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.

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. 

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.

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.

Missplays

 It is 9:55pm. A few days ago I was asked to participate in society. In it, an event with many humans. Oh how they flung themselves in merriment, how they could stand to be around each other in such joy filled me with complete dread. Disgust would be an understatement in what I thought of them. Such a word would be too much. In the time I was there, I found myself feeling completely out of place, distant from all of them. I noticed this emotion, never prevalent before in the way I faced my truth. My personality is breaking through the surface, no longer tolerating incessant smells of others. Yet would I not figure people in a concert to a band I enjoy "my people"? Is this too, something I can no longer enjoy? I am straying further from humanity. As each day passes, like another burnt match, I wither away, who I was. At some point, I fear my emotions may not peak through, forgetting some entirely. In watching them, I see what they like, their thoughts of how they could be completely unfiltered, completely open with each other. I find comfort in that, with friends I enjoy my time, but otherwise it's hell. Hell on earth, scorching me with flames of it's strands of humanity. I need to hollow my bones and call myself a fucking disease. 

Annoyance

 Today is June 26th, current time is 2:20pm. I'm still reeling from the drinking from last night. It would be a lie to proclaim I am at a hundred percent. I still have a small headache, but nothing incredibly unmanageable. It's a little like feeling off balance, not entirely on a level surface. That is besides the point, I know like many of you, I check instagram around 30 times a day. I leave this world and it's troubles for images of splendor, of food that look delicious far beyond the reach of man. Almost like we are transported into another dimension. That is, unlike what I am feeling today. For today, I am bored so bored in fact that I cannot shake from it. It's the boredom that bleeds into the very fabric of my soul. To many, it is easily deterred, smoke a little weed, drink a little, eat some food, listen to some music, be with your family. All of it, EVERYTHING disinterests me. It is unbearably unshakable! It frustrates me beyond belief! I look at all these pictures, of color and beauty, and I am so ANNOYED. As if these people with all their money, and their friendships, their love and beauty, could produce such a mediocre photo. Show me truly another world, another state of being. No, they show me pictures of pre processed feces. Thanks. Mediocrely made disney characters who are so base their motives are easily reproduced in every ten persons walking into walmart. How so bleak. How so sad. How so boring.

Cat

 It's 7:24pm. Cat in a blender. Those four words on their own are meaningless, but if searched on that little blue app can produce one of the most disgusting videos imaginable. I like to consider myself mostly apathetic to most things online, human gore, insensitive words, and videos of graphic pornography tends to leave me more entertained than truly stunned. The animal videos of beheadings, beatings, or animal cruelty is what gets me though. 

More than once, humanity shows it's true colors in moments of boredom. To these people, animals are nothing but inferior playthings, to be tossed, thrown, gagged, and drowned as they see fit. In my opinion, it is what really defines humans. On twitter, I stumbled onto the video only by a meme page, one that poked fun at shocking people than to really cause harm. 

It does disappoint me though, that this video circulates and conjures up the most goblin-esque type audience. Ones that truly enjoy the torture and mutilation of animals. In more ways than one, I see myself as objectively empathetic towards our mammalian friends, but there's a catch. 

For since the ways of old, they served us as a means of sustenance. Butchering, frying, and sautéing flesh for a subtle taste of delicacy, seems at the time one of natures true gifts. At the same time, these gifts are given from beings capable of showing emotion. I remember seeing a picture of a PETA ad, where it is to illicit empathy from people, only to be mocked and shown pictures of flesh wrapped in plastic. I am disgusted, and surprised more often that humanity lives in a state of denial, too blinded by the high horse of how horrible their actions of the many they share. 

"It's fine because Mary, Bob, Eric, and Victoria all are meat eaters. I don't have to think about it." I disagree, I think to really eat meat, we must fully embrace the slaughter, the butchering, the flesh being ripped from bone of the animal. Let us open our ears to the whines of cows being herded into a metal cage, to meet their ultimate demise. Oh, but suddenly it's "cruel" it's "inhumane" I'm suddenly "disgusted". How blind we are, truly, to such complete horrors of reality. So here I sit, poking at the red meat, delighted by the scent, and holding back my last dinner by the mere grace of god.  

Seung- Hui Cho an analysis from a "quiet kid".

 On April 16th, 2007 Seung-Hui Cho decided to carry out one of the most tragic and horrific mass shooting in United States history. He was born in South Korea, and emigrated to the united states with his family at a young age. One of the more interesting attributes, as compared to other mass shooters, was his selective mutism. I find that one of the more interesting things about Cho. As one such as I, a deemed "quiet kid" in my own respective school, have a similar attribute, to be silent. My belief is that when one is quiet, we give off a mysterious tone to others. In most instances, this mystery is only made all the more daunting to approach, when day after day we continue to be silent. The people around us, the "vocal ones" tend to be more attuned to feeling less interested in the mystery, and more weary of it. Humans are more keen to be afraid of the unknown. That is what Cho was, in my opinion. Someone always on the brink of rage, and distress. His writings speak of being fucked, and raped, tortured even. I think, he was sick of being bullied, maybe it was not bullying in a speaking of physical form, but possibly mental. It's easy to believe you're being persecuted by others, when you hardly speak or listen to people you can't help but think they see you as an inferior being. Humanity thrives on social interaction, being deprived of such starts to warp your mind. I think Cho must've been angry, his writings incite a riot, a call to arms to every person who has been angry and distraught by society's whims. I can attest to having such an emotion to revolutionize and catapult our society's downtrodden and abused people. It has been said that Cho is a narcissist, someone who sees themselves above all else. I disagree, while his writing does in fact show him to be this martyr sent by god, he himself never spoke of such things. I think Cho was simply angry, the writings and videos was his last hurrah to give society the middle finger. That doesn't go without saying it was a tragedy that his anger boiled over onto innocent lives. If he would channel his rage into an area where it would harm no one, Cho might've been alive today. Instead, he left 32 dead. If there's one thing that should be taken away from a tragedy like this, is that sometimes people break, and anger could blossom into something horrifically evil.  Here's a piece of his [Manifesto].

Growing. Seeping. Dying.

 It's currently 8:18pm. I have been reading a lot more lately. Although, what I read tends to teeter on the faucet of romance and delusional emotions that are associated with it. It's a bit childish, from my standpoint, but I enjoy it. Love is something I have yet to have an interest in, or will forever be without in my life. It does not mean that I am incapable of it, love for my fellow man, or family will always be prevalent. The thing is, when one considers love of a significant other. I am always hit with the intimacy that I feel I should never share. I remember a writer say we give a piece of ourselves to our lover, but we ask they hand over a piece of them as well. I simply am one of those who refuses to give away their piece. One can amuse the thoughts of comfort as you arrive to a home filled with their open arms. A human who will always be there for you, to hand over your thoughts and embellish your emotions with support. At the same time I cannot forget the troubles it brings, fighting with their own thoughts, working through their whims and subtleties. It's simply not enough that a significant other could offer me, that I would ever want to continue a relationship. It is simply another thing that would distance me from humanity. I scoff at traditional living, at times I find it truly pathetic. Delusional superiority only accentuated by my words to be derived by the true emotion of inferiority that pervades through my very being. To me, I am but a feeble minded insect only being trampled by the societal voices of true "reason". Why should I even consider them? Should WE consider them? Fuck them.