Finding comfort

 It's 12:55am It pains me to say these days hold no value to me. With November came a time to rejoice with family, and loved ones. Along with the stuffing, the turkey, warmth and comfort of living in a home, came the truly intense sadness. For as someone such as I, one cannot be comforted by the presence of family. I have this thing that makes me more than uncomfortable, with family. It's as if being near them I have to plaster this smile and take in part of their merriment. It is simply not in me, I am not of the people made with that intact. Forever I feel distant from my blood, and this is not in part of me disliking my culture, or my skin but another entirely alternative hate for the comfort of others. It's never felt 'correct'. I'm not sure if it's because of my childhood, or something I've developed in the past few years. I know for a fact though, that being near others always puts me in a mood of sadness or incorrect place. Even now, as I make online friendships, and bonds, I'm starting to have that distant echo to cut everything off. Like severing the excess fat from my hips. Snipping away at my skin, and muscle. I think as I grow older I might have a sense that I should appreciate family and friends, while I still can. I already have appreciated everything, I just don't think I could ever be happy around humanity. Society, humanity, they are simply too far from me. Too far to want to love, to far to care about, too far to truly sense them anymore. I don't know, this feeling, it's pervasive, it's enveloping, comfortable. It's completely... well... ME.

Distancing

 Currently 11:50pm. It is another night I find myself in a sea of emotion. Oh how I've missed this. It's enough to make my heart swell, my eyes water, my soul sing. I keep finding myself in this area of life where I am looking through a window at others. The older I grow, the father I stray from humanity. I think at some point, I will be in a place so far that I will no longer look through this window, the glass no longer peaking my curiosity. Is it normal I wonder? Is this a certainty that everyone who ages will come to this same conclusion? At times I wonder if my words and actions hold any meaning. I can gloat, I can praise, I can do many a thing, but it all seems meaningless. In the end, the only reasoning behind these things is the meaning that I choose to give it. I can throw a tantrum, and destroy every relationship I've ever had, throw myself into a river of traffic, and like a glimmer from a shard of glass, my life could extinguish. What does one even need the reasoning behind meaning? I think, it's because of this human need to find reasoning in existence. To have some sort of comfort in a chaotic and uncaring life. I would be lying to say I've never heard the call to the end. Regardless, it is not in my best interest to fling myself into such thoughts, there is still much to do before the end. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but the end will always be there, and to a certain degree I find comfort in it. Comfort in the day that it might finally come, and whisk me away. 

The long drive

 It was a long drive from my cabin to the city. I could feel the wind flowing through my hair, my skin slowly beginning to crawl with bumps along my arms. The whiff of grease and oil caught my nose, within seconds I could imagine the flavors all mixed with sauces in a bun. "Oh how delicious" I thought, how one could possibly make such a delectable treat. My mouth began to water at the thought. The road, winding showed no signs of progression, grassy knolls, upon grassy knolls, dead weeds upon dead weeds. I glanced around my broken metal tank, the bag filled with a meaty treat still called to me. The tank was littered with patches of clothing, some wrinkled bags, and crumbs of a forgotten taste. The putter of the engine drowned out the lingering noise of this taste, alas it reared it's head again, whispering to me, yelling at me to claw until I could no longer refuse! I halted the machine to a stop, the roar no longer whimpering in my ears. As I stretched my arms to this delicious meal, I paused a moment to check my surroundings, be it on Halloween that something would go awry in my journey to the city. Empty, all alone. No one to disturb me. I opened the brown bag to reveal the beauty sloppily sliding off of the well rounded bun. As it touched my lips, my tongue, I could not stop myself from tossing it around, the tender strings of meat tough, but all the more chewy. I slobbered for another bite until the meal was no more. I shivered with intensity, no more was this meaty beauty in this world, I could no longer taste such a marvel! A world without this? Nay! I REFUSE. Aloud I scoffed, and exited my metal home. I ran to the end of this marble made car, my keys in hand, and opened the trunk. Looking back at me, with eyes wider than the sun a young sack of flesh pleading for mercy. I couldn't help but smirk again, to think I would let such precious meat go to waste! She struggled in her bindings, but I knew all too well of how one fleshy meal could escape me. Hidden in a compartment, was my tools, the flawlessly curved blades, hacksaw, and of course ropes. I could not wait any longer, my mouth had begun to miss the taste of heavenly flesh no longer could I wait for another opportunity I would eat it THEN and THERE. So I began to hack, in and out, in and out, oh and her cries wailed into the night! Oh how she cried so! And I too cried aloud so enamored by her bleats of mercy. Oh how delicious. (Hope you had a good Halloween!)