XVI

People these days, no sense of style, no sense of dirrection, no sense of decency, no common sense, no sense at all.

XV

-So, how's suicide man?
-I'm getting the hang of it, but i'm still having trouble.
-Really, why?
-I get the theory, it's just that the practice kills me.










<ba dum tshhhhhh>

XIV

No more lies, no more pretending, no more fitting in. A hatred that consumes me stems from the very nature of things as they are. I hate everyone and everything but mostly I hate myself, and not as a person, but as an idea. I hate the concept of a human, an animal with the capacity to rationalize what it is doing. I hate seeing things as I believe they are, or are they? I’ve been assured they are, but why can’t I be sure of it? Is it really certainty? I hate this dark way and self destructive life philosophy I’ve developed. I hate that I’m finally at the end of my rope and cracking bit by bit, day by day. I hate that I’ve finally got to the point where I wish for the easy way out at such an early age. I hate everything so much that my easy way out would mean a calamity of the most destructive consequences. I’m grateful to science for developing something that can be used to wipe ourselves off the Earth and end this miserable make-believe make-shift bullshit society. I hate that I’ve determined that there is nothing that can be fixed about the current status of humans. I hate that I wish nuclear warfare to end life and existence, dragging along other species with us that did nothing wrong. I hate that everything has started to bore me and that my basic necessity of entertainment is denied. I hate that I am continuously denied the satisfaction of righteousness in a world full of wrong-doings and facades. I hate that I can’t express my honest feeling and go about my average behavior without upsetting someone. I hate the feeling of overpopulation and over-crowdedness everyplace I go. I hate the seemingly long and judgmental gazes people give me and hate seeing people in general. I hate strangers and I hate meeting new people. I hate coming out of my comfort blanket to do new things. I hate all this noise and sorrow that have clouded my senses making me unable to recognize their counterparts. I hate trying too hard to forget but only deepening myself in the same puddle of misery I’ve been swimming in for longest while. I hate acknowledging my problems and writing about them because they should be my and mine only and for me to solve, and yet I hate being helpless regarding them. I hate asking for help just as much as I hate helping others. I hate knowing that fact that if I found someone to related, and I did, we would be both just as helpless and separated.

Now I’m just wondering and counting the days until I finally break completely. By that time I’ll either no longer care or be too insane to be able to. You all need to fuck off. Myself included.

No more dreams, only sleep.

XIII

My quest to find an intelligent life form on par with me that is willing to discuss anything continues.

There won’t be any need for that; you have me, don’t you?

Go away. I can’t even make you up properly.

Maybe if you try hard enough…

Even I don’t have enough mental capacity to simulate two people.

You seem to, though.

No, no, no. It’s not right. It’s pointless to talk to myself, I’m just throwing ideas at a brick wall, we’ll always agree.

With enough practice, you’ll be able to produce and support two different standpoints on each issue.

Maybe… After all, it’s better than nothing… But there’s nothing to discuss really.

Again with that eternal dissatisfaction. You have what to discuss, but no partner, you get a partner and you have nothing to discuss. A blank mind is very annoying. And lamenting to yourself about it doesn’t help at all. Think of something.

But I can’t.

Again with the excuses. There’s so many subjects to think about, and yet...

My mind is blank. A lost sea of despair in the middle of an empty desert. My mind reflects my status. I can’t think of anything because I don’t want to think of anything. My mental capacity is reserved for lamenting endlessly. My body longs to sleep from the minute it wakes up to the minute I close my eyes. I am tired, pissed off and fed up with all the useless work I put into each day. All the motivation wasted on waking up only to do the same menial things, day by day. And what awaits me? Death. Nothing I can be sure of, no substantial reward, but then again, why would I even be rewarded out of the countless individuals doing the same?

Because you’re special.

No I’m not. The fact I am following the same pattern even though I am aware of it shows that.

It’s because you want to stay in normality, or chose the easy way out.

That’s true. I’m too lazy to change. I always was too lazy for many things.

Was it that hard?

It’s never hard to reflect on oneself. That’s not my aim however.

Thinking about the world’s problems doesn’t solve them. Thinking about your own, might.   
I wish to cease existing.

XII

What are you doing in that dark room of yours, just sitting at the floor?
Going insane. 
Why? What's wrong?
I don't know. I never knew?
Poor confused puppy. 
I'm not.
You're talking to yourself, you must be.
I guess when you're alone enough, you develop some sort of dialogue partner.
But it's just a monologue, isn't it.
Maybe.
So, back to your concern, what is really wrong with you? With us.
How many times must I repeat myself? I don't know.
Really?
I don-... Damn it.
Yes, you're all alone. It's one of the problems, isn't it? After all, one doesn't talk to himself if he has somebody to talk to.
But there's no one who I can relate to anyway. The only person I can accept is myself.
Yes. You're the calm little centre of the Earth, aren't you?
It's not that. And after all, if it is, everyone is just self centered either way. I don't care. I don't understand their petty reasons that govern them and they don't understand the petty reasons that govern me.
I think at a large scale, they think of themselves? 
But that still doesn't make me better than them...
Did we just switch roles for a second? 
I'm going insane either way, so it doesn't really matter.
Isolated and driven out by a simple difference of cognition. In all your philosophical and thinking nature, you're still useless, weak and unhappy.
That's true, raising questions you can't have answers for has never made anyone happy. Just mad.
You're not going insane, and you're not special. You're just at an inexistent existential crisis trying to give purpose to yourself...
...When there is clearly none. The despair of not having a known trajectory. I know my limits, I know my strengths, I know my weakness, but I don't know my goal. Is there really none? Then there is no point in asking "To be or not to be?". The answers is obvious, it's not to be. But I don't want to die just to find out the answer. I'd like to convince myself that would be a waste, but it won't. Like most people, I'm just afraid of the unknown. The great unknown that is both life and death. 

XI

"All alone. The last one standing is only left with time to think. The memories I can't recall even if I wanted to forget them. That unresolved thing inside my mind refuses to sit still. What is it? What is this thing inside of me? Even if I knew, what good would it do me now? Now, when there's no one left."

I have too much time on my hands that I do nothing with and end up wishing for more, just so I can waste it.

I don't get it, (after filling a glass of water) I can balance it perfectly and walk. The human body is a perfect machine. This isn't just 4000 years of auto improving biotechnical engineering. It's something we keep trying to reproduce but can't. The moment that we are able to is harrowing to think about. And we somehow managed to make something mundane out of it. We are stuck in the mediocrity of a predetermined life we let ourselves fall into. Instead of heading further toward our perfect initial status, we strive away towards the little things. As a whole race. We are constraining our possibilities. We indirectly and collectively choose to be weak and dumb.

Why? How? 

If this thing (pointing at brain) can be an amazing calculating machine in some, then why not in all? Same with these things and these things, and this things (pointing at legs, arms and lungs). A perfect auto regulating system, out of which every element is both battery and energy production station. If it can regenerate as much as it does, then why is immortality not achievable? Why are our nervous cells irreplaceable? It must be a failsafe. If we had reproduction and immortality we would overpopulate and choke each other. If we only had immortality regarding natural causes of death and not fatal injury  then we would slowly die out. Out of all the possible combinations, the one we have is the most plausible. But we could be so much better if evolution was consciously influentable. We could better ourselves to the point of intellectual perfection. It's all hidden in something that is smaller than what I can comprehend. Genes, DNA. The string of our life also holds the secrets to improvement.

But such small attention is paid to something this big, because we are busy with insignificant things. Run off the mill.

A perfectly naturally engineered machine built with no known purpose only to make out of it a petty purpose of small intention, short duration life-span, and meaningless existence. Strings of atoms held together by swapping electrons therefore creating magnetical attraction due to opposed charges. The way they are arranged makes them stick to other such chains and dictate the way protein is synthesized. The building blocks are created and arranged out on such a simple design. Understanding how this complex system works is beyond me, but I do understand it hasn't materialized for such a simple task as just living. An unsolved mystery for the pile. 

X

In a random rush 5 minutes after I sat down, someone patted my shoulder and pulled me off my bus seat so that some old woman could stay in it. And I just went along without thinking. Probably because I need to grow a pair, because the bitch who did this sat her 40 cm tall baby on the seat next to her like she couldn’t just hold him in her arms to free a seat. I hate small children and the elderly, and I always did. I do realize I was small and I will eventually grow old, but  when I was small I wasn’t a spazzy noisy spoiled piece of shit, and I won’t smell like shit and litter the streets walking slowly and getting in everyone’s way when I’ll be old. I need to grow some balls and actually say what I think.

‘Life’s too short to complicate’? No, it isn’t. To say something like that you have to have a weak notion of time, because life is the longest thing you get to actually do. Just saying, I know it’s a metaphor. But it’s not like because I don’t go out as much I don’t live my life. The only case in which you aren’t living is when you’re not. I mean being dead, of course. I do like getting drunk and dancing and all that crap, just not every Friday night. I just like a quiet evening, a beer, a talk, the good stuff.

‘A gentleman will walk but never run’. Some people are the right people at the wrong time, some the wrong people at the right time. Sometimes I feel like the wrong person at the wrong time. If I were to chose a place to be born, as stereotypical as it is,  I’d chose either Victorian England or 70’s England. I know the conditions aren’t as great, but I just like those cultural ages. I’d probably change my ideas if I’d have actually lived in those times, but then again it’s the human condition: always displeased with the things you have. If it’s winter it’s too cold, if it’s summer, too hot. If you’re rich you’re unhappy, if you’re poor you’re struggling to survive. I’ve talked about this before, but extremes are always bad. Also depriving yourself of something and giving it back after a while brings happiness. We should alternate our lifestyles to be happier, maybe. Maybe. Mayb’.