A cold day

It's 3:39 am. It was a cold day, a few days ago. As I stepped out into the world beyond my sheltered home, I could smell the September winds. When I was told he was no longer with us, I felt horror. Not the horror you see in the movies, no that one is too mild. It's like a horror you see in the violence, and gore. That horror which I feel is integral in our lives, to feel. I felt horror the entire day, because I knew what had happened. I began to piece together his last moments, the reason he was so inclined to leave us. Unfortunately, it's not something you really want to think about, when you think of someone you care about. It's like seeing an adorable puppy be smashed under a car, or a child being disemboweled on razor wire. Thinking about all the times he made us smile, thinking about how many lives he touched, only for his spirit to go out in a matter of hours. I am sad, but not a pleasurable sadness that I can cope with. His is one life, I wish I could have changed, for the better. Now, I am left with nothing but memories of a boy too tortured from his past, who was unable to bear the weight of his demons. I see all his friends, everyone forgets who he was, what he wanted. I wish I could've done more, I say, but I know that even if I had, the pain would be too great. Just to see a man, who's life meant so much to be lost so quickly, it's really painful. Pain that I hope will stay with me forever, until I breathe my last breath, until my eyes can see no longer, pain that I hope will always remind me that he was there, that he was someone, and never to be forgotten. Thank you Josh.

Violence

It's 5:10am. Ever since my sister told me "your mind always goes to gore". I have been thinking about it. It's a strange way that my mind procures such images. It's like I cannot figure out why I am alive. Every day I see animals that lie dead in the streets, without a care in the world, cars pass by. As if these things are simply small meaningless objects. I reject such a notion, I see the guts and blood that has been spilled by someone that didn't care enough to look both ways or stop. I see the evil in their eyes, I see the life that was taken by such a being. I think, I see children being mauled and see people being torn apart by cars. I want to see such things. It is not because I have some sick and depraved sexual fantasy about it. It is because gore, is truly horrific. The horror I experience is sickening, vile, grotesque, vivid, and real. For all of the years of my life, I feel as if I am being sheltered by society. A society that is uncomfortable with the horrors of reality, the evil and damned that is truly our human race. Such forces, that like to shelter us with dopamine dumps, and  advertised lies. It wants us to be blissful and happy. To our surprise, we aren't really happy until we see the dark side of the moon. The dark side that is filled with sadness, and the stench of rotting corpse I know people might want to say that I am demented, a true fucked up human being. I don't agree, we as children of earth should know the evil that hides, it's traumatic, and truly sad. If we do not know such feelings, then what are we but pigs on  a farm, eating garbage. If we open our eyes, we will be greeted by gore, but it is necessary, to live truly, and completely. So embrace evil, and the sadness that accompanies it.

Comfortable

It's 4:36am. Finding out one's sexuality is kind of scary. Realizing what you are, it points you in a direction. This direction may be one you aren't completely comfortable exploring. When I found out what it was I was fulfilled. The fear didn't set in until a few minutes. I had to grasp that one day I would not be able to find out what true love is. Unlike other asexuals, who do want  a romantic relationship, I always veered away from it. I knew, that no matter how much I may find interest in it, I would never really enjoy my life completely if I found romance. I knew that it would hinder my life. I look around to see these people, so happy and joyous in their positions, so I strive for the same. They all have something I don't, and for that I feel jealous, and sad. Sad that I cannot be like they are. I found comfort today, another. A living breathing person who is indeed real. It's almost as if I can see colors. There is comfort in knowing another has the same personality. While it is strange, it is comfortable, simply, holey, comfortable.

Entity

It's 5:35am. I am drunk, and I am listening to Korean ballads. It got me thinking, why I do things, and why I am like how I am. It is purely me. I am being the real me, when I write it is as if I am finally saying the things in my brain that I want to say. Every single word purely handcrafted from my brain, from the entity inside my head. You know the one, that whispers everyday about something new, something evil. The whispers that linger on every minute of every second of everyday. I think that this entity, is the real me, the one who hopes, and dreams the one who harbors such feelings and emotions. I think I am the shell, that it hides behind, the shell that one day will break, and maybe as the shell I will finally be free of the incessant screaming of the entity that I hold back. I one day will break, and when I do the entity will finally express himself, for who he really is. A thing who cares not for others, who is selfish in his endeavors, and cold distance will envelop his entire being. It's not something that others will like, and I am afraid of him. I fear who he will become and I fear that once I am gone I will never be able to stop him. Sleep well entity, and wake nevermore.

Maybe

It's 4:48am. Maybe. Maybe, for the time being, I am one thing. Maybe tomorrow I will emerge a new person, who can create who can dream. Maybe tomorrow I will have the courage, the courage, to feel. Maybe tomorrow I will finally sense the taste of sweetness. Maybe tomorrow I will break through the flesh and bone of my being and emerge a titan among humans. Maybe on a single day I will shed myself from the mound of flesh and become divine. Maybe I will yell from the rooftops that I am and I be. Maybe just maybe one day I will see into the eyes of another person and I will feel a connection. Maybe just maybe I will finally feel things as others do. Maybe just maybe.

Soul

It's 4:28am. There's a disconnect. Let me rephrase. I am disconnected from others. This misinterpretation seems to permeate throughout my entire life. Existence is difficult, the misinterpretation is strange, because it makes me not feel human. It's as if my human side is dying, or maybe I'm coming to the realization that it never even existed. Each day, I see these mounds of flesh communicate, and they feel joy with others. It's as if I am watching through a window, to the outside world. Culture, the ideal home, the togetherness. I am immune. I am immune to the disease of love, and intimacy. It is disheartening to feel the weight be lifted from my soul. The limitless experience of elation that one feels when then are in love, to me is very limiting. So, the horde will say "you will find that special someone some day, and you will feel amazing." I reject such a notion that one should limit themselves with love. Love will fade, and discomfort will set in, I need something else, something more than a simple emotion can give. It's as if I am not complete without this other thing, not love, not the emotions, but something that I cannot describe, something so infinite that our bones will hollow and shiver from the sheer mention. That our veins begin to feel cold with our blood. That our minds almost break from the realization of the completeness. Spirituality? Nay, something bound by logic is not infinite, but something that we humans cannot fathom, like looking at the spectrum of color, the grey that we cannot see. It is the grey that I seek, the unknown the light of such unimaginable power. Love is but a simplistic emotion, compared to the grey's infinite power. The grey, it's what should power my life, so why should I cling to battered torn emotions? I am conflicted.

Stage

It's 5:25am. I like to listen to conversations with people, eavesdrop on what they say. A lot of the time they things that show their mask, that they've so carefully carved. Sometimes though, when the mask begins to crack, and the finely tuned paint begins to wear off, I can see them for who they are. Feeble, and fragile, as if made of glass. I constantly search for these things, but  at the same time when I see them they are like turtles, constantly going back to the mask. It's strange, because for me I like to use the mask fully, only at times when I find convenient I show who I am. I fear that if I show the real me, they will not like it. It is not an issue of likableness, but an issue of the fear that I will have towards these mounds of flesh. Like I cannot actually root myself in the forest of trees. I am but a robot in a world of bark. A truly steam made machine, imbued with oil and the hand of man, in a world of green vibrancy, that froths at the mouth with moss and ticks. Kicking around the battered horse, I know I am different, but not in a way that is acceptable, like the serial killer or the rapist. It is quite discomforting, but I must adjust, for one does not fight the genetics in our blood. I have been trying to see the world from a glass window, but it is crooked. A pane that is colored in ruby red, while I take a look around and see others looking at it from a shade of ocean blue. If I do not see what they do, do the things that I see truly matter? Are the things in my brain, the things in my hands, really there? If they are not, then they do not matter, and the reality of realness is under another sheet of glass. True, should I look for this pane, steal it from a person next to me, or accept my own pane? A pane that I have looked through for years, and that has gotten more deformed and complex throughout the years? I do not know, and feel as if I will never know. The knowledge though, is what is more important, because I get to know about the other glass windows, instead of simply seeing it through mine. Seeking, curiosity the fear, the life. It is what we must always acknowledge, and I am thankful for that. Until we meet again, in the next window...