Pictures

It's 3:57am. I was scrolling through instagram, as I usually do about 50 times a day, and I came across a person in a picture that radiated beauty and glamour. I was in love. Then I saw the likes, or notes or whatever the fuck it's called. It was over 4 thousand. I always think these people are somehow inhuman when they reach stardom, the days that made them ascend from normal human status is forever gone, and now they always have a prevalent superiority to others. It's ridiculous to believe that these humans, are something other than arbitrary mounds of flesh walking around in heat, sweating, burping, eating. Yet it is all true, they too shall know the sting of death. Light will fade from their eyes. In that regard, should we feel like we should appeal to these mounds of flesh, and bow before them, as they flaunt their whims and money around themselves to show people like us that they are in fact, superhuman. Reject this notion of superiority, because for how much money, power, influence they have, they will always have to eat, sleep, shit and live. I also see them have these donation boxes, for them to be paid by their slaves. Slaves that will orgasm at the sound of their words being spoken or acknowledged by the mound of flesh. Truly, we are a simplistic and idiotic society. Suckling at the tit of the mound for a moment of freedom from the loneliness. Where do we go when they are no longer near us? Forget the people, forget the mound, and fuck society.

Touch

It's 4:16am. I see how others end up in each other's arms. It's strange to me, that time brings people closer and closer so much that they want to end up holding each other. I would not like that, I mean I would like that. Let me rephrase, I constantly struggle with what I want, and what I know I can get. To me, finding a significant other sounds nice, and comforting. But I know that I cannot fully cope with a significant relationship, it would be much too hard to maintain. I know, because even with all the love that this person may have for me, I know that it too may fade, and should have never been initiated in the first place. It's painful, to me to feel things, because I know the end. In the end, I will die alone, alone in a sense that I am fulfilled. Alone for every single moment that I spent around family, friends, and all the in between. When I do find that solace, when I truly find out where I am and who the person I look at the mirror really is, is when I can finally rest because the person I will ever truly love wholeheartedly and completely will be myself.

Avoiding

It's 5:33am. I am hopeless. I am curious as a cat, yet emotionless as a rock. More and more I see things that I do not agree with, social queues that I do not comprehend. It it those things and more that I find myself questioning. More and more I am awake to. Perhaps it is the design of my brain that differs from these other faceless people. I feel more at a distance than I have felt from others before. I think that it's given me more of a perspective. Although, I begin to believe it is a perspective that is damaging me. At times I wish and hope that by some miracle, by some godsend that all my issues get resolved, and I become a person of society that is accepted, and deemed normal. Like one day, out of the blue, my neurons get ripped out of my brain, and replaced by ideas that all others have. Each day I hope they do, but I know that the day will never come. I must learn to accept my troubles, my pain, and issues. So that one day, I can say regardless of every single soul around me that I am ok with myself. I am fine, and fuck everyone else that thinks I should change a damn thing about myself. So screw society, making me avoid all these delicate subjects, and forcing me to walk on broken glass. I will avoid no longer, to be the true freak I am. Because I am a freak, and a freak I will always be.

Void

It's 5:00 am on the dot, and I am sitting here full of regret. Regret that I have lived so long and not wrote, as it is the most satisfying feeling of all. I am sorry, but not to you, the audience but to myself. It's as if I kept throwing myself into a deeper pit of guilt, my emotions had no outlet. I felt it, pain, sadness and the ever call of the void. You know, the void that calls our name from the depths of the unknown, every day taunting us with it's sweet release. I am not ready, nor will I ever be, I imagine that many of the people who slept with the void weren't really ready, they simply found no other option. I curse the day that brings me to it's arms. Enough about that, as the subject can find no release in my entombed figure. No, inside I am more at ease with my circumstances, as time allows me to ease myself into it. No longer will I cry about the problems that I have, but I should as that is the fire that will cease to quell me. I hope to never doubt myself in that regard. Recently, I tend to see these eyes, eyes that have no light. Maybe it is me that doubts the reality of these eyes, it's as if their lights have flickered into oblivion. People get complacent, they get bored and give up. They give up, why they would do that is beyond me, because their dreams can be achieved, and to see them simply give in is quite sad, but not a sadness that is for that person, but a sadness for humanity as a whole. The entirety of human existence will not know that single person's contribution. It's something like an entire forest being burned by a cigarette butt that could have been prevented. I hope that one day these people may find their dreams, and that they fight tooth and nail for them. Until then, it is to the void we go.

Time

It's 3:35am. I'm awake but it feels like I am not alive. My brain is constantly stuck in a part of my former life. I believe it's because I have difficulties moving on. I remember, as a child I had a particular hard time letting toys go. Throwing them away, I remember giving them a kiss before I threw them in the garbage, a final goodbye to inanimate objects. I think it's because I felt more in tune with them, than I did my family, or my friends. My time, my days of a past life. I remember, those two words, they hold such tremors that could topple the roman Colosseum. It is because I remember the things of my childhood that shape who I am, who I will be. Is that not what we all share? Sharing of the nostalgia, the memories that aren't as great as you remember. I sometimes fear that in the future, I will change into someone I don't ever want to be. Someone who's will is so dead, and brain so lifeless that a corpse would breathe more life than that of myself. Surely, I say to myself I control my destiny, the way I see, the way I choose to speak. Yet I see too much of the opposite in other's lives. If everyone is a tortured soul, is there really a such thing as a normal one? Time, a love and a curse, whatever will we make of thee?

Today I saw the world.

It's 5:23pm. Today I saw the world, not in the rose colored lenses I tend to imagine it, but the raw and fleshy being that it hides. The rawness of life, it's very hollow core. Sure the gore, and violence that I've watched many a time before prepared me somewhat for what I saw, but it does not speak to the volume of being there. The time that slowed down, the perception of invincibility that one has is shaken and left a blubbering child. Many times I had imagined death, the human being is very fragile, and mind so frail. I should be saying how important and valuable life is to us, and how we should treasure it so, but  I won't. No, life is given to the unimportant and meaningless, a simple whim of the cosmos allows us to exist. It does not mean our lives hold no value, nay it simply means we must hold it in perspective even for a second. Sure, one would delve into spirituality when speaking upon how close encounter to death we might've had, yet I feel no closer to God, or Satan. In fact, I feel more farther away than anything. It's no miracle I survived, and in saying it is, is a spit in the face to all the real danger that hides away in shadows every day in our lives, we just willfully ignore the sleeping animal. Chaos, is true order, and with chaos we define our very being. So chaos we shall bow to, and chaos shall dine on our corpses until our very last day on earth.

Loving

It's 3:29am. It's a well known fact that our society is enamored by the feeling of love. We love each other. Infinite, and unbreakable. Love specifically for another person. It's a love that people share so immensely that it is almost unbearable for one person to bear. For someone such as I, I feel so much less. I watched a movie, "the notebook". In it, these two found themselves so in love with one another it was incredibly amazing to see such an emotion take control of their lives to that extent. It's quite interesting to see it from afar. I do feel alien to it, almost immune I feel. Not jealous at all though. It's definitely strange, to believe one so distant, to be so foreign. I'm curious, as to what these people feel so invested into it. Maybe it is a movie among the many that make it seem as if love is a much bigger thing than it really is. If that is the case, then I disagree that they should discontinue making movies about it, because it's such a wondrous and imaginative take on a much blander emotion. More I say, to take us to a place in which it blooms our dreams into fantasies of grand sunshine! Take the me, such fake love! Move our hearts with the mask that we have stitched so well together!