed with so many connections and socialization is beyond me. I feel at times I need more than "alone time" like there's a certain amount of that "alone time" that just never gets filled. I feel as if one day I might dissappear from the world, leave all my problems, and issues in another world. I might call myself Eric or something just for myself to get out of my head. Leave to a world where nothing is common, or familiar. I kept thinking to myself recently, that I might just be broken, or lost, how these flesh mounds of people can be so incredibly different from me, I can never understand. I think THAT is the fundamental issue with myself, and society, that I can never touch the brim of everyone's world, as they so easily do mine. Only time will tell, if I am more alien, than man, I guess. What a disaster.