Concerts

 It's 9:05pm. I went to "The Devil Wears Prada" concert in my city. While I took some shrooms, I gave my friends some as well. I had an amazing time on them there, moments where I was genuinely frightened, but most of the time I enjoyed myself vibing to the music. My friends on the other hand, felt very aggressive and annoyed. Their time there wasn't enjoyable. Which got me thinking, why do I hold value in what they perceive? Is it because I value their insight? Should one truly have such value in friendships? I've been frustrated as of late, like these people I've met are fun. Fun and nothing more. I want to enter their hearts but I feel like they don't show me, and if they do I don't like what I see. More and more I think personally, I am meant to do more for myself and myself alone. Always and forever, it is US it is ME that must come first. One who is not meant to love, to truly open my heart, it is US who must make something of this void and hold the world in our palms. Connections seem diminished, they are a waste of time. I keep coming to this conclusion, that which is in the core of my being, that I am alone and will forever be. 

Superdose

 Time is 8:58pm. There's so much beauty in the world, I have to say. The more I've taken mushrooms the more beauty I find myself surrounded in. At the same time, this last trip I took a day ago, I realized how truly hopeless I am. I am not sure if this is indicative of a "bad trip" but I did take a different strand of mushrooms this time. Usually, I have a strong sense of euphoria when I'm on shrooms. This time though, I found myself completely alone, and still able to see the beauty of things, but it was much more introspective. I have realized now that these powerful natural occurring fungi, as fun as they are will not truly change me. I have garnered a different perspective, sure. I have found enjoyment in socialization through them, but once they wear off I'm again the same person. I am the same man through and through. I love that they are fun, and at the same time frightening, if abused. It's a fine line though the line we tread on a trip. More and more I enjoy myself. These things I think should be used alone to truly delve into what makes my life, my life. 

Questions

 It's currently 8:42pm. Lately I've been noticing things about people. Their tastes, their likes, their interests, their traumas. I can't say I do not feel anything for them. Is it pity? Is it empathy? Who's to say? Not I, for someone such as I who feels so little I am once again thrust into emotionally charged words. How does one comfort others? How do I saturate my face with emotion? Numbness is all I know at these times. Disassociation by fleeing. My default setting of numbness, of emotionless apathy. I notice things, yes, I ache to feel attached. I ache so much, but never could feel it. I fear I've lost so many emotions, apathy is the only constant. I enjoy knowing others, intensely. I enjoy seeing their sadness, their fears, their joy. Is it because I ache for knowing their emotions? Is it because I cry out to god in anger for making me this way? God is a pathetic notion, for in the vastness of the absurdity we call the cosmos, we have the gall to call this divine perfection? So cosmos, absurdity, indifference, why have you made me so? To give me a hell of your own making? Or is it because I am meant to live a different life? Where am I to go? Who am I to be? 

A simple day

 It's currently 11:49pm, at the time of writing this blog entry. I'm listening to "I'm Single" by Lil Wayne. It was recommended by a friend. Today I began by waking up at 7:30am, for work. I went and left, came home and watched "Scooby-Doo" the live action movie with Matthew Lillard. I can tell you right now, that he did a phenomenal job in portraying Shaggy. It really sold the movie, his dynamic with a very 2000's cgi dog. I slept through a couple horror movies, that my sister ended up watching. It's strange to want to connect yet be so far away. I dislike the time I spend with my family. I connect with them, but the times I do it never feels good. It feels wrong. I took a mushroom pill of 500mgs. I spent time with Zolt in his stream, simply listening and vibing to the music. Coming down, I tried to realize the complete oneness of my life. I know as an asexual person, I could never be like them. It's sad to me, to never able to love. I do not mean sex, but love, romantic love, it's alluring. Alluring but unsatisfying. Always unsatisfying, as everything really seems to be. When I came down, I realize how truly uninteresting my life really is, how unsatisfying it has been. I find myself in a wallow of sadness and misery. I assume this emotion is what I've normally felt, and have grown numb to feeling. I am now listening to Low Roar, great band. Now I plan on going to sleep soon, but my emotions are still raw. I don't enjoy things anymore I've come to realize, everything is simple and boring. Is this life? Is this how it always was? When did it get like this? I don't know. 

Blackened soul

 It's currently 11:14pm. In the throws of my emotional stupor I find myself tonight doing silly things. I kept thinking about this thing I wrote in my head. Saying it out loud I found truth. Never live a life of things unsaid, it'll kill you inside. It's so hard though, to breathe again, after saying what you needed to. The settling of leaves after a tornado, it feels like. Again and again I keep these feelings to myself. My walls are being broken. For someone with a black soul, the cracks that have formed are much brighter than someone would imagine. A pathetic little show. 

Connect, or Don't.

 Now it's 2:39am. I want to talk tonight about the strings that we've made in our lives. Time and time again I reiterate the fact someone like me despises connections, rejecting the desire for friendship, and love. I sit here today distraught, for today I am again show a stretched out hand. I turn away, and signal detachment. But today I'm met with more determination, this hand. I despise this, I reject this, and yet they stretch their fingers unto mine. I do not need a hand, I do not need help, I will find my way through the dirt filling my lungs. Gasp and gasp I shall, but for the next few years of gasping their will be release, whether it be from the last of the oxygen leaving my brain, or from a sigh of relief to be above ground. I don't need anyone. I certainly don't need you. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

It's a job

 Currently 4:03am. More time than not I'm sitting here alone, bored and trying to taste an emotion that has for the most part left my being. Tonight I seek closure, I seek an end. In this moment I find myself staring into the abyss, the void. Oh how bleak you stare back at me, how you envelop me in your darkness! I am enamored with your cold touch, I am forever entranced by your call. Tonight though, I seek a moment of beautiful silence. I seek a hopeful thread. Tonight I find myself unaware of your call, it must be the changes I've been having. These friendships, these connections, I think have made me disillusioned, they cloud my judgement. In the end I long for you, I ache for you, I want you. I will forever want your taste, and yet I sit here in my misery. Miserable man, whining for a love that has forgotten him.  

Can't figure

 Currently 12:27am. I come today with emotions, they're bubbling in my being. I find myself as of late, more drowning in these emotions of fear. I've been making these connections recently, and haven't been letting them go as of late. I feel more attuned to normalcy, to humanity. Is it normal to feel such anxiety of these connections? I remember in my earlier years, I found myself too scared to continue connections, severing them in quick succession. It was easy, to lose friends. It was an easy thing to pull away, to forget. Nowadays I keep these connections, but I feel incredibly vulnerable, afraid, like they will hurt me. I am not sure if I will do the thing I always do, pull away. Distancing myself feels correct, it feels like I'm in turmoil at the moment. I am not sure it would be so easy, to cut it off like a frostbitten limb. It's quite enticing, sweet release. At the same time I enjoy connections, but I feel like it's wrong, to have so many to keep so many. I might just do it again, and hit the reset. People are cruel, I know this, so why do I wish to keep myself so attuned to their cruelty? Why do I struggle to keep myself open? It is because my heart is not one to be open, but a closed casket forever, and always. 

It's been 3 weeks

 It's currently 12:50am. Why are you still here? It's been three weeks and you're still here, I can hear your soft whispers. Like the mermaids sweet lullaby I'm entranced. I can almost taste your lips with every note. It's been three weeks and you're still here and I can't get you out of my head. I can't let you leave. 

There's no reason for me to keep feeling anything for you, yet I can't forget you. I can't forget the moments I wished would've happened. The words I wanted to say to you. For a moment I really thought I could open my heart. For a single moment I really thought I could change. Yet as the days go by, I see I never meant a single thing for you. Another disillusioned lost boy in a sea of men. Another tool to use. Another moment of sexual disappointment. I can see I meant nothing. And yet I grieve, I ache for your dulcet voice, I long for your scent. There's nothing for me, I was fine with my solitude, I was broken but put together, and now I'm scattered amongst miles of sand and bones. I do appreciate the time we shared, for without it I would never know my reality. The reality of love. Love that I cannot ever share, love that I despised so much, love that I forever envy. It's something to observe from afar, I see that now. Never will I entertain the warmness of it. Never will I open myself again. Never will I hold you in any contempt, because I know you along with countless other lovers seek it, to grow from it. I hate that I could never love you, and I'm sorry. 

Gigantic

 It's currently 11:33pm. I find myself alone here, along with Sam Smith. I wish that his tunes would make me tremble with excitement, make me whisper his words. Yet I stay here, slightly tired, mostly bored. I sip this tasteful liquor with disgust. from a bottle too drained. I always cough at the taste. In these times I find myself so completely sad. I miss this feeling, all to many a time I miss this emotion. More and more these days I am disappointingly numb. I remember emotions fondly, every single minute filled with another hopeful taste. The emptiness though, it's like wading though a puddle. Like eating fruit that's filled with bland pudding.  I miss this, sadness. I miss it's ache, I miss this comfort. I keep telling myself that I need no one. Yet I always call for more. I call myself to humanity, as if clinging onto a cliff's edge. It would be easier to simply let myself fall. I am not a man who loves connecting. I am a man who loves his emotions. Emotional love in every way, sadness, joy, love, jealousy, pain. If anything, I am a man in a war, a war of emotions. A war he will never truly win, and these days I wonder why I ever was born. Why a person like me tears himself asunder. I know there will never be an answer, for as long as I breathe, I find no comfort in another. Loneliness is my true love. 

Choose

 It's currently 7:05pm. I sit here once again, but with something to say. Something I feel. Emotions are hard for me, that I am sure you already know, reader. To try and conceptualize an emotion is kind of like pulling out a tooth. The twisting, the pull of the tiny white rock, the taste of nickel, the release of the nerve from your gums. Most of the time I do not feel intensely. The times I do feel, I feel strange, nauseous, sick. Like I ate something rotten, sitting in the pit of my stomach, just aching to get out. I feel sad? I think? Annoyed, more like, frustrated. I usually try and listen to music to help me truly enter this emotional state, but I feel like it's not helping. It's as if music gives me no reaction, no feeling. I tried recently to invite some friends to go and do something, flakes. Disappointing flakes. I understand, people have things going on. Not everyone should cater to me, yet I feel like I cater to everyone, I bend my knee to whatever they wish. I think it might be time to distance myself. I'm just tired of trying so hard for my friends. I think I'm just going to do what I want, ignore everyone else and have fun on my own. I want to live again, and the only way to DO THAT is to do things on my own, forever. Forever in LOVE with MYSELF and MYSELF ALONE.

Heart of Stone Eyes of the sun

 It's 8:14pm. Right now, nothing seems interesting. I am an uninteresting guy. Lately I feel like most of the things I've been doing show no promise. In that way, everything seems useless. What am I to do with this? Am I supposed to figure out why this is? I think it's my brain's way of telling me I'm supposed to be working on my passion, my true passion. I'm supposed to be writing. The days drag on, but they go so quickly. Already it's been 10 years since being 17. I'm 27 now, and in this time usually people have full careers, children, or are becoming who they are truly meant to become. I have none of those things, I feel as if I was cursed to die at a younger age. Now, I sit here rotting in my cage of flesh, preparing to lose my mind, numbing myself with alcohol until I realize that I am in fact a walking disease. Nothing will save me from myself, I have to crawl out from the depths of hell biting through mountains of teeth and skin to salvation. I will be saved and I will do it myself.

Sex

 Right now it's 7:38pm. I'm sitting here in complete and utter distress, yet again my brain refuses to let me ponder meaningless interests or ambition from the standpoint of my fellow man. It's been reiterated more than once, that I am an asexual. I have always had a disinterest in sex, and all associated feelings with this. Romance could only be felt through observation for me, never felt it firsthand. I numbed myself to a point in which romance could never be in my life. At the same time, I didn't feel upset about it, the only thing that upsets me about this is the rest of my being. I believed and still do believe I must be unwell, or too messed up to ever even consider love. The fact that sex is such an integral part of our society is upsetting to say the least. Disgust, anger and sadness, those are the feelings I attribute to sex. It is disgust because of the act itself, genitalia, something we all hide as to not bother others with it's disgusting presence. Anger because of my own personal incorrectness, my own inadequacies. Sadness because of my irritable nature, my ugly and frankly unnatural demeanor. I keep asking myself WHY why do people find sex such an important part of love? Then I remember I am not normal, I am not like they, why do I keep trying to force myself to be like them? Sex is important because it shows them gratitude, it shows interest, it shows that they are beauty incarnate. Sex is integral for them. Not for us, though, not for us. 

Where

 It's currently 12:48am. I want to talk about my recent thoughts. Lately, I have been noticing my insecurities more often. More often than not, I find myself enthralled with fantasy in romance. I long for someone to love, and to be loved intensely, completely. I stab myself in my stomach though, consistently. It would be a horror to let my significant other look at my organs. I like to push friendships away, it seems. I know deep down I have a significant disinterest in companionship. For many reasons, I like to show love in small bursts and leave. I enjoy the distance, I enjoy being 'free' from the cage of love. Many days I mull in loneliness. Many days I cannot find the tears to cry. I simply wallow in my sadness until it passes. I am coming more to terms that I as a person simply cannot ever truly love. It does not cause me much distress to know I will die alone. It does not mean that I do not feel this empty hole in my chest though, and the times that it does come around it's unbearable, like I'm falling eternally in a void of darkness. Even in friendships, I cannot entirely be close with my friends. From everyone in my life, I feel the closest and more open with the two friends I have. I have shared my deepest and most troubling thoughts with them. I will never truly be open with anyone, lest it be myself. These pages, granted, digital, I find myself as open as I could ever be, yet I hold back. I'm starting to think the intimacy I want is only in my head, and imagination of intimacy is what I'm mimicking in reality. 

Finding true solitude

 It's 6:10am. Recently I have tried the whole relationship thing. What I have found, as an asexual is that it is of little interest of me. Time and time again I have found myself trying to grasp on to the tails of normalcy. Like many others, loneliness is a bane of existence that seems to tether us to our connections. Time and time again I find myself disinterested in more and more of these ideas. It is strange, I would think, to others. Yet I see that in an ideal world, I remain alone. I alone shadow the light of life, I alone could ever think of the love I have for others. There is simply no reason to love another when I could easily love myself. Love can no longer be limited by another. just and only, simply to love myself.

Always forever

 Today it's 6:03 am. I am in a drunken stupor. In these moments I find myself ultimately disgusted. Disgusted by the vanity of humanity. I find myself in another rant against the core of human nature. I find myself true in these moments of solitude. For, every moment every second I feel the freedom of solitude, I veer farther from the closeness of human nature. I am not truly angry, but disappointed in the nature. Recently, I have tried to connect. Dating and relationships seemed very uninteresting to someone like me, for most of my life. My early years of life consisted of iffy friendships, off-putting remarks by strangers, and the closeness that could only be felt by true loners of the free world. Solitude has brought me my real nature.

Unaware

 It is currently 3:16am. I am sitting here with nothing but the whirling letters stabbing my brain like a bundle of tacks. In these moments of silence I tend to struggle with acceptance, accepting the person I look at in the mirror, accepting my life is a random accumulation of my past mistakes, accepting my lost friendships. I sometimes feel at times like these, an unimaginable ache. An ache, a yearning for the love I shared with my friends, of a different time. I miss the moments I have alone, I miss the moments I had with no fear, no obligations, blissful ignorance. I have this massive weight that I cannot ever escape from, and with every moment that passes I break another rib. I still have writing though, something to whisper to, something that is entirely mine. It's all I have really, all I should ever need from life. Writing.

Gnashing

Currently, 7:20pm. I am now at the ripe old age of 27. Two.. seven. Twenty-seven years since the day I breathed my first breath of air. I am surprised, ultimately that I have lived so long. I expected to die much sooner, to an accident, to a small mistake that I made, or to a murder, violence or to myself. My death has no meaning. Who bats an eye at the hundreds that perish every single day? Not to mention the animals slaughtered for their flesh, every beat of their hearts extinguished by the conveyer belts of impending doom. I keep thinking about the 27 and under club. You know, the many artists that died before or at the age of 27. Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, to name a few prominent members. I can't help but think this is the year, this is the year I'm finally able to move on from my past mistakes, anger and sadness that so much stayed in my life.

 What ridiculous things I taste, in the air at twenty-seven. Lately, things have not felt very real anymore, my physical touch I feel is becoming numb. Everything I do is similar to yesterday, days don't feel real. I sometimes think that I want to throw myself from a car going 70 to see if I feel anything.

 How I long for the taste of my blood and sweat from the scraping of flesh. I hope that something gives this year, I don't feel like I have very many more years to give.