Wither

 It's currently 5:17am. I'm using my phone to type, it feels a little strange, to be using a phone instead of typing it out on a keyboard. Nonetheless ill try my best to express myself in a much more intimate way than I can on stream. Recently I have been feeling a lot more hollow. Maybe my emotions are starting to dwindle, I keep coming back to my past trauma. It would seem that I have something that I cannot address, but I have somehow secluded and buried this grotesque scenario deep in my psyche. In the times I think about it, I feel incredibly afraid. I feel that I may never go back to the person I was if I end up seeking this instance, this evil in my heart. I am afraid of what I will find, I'm afraid that the feeble wall that I managed to build through the years may finally break and I will lose all sanity and patience. It's a bit maddening to not have memory, but if it means that I am stable, as a person then I will gladly accept the holes in my brain. I find myself deeply ingrained in loneliness, to the point where I am questioning the arbitrary meaning of connection. I feel like I am on the outside looking in. I think I've made the conscious decision to be alone for the rest of my life, regardless of love, or simple connection. I think I'm just a little stranger than the rest of humanity, as much as I know I want to be like everyone else, I will never be like them. If you are like me, then remember that we are the beings that the normals write about, cursed beings tormented by loneliness and at the same time madly in love with it. Seek not help from unwanted normals, because you are perfect just the way you are.

To my future self

    It is now 7:33 am. I was told recently from my friend, about a certain experiment. It's about suicide. For myself, I presume nothing but utter rawness from your soul. Tonight is the night, it's the night that I finally say goodbye to the world that I used to know. This world that I despise, this world that hates me for who I am. At times, I know I was delighted to hear simple things to quell these thoughts, such as I provide a service to others, that can not be found anywhere else. Yet the more I lived, the more I saw, and I'm too sad, I'm sorry. I think that I can't be happy I think I'm a little too broken for this world, maybe I'm a little too odd to function in a place like this. I remember looking up some quotes from people who have committed suicide before, trying to find a semblance of humanity, of normality, and I unfortunately.... did. I'm sorry to my mother, I'm sorry to my father, I'm sorry I couldn't fix myself. I'm sorry for all the things I could've done better. To all my friend's who have spoken to me, I'm sorry I couldn't be more of help to you, it's just too hard. It's too hard to trot day by day, pretending to be happy when I know I clearly am not, to presume my daily functions, as if it does not hurt me so much. It's strange, to feel happy, because I think as I type these letters onto this hub of imagination I feel a sense of actual true and complete joy. I'm sad, I'm sad that people like me will never find that happiness. I'm sad I could not do the things I have always wanted to do. I am sad that I could never be the hero that my people deserve. I hope that one day, you will find that special person, that special human that makes life worth living, whether it be another person or maybe it's yourself. To me, it was never another person, this hole I felt was so hard to hide, but I believe some person out there could fill it with themselves, loneliness my friend, isn't something to be afraid of, but to embrace. Embrace the solitude, embrace the chaos, like so many others decide to hide away from, be different. I just want to say that the world doesn't deserve people like us, like you and me, they don't deserve to have us. People like us, really only have a few options in our life, suicide, homicide, or to align with these facades of humans we call our brethren. Choose, and then accept the fate. I think for me, this was always my destiny, this was always how it ended, no matter my choice. So I just want to say fuck the world. Fuck everything.- Brian

I just don't understand

Currently 5:23am. I sit here, alone and tortured not by someone else, but by my own memories of a better time. I am but a horse being spurred by a master too deranged and mad with speed he does not realize my skin has begun to bleed. I am alone, time and time again I tell myself this sentence. I am alone, alone with my thoughts, alone with my memories, alone with my pain. I live alone, albeit surrounded by people, I am more alone than a layman could ever fathom. To want love, is natural, to want connection is natural. It is unnatural we are told, that one should want solitude, that one would find themselves intoxicated by their solitude, so in love with being alone that one would choose to throw themselves in a place where none could touch them, or speak to them. Ah the 1% the 1% of people who know my pain, yet speak they do not. Voiceless, and with them dies the shred of hope I have with my connection to humanity. What a fucking disaster, an absolute tragedy and yet here I am, awake and breathing still I choose to live. To live in a pitiful existence, with nothing but my thoughts to guide my movements in every day. I just don't understand these people around me. I know, it's a sentence reiterated by many a normal, by the horde. When the horde does not align with what they perceive to be normal, ah but they have only seen a sliver, a tiny speck of what we have to live seeing every single day. It's these voices, these people who desperately try and connect with others to give their brains stability, to realize that they are here, they are alive. So what of us? What of the ones who simply see? The ones who speak nothing, and only see what happens around us? Are we not of this world? Are we not real? I don't know. I simply don't know.

Loner/Lover

It's 5:54pm, on the fourth of July. Usually, I have this desire to boast about my accomplishments, or embellish on meaningless things in my life. Honestly I don't wish to come off as a person that likes to pretend he's more than he is. I am simple, simple to almost a detriment. My life is so meaningless, if I died tomorrow, there would be little people to show up at my funeral, I feel myself slipping in and out of a state of madness at times, dark and blotchy. I have these strange ideas, that when I am in the midst of euphoria, that you get from the close people around you, it puts me off. It's as if I'm not in completely, like I'm feigning these emotions to please the people around me. It's not that I hate them, I do not hate them, I simply dislike them, I dislike the feeling of community. I at times feel like an alien in the sea of humans, not in a way that my individuality can be something to be proud of. More of a way that my individuality makes me abnormal, it makes me excluded from these people. I cannot enjoy family, I seem to be a bit odd, in that way. I cannot completely give myself to people it seems, and I don't think that is evil or wrong, but it makes me very lonely. I am lonely. So alone I will stand, if only to give hope to someone that feels the same as I. To those individuals, I say stand alone as well, for we are one and the same even if we are worlds apart, I am here, I am real. Fear me.

Torture

It's 6:07am. Today I have a certain pressure, like a weight that weighs upon my soul. I think many people feel this way, that they have something holding them back from being something great, but maybe this weight is what keeps them from ascending. What if, instead of it holding them down, it's keeping them grounded? Grounded to reality that they will not be anything more than the average? There's this fear of being this average person, someone who pays their bills on time, and doesn't have enough lavish money to spend on things that are arbitrary. Sure being average is great, but to someone who comes from poverty, there's not really any other option other than to succeed. Success in any single form of reality, because average simply doesn't cut it. Average gets you another old house you can't pay for, average gets you another number in the cosmos, average gets you another life in the infinitude of the universe. To be something great though, means something, it means difference, it means success, it means you are something different, so be different, be unique.

Another bottle down

Currently 7:11am. I'm drunk, of course. I don't really know how to start these things anymore. I feel whenever I tell people about my asexuality, I feel myself lying to them. I think it's because heterosexuality is so ingrained in our society, I try to appease this inner turmoil that I might change, eventually, once I fuck or once I find the right girl. Personally, I don't think I'll ever find the right girl or guy, not that I am giving up, more like I never really cared for finding someone. I think it's because of how I am. Maybe, I think I am too screwed up, or a little too intense for people, still I know of people who would jump head over heels for someone like that, and yet I resist. I resist because I find myself in a position of where I wouldn't want to be in, ever. I am a little strange sure, does that mean I will never find a lover? Not necessarily, it means I have to try harder, but what if I never want to try? What if I never want to find a person who's skin comforts me? Who's laughter illuminates my life? Who's eyes pierce my very soul? What of the people who decide love is not for them? What comes of their meaningless lives of fortune, and solitude? I think it's truth, I think it's knowledge, and fulfillment. I have so many questions, but the only one who can answer them are me, someone so out of touch with reality, that humans no longer mean something to me. They are something I can never figure out, so there's little reason to pursue questions. I'm done, I think, with trying to understand them, to live a life of lies hidden in smiles and fortified by a personality buttered to their liking. I am not like them, and it's time to stop acting like I am.

Questions

It's 7:38am. Currently a little bit drunk, what a surprise you may say. Ah but the sweet taste of liquor does not carry such a burden on my brain as it once did. I think I am much happier now, streaming. I think I enjoy myself a lot more than when I am doing things I would rather not do, like going to work in a place that does not interest me. Many times, I find myself questioning what I will say next. I sometimes fear, when I speak too much, or write too much about myself I realize that one day may come, when I have no more stories to write, no more things to say to the world, what then? Do I sit alone, wallowing in despair, waiting for the reaper to come take me? Do I yell against the world for it's pervasive inaccuracies? Do I accept it, and move on? So how does one move on from the most principal of human objectives? To become what they want to be, seems like an alluring dream, something made from fairy tales, and as I grow older, it seems to be just that. I think if that day ever does come, I may finally rest. Rest my eyes from a cruel world, a cruel world made from the bodies of others, made from the blood and flesh of many conquerors, of the plagues and trauma of the cruelest of humans. It might finally be a paradise. Who knows? I sure don't.