XXIII

        I wish to write thousands upon thousands of words to paint hundreds upon hundreds of pictures, but I adhere to the phrase "quality over quantity" if only in principle. How many things have I to say that I've not yet spoken of? I dread the moment I start repeating myself. It escapes my memory whether I have mentioned or not before of my resent for fools that claim as theirs the achievement of others. "Look how much we've built, how high we reached". We? We, my good friend, have no participation into said heights and claiming to do so is just a further example of our own ignorance. It is no longer a claim over nationality or vicinity, but a claim over humanity as a whole. Why do these buffoons feel the need to justify their petty existence by associating with things that are largely viewed as great? It is because they are unable to do anything of their own, one would be lead to think.
       I really do love seeing my pursuit of knowledge being fulfilled ever since I had the pleasure of picking it up. It's not everyday that I learn or figure something, but every so often when I do it does bring me satisfaction. Thought my knowledge and experience might be limited, I do hope that what I stumble upon is the truth, and even if that is not the case, thought my opinion matters most to me, I am able to change it provided better solid reasoning is provided. I know and accept that I am subject to the flaws I criticize, that including being wrong. But it's not that which I dislike, but rather the denial of compelling proof that irks me.
     Though I am not fond of extremes, there are some in which my mind would rather I fall into. One of these is my view on life. Were it my way, I would either cease to exist or gain immortal life. Immortality offers the possibility to forever continue my quest for truth which has become so important to me, as well as ceaseless entertainment. Lack of existence brings peace to my thoughts, though I can not be sure how it would "be". I do not wish to be subjected to physical pain, hunger and all other things concerning mortality, defects of the mind are much more pleasant.
      I do not know if it's hasty to make this statement, but it would seem honesty and honour are also becoming fictional concepts. Further thought proves that they always were, part of the illusion of greatness we attribute the human mind to. Vile, greedy, disgusting and stupid are concepts which define it rather better than qualities. Qualities of the mind, come to think of it, are compensation for lack of physical ones. It almost seems an artificial process of developing them to spite nature, but at the same time it has to be natural, right?
       I am already tired of mentioning each time that all I say must be taken in relative terms, but it is how it is. Whether it is my limited experience or the sheer amount of different possibilities that human mentality has at it's disposal, I cannot say that everything is available for everyone. Even my most prized remark, "everyone is stupid" could be knocked as relative. It just hasn't yet.
      Disposability. It is amazing how actually disposable to your life people are and how much we act as if they're not. It's another leftover mechanism. In hunter-gathering times, tribes or packs of humans were present in limited numbers and spread out. Thus, if you couldn't make friends with who you had close then you would be in a great amount of trouble, and had little chance of surviving. Care for close individuals is a mechanism to keep the pack together, but look at us. There are so many of us with numerous similar copies of each-other existing. You are free to mess up social relationships as many times as you want, you probably will never actually mess up 7 billion times.

XXI

          I find myself utterly despicable. Pathetic, lazy, unproductive, silly and many more. It seems that insults just lose meaning when you throw them at yourself don't they? It seems they do have a greater impact when somebody else tells it to you. By insults I guess I mean truths, really. I'm a pretty shy guy, socially awkward even. So whenever I am just walking around and get these long weird gazes at me I start feeling insecure. I sometimes wish I could tell what people are thinking, you know, read their minds so I can tell whether they're judging me properly or not. I know I am ugly and weird to the first sight, but damn, I didn't think it was really that bad. Or maybe that's just how people are? They just stare around a bunch and observe other people out of curiosity? I do that too. The most I tend to see is that they usually size you up, especially stopping at the shoes. Are we seriously shallow enough to judge people by the brand of shoes they wear or am I just drawing  a hasty conclusion?
          I don't want to stand out but I'd never cut my hear short and wear whatever is "fashionable" because it just seems like a load of sparkly flamboyant shit to me. Nobody considers clothes actually being useful, and it just seems to be made to draw attention. After all, that is what fashion has become, a cry for attention. But if they're all screaming for attention at each other, who's gonna stop and give it to them? And on the note of usefulness, weren't clothes developed with the idea of protection? As in warm in the winter, cold in the summer, whatever in-between? With this in mid, the other day I see some girl wearing considerably long fur boots. And it's 35 C outside. A bunch of crazy people I tell you. Whatever happened to respectable men wearing watches and glasses as useful accessories? Now every guy I see is just wearing a bazillion bracelets, earrings, random metal on their face. What the hell man? Fuck.
          I just wear some simple shirt, some simple pants, decent shoes good for both running and walking and maybe, sometimes, a watch. My hair just feels good and natural to be long, and I've had a respect for older cultures like the Norse one in which some men had long hair.
           And that's where my creative juice stops flowing.

Spilling some soul, my bad.

Why do I get sad? Because life keeps dangling happiness in front of me, carrot on a stick style. I think this is actually what motivates some people, because they can't see the string or the stick and don't realise they'll never catch up with it.
Why do I get sad? Because I've grown accustomed to it. It's what I am. I am sorrowful angry and hateful person. It's what I've become and I can't care enough to change because no matter how sad you get it never hurts you physically. So there's never a reason to stop being sad other than the fact that it's unpleasant.
Why do I get sad? Because I've very little and spread out reasons to be happy. I could be happy, I could bury the sorrow away, but it would be a part of me that I am burying and forgetting. And feelings without a reason are as empty as it can get.
Why do I get sad? Because I am selfish and want everything to be good. Because it's rare for things to happen the way I want them to and my wish extends over to forces and beings I have no control over. Being selfish makes you believe you are entitled to be happy.
Why do I get sad? Because I see things that are wrong which I can't fix. I notice mistakes made in large scale, hypocrisy, deception, delusion and lies that, in the view of a honest man, have no reason to be part of the world. Sincerity is losing the battle to greed.
Why do I get sad? Because I let that feeling linger. I live with it, and sometimes, to be honest, it feels good to feel sad. Specifically, when it's the only feeling I can feel justified, and the only feeling I have under my comfort blanket.
Why do I get sad? Because despite all the armour I've built for myself, you can never wear something protective enough. There's always a little slit somewhere where someone can just stick their knife in. And blood rusts armour.It's because I'm proven time and time again I am still weak enough to depend on other people and dumb enough to get attached.
Why do I get sad? Because I am lonely and we are hard wired to feel sad alongside being lonely. And I am lonely because of a plethora of reasons. I am not attractive. I am not social. I am not creative. I am not likeable. The only times I can be funny is when I reference somebody else's joke or emulate some funny behaviour. And in reality, the only kind of person that would like me would either have to lie to themselves or just be the same. And -1+ (-1) =! 2.
Why do I get sad? Because I believe in concepts that only exist in fiction. Because I've been convinced to believe in concepts such as true love and honour.
Why do I get sad? Because I am a useless, broken, talentless, purposeless, deluded, dumb, pathetic, weak piece of shit.
Addendum : I never said I didn't want to be sad, but I never said I didn't want to be happy. And I'm guessing being happy is better. I don't know.

Deep meaningful meaningless meaning full of shit shit

I lack the mental capabilities to give everything up for the sake of an ideal. That's me, weak and afraid. But we all ar- why do I look so much for way to justify myself instead of accepting it? I'm afraid of having imperfections such as these and seek to rid myself idealistically of them. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking I can't do anything about it. Maybe I am right. I don't even know. I even try to justify suicidal tendencies with the realization that life is pointless instead of my own weakness and fear and I try to justify not doing it by thinking it would be a waste and it's the cowards way. It seems that both doing it and not doing it are the coward's way though. What do you do when you get to a state where feeling good becomes a reason to feel bad and when you have to distract your thinking side by doing something that takes you away if only for a couple of minutes. A song, a movie, a videogame, sleep. It seems whenever I catch myself thinking of something and not being distracted it's always something negative. When I realize it I also tell myself there is no reason to be positive. It’s true, there is really no reason to be happy. But is that enough a reason to be sad? No. The real question is why do have emotions? The basic feelings of pain, sights, senses etc. are there for the reason of survival, discernment between thing that are good for you and things that are not, and yet happiness and sadness seem to be disposable. Happiness comes as a reward for doing something beneficial to you, sadness from depriving yourself of that. Therefore a thinking man can never be happy, for he sacrifices need for curiosity. Or is it that I am generalizing and you can truly be happy and philosophical? A thinking man should realize at some point that if he truly want to be different from animals, ergo superior, he must free himself from instincts, a fact contradicting his survival. The real deduction is that intellectualism and rationality have no place in a living creature. Outside the knowledge of its food, its predators and its environment, an animal has no need for further information. The rest is provided by instinct and genetics. So then, what role does knowledge of his ancestor’s actions, of art and literature and so forth provide? Entertainment. But this again has no benefit to it in the long run. Unless entertainment is truly the meaning of life. Are animals other than human capable of entertainment? It’s not something my knowledge can answer surely, but I think that they are, to some extent (see: dogs playing fetch) . And yet all the entertaining actions I can think of that animals do seem to be influenced or even started by man. Dissecting the meaning of life is something that leads to nowhere. Why do plants exist? So herbivores can feed, so oxygen can be produced, etc. It’s either a circular answer or no answer at all. What benefit comes to me for pondering all of this? Certainty? Am I scared of the unknown that I really need to know the truth? Maybe at the moment, maybe subconsciously.

On the point of the subconscious, it is starting to feel like I am made up of two parts. A sentient rational and logical parasite inhabiting an instinct driven mammal that the parasite calls a human. The brain named itself? What is the purpose of language when other animals can make do without it? Why must it all be so fucking complex that I lose hours thinking of it.  Still, all of this actually offers me a bit of satisfaction, especially the feeling of being right and seeing (what I believe is right) that many others do not see.

I’m using English so much I’ve begun to stutter in the use of my own language. I am becoming a pathetic piece of shit. The lowest scum. Or have I always been one? That from the standards of the average person, and since majority speaks, probably the right standards to consider. I have no wish to articulate my thoughts other than one syllable words to others, depicting just my needs, but someone can’t function like that in a highly sociable race such as ours. A highly sociable race that keeps making itself pseudo-social. Where are we even heading, backwards or forwards? Maybe both directions at the same time, maybe sideways. This is the point where I become aware of my hate for my race and start acting violently. Then I realize my hate is towards hypocrisy and play-pretend but also see that I am blamable of the same things. I am also instinct driven no matter how much I’d like not to be. I am a sad person and the fact that I am sad makes me sadder.

What is insanity? It’s natural selection, but as I believe I have said before here, natural selection no longer works in the human society, and maybe even other species in the proximity of  u- Oh god damn it shut up. Shut up and get out of my head. Let me just sleep the eternal slumber, kill me once and rid me of all this for I am too much of a coward to do it myself…yet. Fuck. Everything is either boring or aggravating and I am getting sick of everything and overflowing with hate, anger fear and disgust. I really want to go away and take everyone, no everything with me. I want the world, no the universe to come to an end because it is all illogical and purposeless. It all pisses me off to no end and I utterly helpless in this mater. If I could only do something to hasten its demise, I would, but I am so…so helpless. And the sky is so damn beautiful today.

"I am tired of you fucking vegans thinking you are the shit that is good. I am fucking anoyed by the military fags crying about how they lost a leg or a nerve while they killed other people. I am tired that i am the prince of bel-air. Shit i am tired of you. I am tired of those suicide faggots, just do it already. I am tired of those religious fucks who send their soldiers to poison the mind of actual thinkers. I fucking hate money. I hate to see these animal humans lusting for bullshit they obviously do not need. I am so tired that my bones dont care to get up in the morning. I am so tired that a painkiller worsens the pain. I am so tired that i fucking hate myself for putting up with all this shit. I am selfish for thinking that this even matters. I don't even know what. My point is, next time you see me... ill be far in space."

Yeah, kinda like that, but with more blowing everything up -before- going to space.