implode

It's that time again... That time... That time of the many intervals in my life where I suddenly forget that some questions deserve answers but that doesn't mean it's important; like the meaning to life which goes without question isn't as important as the life itself; because having that life satisfies that meaning, otherwise why would that life be had?

So, the million-dollar question: Remove yourself from all sensation, all the duties and responsibilities of day-to-day life... Now imagine you were a ball of pure light consisting only of those thoughts most important to you. What are those thoughts?

I mean, it's an easy enough question. You remove the distractions of sight, smell, taste, touch, whatever have you; you remove the need to eat and shit and interact with things, you focus on what's most important to you and voila, you have your answer; but what if what's left is a ball of pure darkness rather than a ball of pure light? No, not a ball of pure darkness, but rather, a ball of vacuum, surrounded by a vacuum, surrounded by more vacuum; where matter and anti-matter have combined to create a nothingness so profound, you cannot even call it a vacuum. What if all that's left in the centerpiece of your most important and valuable thoughts is nothingness? What then? What if you have nothing important or valuable in your own mind? What if you could not think of a single thing on this Earth that you would give your life for? What if you lost anything and everything, but wait, you realize you didn't even really give much of a fuck about all that crap anyway? What if you had nothing except distractions in your life? If you were a lost soul with nothing? If your life was empty in the beginning, empty now and may forever be empty?

I'm not afraid of dying. It would be stupid to fear such. After all, it's inevitable anyway. What does scare me a little bit is living this life and losing it with nary a thought in my head for which I held dear...

for that which is small and quite nothing

There is a portion of my mind that may forever be alone, that which is not pleasant but is necessary... Why is it necessary? I don't really know. Why do I deem it necessary? Sometimes, I question myself and realize I don't make any sense. It should be right, then, to discard of such stupid ideas, should it not? So I do and I correct myself.

There is a portion of my mind that is alone right now in its little corner that whispers evil things; it is not pleasant nor necessary but it persists like a parasite, unwilling to go away just because I tell it to, rather preferring to taunt me for being weak and small and meaningless and nothing. There is a struggle for me to grasp at this thing, for I understand that I feel that way, and I have an idea of why, but I can't really catch it. It is a thought, floating in my head, floating and fleeting, that everytime I try to catch it, it flows through my metaphorical fingers. The idea that one can be so small, that life can be so cheap, the idea that the cogs of this civilization run on no matter how utterly fucked up any single individual is, that the system itself permits this and churns out losers every single day... is baffling and beyond my comprehension. Is it really important at all? Maybe not; but when you imagine burning a fire in an enclosed room to which end seems quite self-important that you should be worth a ceremony that bears the last honor (or otherwise) that a person may or may not deservedly receive, you kinda have to think about why you shouldn't.

So, there is nothing to say that just because you tried that you will find the answer. I'm sure a million people before me have tried to figure out just what it is that makes any single life more or less valuable than the rest, finding answers that are not really answers, finding reasons that are not really reasons, finding truths that are not actually truths... And a million people will follow after me and, possibly, tens of billions more after me if this pathetic existence is able to sustain itself before blowing itself out like the metaphorical candle. So yes, I did not find the answer, and yes, I may be quite dense, and yes, I may have something wrong right up there in the brains; which begs the question: What now?

I don't know.

that which is not known

I look at your name and freeze; that you don't know it makes no difference, I freeze all the same. In this frame in my life where nothing moves and everything is a malleable but constant force, where I have control over anything and everything but don't quite need it, where in my own little way, I am the god; you would think that the inherent peace in this place would be more far-reaching than you. Apparently not, though, because that image of your name is burned deep into my mind as my fingers stop moving; knowing that you don't know makes it easier to manage, but not by much; or it really doesn't and I'm fooling myself, that perhaps it's not easier but harder, but for the lack of available data processing in my head, that cannot hit me in the way that it should. And perhaps it's the day where I should choose to tell you or let it go, but even that I cannot muster in myself, because every time I see your name, it elicits the same response, that I cannot do either.

What, then, is it about you that even your name gets to me, that which is awesome and scary at the same time, which makes me feel alive, but not in a good way, because to die, you must know that you once had life, for that which you do not have cannot be taken away, even if it is just thought because not every man knows that he is alive and not every man thereafter knows that he has died; and that to the extent of that, there exists a part of me that wants to say something but cannot because it makes no sense, and while everything has a positive intention, I cannot quite find that in the moment of telling you, so I don't, but really, why, then, do I keep thinking about it, finding the excuses that are not there, and ultimately just being a complete and utter fuckup?

Perhaps, today, I will make my choice and stick to it, because I can hold this moment for so much longer - the meaning of which takes precedence way more than it should, that this hurt should be my pleasure, that hope is there though ever in the slightest that I should hold onto it dearly - but it's really not worth it and I know that, because for as long as I am an idiot trapped in my own trap, stuck in my own warped mind that has failed to see that it has far passed its boundaries that it has no idea were ever there, that it will continue to rot away to a state that it can live within rather than simultaneously combusting to reveal a new thing not entirely familiar to me.

for that which has no rewind

I wish I knew how to make things work. It seems, instead, like everything I go into, I really have no control over. If I could let it go, I would, but right now, I'm just too far in it to forget it. So I'm thinking that if I just do one stupid thing... That's excusable, right? It'll only be the one... Who am I kidding? Of course it's not excusable... That's the only one stupid thing I need to do to crash and burn. So, really, what do I do instead? Mope around until this feeling goes away? God knows that won't take long. But is that really the point? Is it really the point that if it'll go away fast that it's OK to just... let it go? I rarely wonder if I'm making the right choice. It's usually that I just pick one and run right at it until the wall breaks. Well, rarely; I'm beginning to think that this may be one of those choices I might regret for a long long time. Especially if I don't say anything. If I do, at least I know. But then again, is that knowledge really worth breaking a good bond? I don't know, so either way, I may regret after all.

So what now? I've been told, "At the end of the day, whatever you do, it's gonna be stupid anyway." And sure, that's true, but that really doesn't help me. Between two stupid things to do; who do I want to hurt more? Us, me or her?

as to the big things that look little, because there was the titanic, and there were the lives on it

There is a heaviness which I cannot explain, an anchor in my face that drags me against the earth, that makes me feel pathetic and weak and stupid and slow, nothing that I enjoy but something I must endure, because if that's all I can take, then what of life and the years ahead?

There is a path somewhere, in fact, everywhere, paths in front of me, paths all around, they really lead to the same place, but the point is that they're different paths, with different experiences and different everythings. They make me think about the choices I make and the stupidity inherent, they make me wonder and ponder and deliberate and think, but really, what do those paths matter if not for the little things in life you hold dear? Because if everything is constant and nothing is assumed, there would be great balance in the world, but what of such a boring place would you like? So, to choose something that matters to you, is it important? Because, really,  what I want right now is to be able to enjoy the things that I think are important, because feeling alive isn't about exhiliration, it isn't about money and infinite time, it isn't about finding the meaning in life, it's about putting meaning into your meaningless life.

So why is it that I question? That right now is here makes the past so much less important, but the past is really what defines you so, after all, it's important, but not in a way that should bother you. And so what if you didn't know? To actually know, that's gold, but sometimes, it doesn't matter as much as you think it does and that, my friend, is really what you should place in your mind.

crossroads with a reset button = convenient

Just right then, I had an epiphany. All my human instincts told me to blow off some steam but really, that's not what I wanted at all. A friend, which I just recently thought of as close, told me, "It's OK to be alone," and I totally agree with that. Then again, how true is a fact that you have to keep reminding yourself? As Kelly Clarkson said, "Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone." Do I agree? Do i disagree? Let's just put it this way: A person has as much control over his emotions as he can hold constant in his mind. If you're alone and you tell yourself, "I'm not lonely," truely and surely, you will not feel alone. It's tried and tested, a personal experience and belief; although, I have to concur that not all minds work alike; so just think about it for a second, "Are you as lonely as you feel or as lonely as you allow your mind to think?" If you have to keep reminding yourself, consciously, that you are not lonely, are you really not lonely? It's thoughts like these that make me doubt myself, but stimulating my own mind has always been fun, especially when the stimulation is of a personal interest.

Perhaps... I don't mind thinking about it, but questions that don't really have an answer are scary. They are few and far between, surely, but they're always scary; and why shouldn't they be? A diver looks into chasms of water, so deep and dark that they cannot see anything but blackness beneath them, that some even go into panic. Do you blame them? The unknown is scary. Granted, you have to want to know the answer enough. You have to imagine the possibilities and play them out in your mind, conjure the rainbows and butterflies but also the blackholes and the infinite negative possibilities. Maybe it isn't scary for everyone, but they scare me so there.

So, really, what is the point I'm trying to make? On the one hand, I want to do something but on the other... I really don't. Is that the point? Kind of but not really. The point is, I am lonely, and it's OK. Shouldn't it be? If it should, why do I misdirect my emotions to feel better? Why do I tell myself I'm not lonely when I am instead of embracing it as just what I am? At this point, I'm just contradicting myself, saying things I only half mean. Crossroads; I'll go with one option and see how that goes.

that which is a lot but not enough

"I deserve a lot but she deserves more," that which runs through my mind and haunts me; because I am such a small person that I cannot get past the barrier of this inferiority complex. It plagues me. It really does. Why though? Will a girl who is more superior in intellect judge a man by his achievements? Huh... The logical sequence in my head implies otherwise. Either way, Hansern, you are a huge fuck. What are you doing?

hm...

The days that confine us, so long yet so short, we fool ourselves into thinking that they mark the days, but really, aren't the seconds that count? Because each of us have our lives, but every second, lives are lost; accidental, predicted, unpredicted, how do we know when it ends? So which seconds are the ones that count? Foolishness it is to try to decide, for where does it lie a second which does not? Every second, we are being formed, we are growing, we are becoming more than life, more than moving cells, because thoughts; thoughts are not alive but I'd be damned if they didn't mean at least as much as life.

the what ifs that bind me

Then again, what are you? Once so simple in my thoughts that if we could be great friends, that would be the world to me now seems like the workings of a childish mind; for, sure, you are an amazing friend and, yes, you do give me the companionship that lifts me up and grounds me all at the same time; but is that friendship or is that just you? So we walk forwards from this point and I wonder, just because I can, just because my mind entertains the possibility of something amazing and awesome, what it would be like if I stopped using what ifs.

So, if only you could read minds, which I actually think you might be able, what would you do? Do we stand here and wait, or move forward, or do you just stop me and go forward alone? It's hard to say what you'd do. Then again, that's probably one of the reasons you're so special. What would I do with a person whose mind I can read? How absolutely boring would that be?

So, I thread lightly, not wanting to break the metaphorical ice; but what if that's a stupid thing to do? What if I should just put it behind me because that's really all there is to it? What if I should just speak my mind? These what ifs that glue me to this spot... Frustration.

so you think you can complain?

At one point or another, a person exhausts his ways to complain about life. Maybe after all that complaining, he should realise that it's all just futile and meaningless anyway. That's what one would think; I mean, how many ways are there, right? Then again, just every once in awhile, he'll find a new way to complain about life and you just have to wonder, is there really a limit to how much a person can complain? You tell me because I haven't yet found said limit.

So, tonight, what is it about you that's got me feeling under? Are you just an asshole? If you had guts, I would break all hell loose on them, even if it took me my last breath, even if it wouldn't hurt you. You know why? It's because you're an asshole and I hate your guts. You see what I did there? I hate your guts therefore I hurt your... Never mind.

Sometimes, I think the world is out to get me, then I remember it doesn't give a fuck and in actuality, I'm out to get myself through my own unfortunate brain which hails all thoughts that are stupid and numb and tired and old; then I ask life why I was given such a useless brain when I could be stupid and ignorant as fuck and drown in the bliss that it supposedly entails. All I get is this murmur; you know, the kind that floats into your ears every time there is complete silence which grows into a wailing screech from the echoes of said silence. Basically, I get nothing so if you like anti-climaxes, well, there you go. Happy birthday, mother fucker.

Who created sad? Bitch should be shot to death. Someone somewhere just decided that depression was a clinical diagnosis and people just went with it. Well, fuck that guy. Who cares if we're sad? You don't get to diagnose us with that shit. If you didn't, we'd have thought we were possessed or haunted or something. At least we wouldn't just be sad. We would be possessed and at least that would be cool... or not; it really doesn't matter as long as you weren't sad; so fuck that dude.

You know what? Fuck this shit, I'm done.

just a little more than you asked for

Some nights last too long. You don't really know why but it haunts you. So, what eats you, child? So young and so stupid, you think you know it all but you don't really. Is that what eats you? Is that why you cower behind yourself? You don't know anything and that scares you. You don't have to hide it but you do. Why?

So here you go, this is a piece of yourself that you will forever remember. One day in the future, you will get out of bed and remember that you were once even more stupid than you are then. Does it make you proud that you've grown? It shouldn't. You are worthless scum, a nobody with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Sadly, that might be what you will always amount to. Hell, you know it. That's why you want it to end. It won't though.

Your existence is useless and you will forever be stepped on. You are the dirt beneath all the shoes in the world and if anybody has anything to say about it and, yes, they do, that's where you'll be until your last breath. You are the dirt people wash off their hands and the grime people wipe off their boots. You are nothing but a lousy good-for-nothing insect.

So there you go, one more night that lasted too long has come and reminded you your place on this planet. Don't you forget it, boy, because you never deserved life.

the time of day

It's funny how time can pass so quickly and feel like an eternity all at once. Look once, it's two, look again, it's five thirty-six in the morning. All this while, though, all I can think of is how time moves so slowly while it erodes me. Was I always this weak? Possibly. But it never occured to me to show it. And why would I? Sounds like a dumb thing to do, no matter how you look at it.

This life, it tires me. I woke up today, and I sluggishly carried myself through the day, and yesterday was a disaster, the fool that is me lived through it and he does not know why. This life, it really tires me. It tires me right down to my bones and I can feel it coming, the wave of boredom and meaninglessness that will one day drive me insane. So tired and so bored and so wasted on this stupid life. This is just unadulterated bullshit.

bring me the lamb, peasant

Bring me the lamb. I shall kill it.

It worries me that I am slightly amused by that statement.

so here's to tonight

So, here's to tonight, one more night I feel like going to sleep and never waking up, one more night which could last forever but won't just to taunt me, one more night that'll see the day because life goes on whether or not you want it to, because deep inside some of us, there is a little part that must die tonight so we can wake up in the morning to start living life like tonight never happened.

Here's to tonight; because some won't make it through the night, that they have the strength to not get up, kudos to them, but if you think they're stupid, maybe you are because not everyone wants to see the morning as much as you do, and I'm sorry if you're offended but I'm just saying it like it is.

Here's to tonight, that it will only last so long is a pity because I need more hours in the day to right the wrongs I've committed, and I need more time to organize my thoughts which are never straight, and the destinations in my head seem so far away and maybe if the night would last longer, maybe I could get there, but I won't, not tonight.

Here's to the time between night and morning, that it takes the effort to separate my two days which are indistinguishable, I am grateful, because tonight I had thoughts and feelings and awareness that are not commensurate with my person; thoughts, feelings and awareness that I wish I didn't have, that this time tries to make me believe in more, I am grateful, because not all things are worth the fight, but some deserve better.

Here's to the morning, because everything is better in the morning, when you've had time to arrange your thoughts; and maybe they're right, maybe time does heal the wounds, maybe, if not today, it will be better tomorrow, or the day after, or the week after, or the year after, or the decade after, but if not, then so be it, at least I know I tried to work, though I am a broken thing, at least I tried to function.

Here's to the afternoon, which knows that you have got shit to do and helps you to not think, because, hey, there is shit to be done.

Here's to the evening, the detestable evening, because it knows you don't want to but it gives you time to gather your thoughts so you may be a better person tonight, although not likely, so that maybe you'll give tomorrow another chance.

And maybe, you'll end the evening, saying, "Here's to tonight, on a brighter note." Maybe.

i don't know when

There's something that's been eating at me for awhile now; and I don't know if I'll be able to actually say what I mean but I'm going to give it a shot.

What's the difference between a friend (would-be lover, just so I'm clear) and a lover? If I factor out the sex (which I've never had so excuse me if a lover without sex is just an unfair representation of a couple), then I find that I can enjoy the company of a friend just as much as a lover, maybe even more. You can miss a friend. If you're close enough, you could probably see them as often as you'd see a lover. You can have fun with a friend. Your friend would probably be less judgemental than a lover. Your friend expects less and enjoys you more. It's easier to maintain a friendship than a steady relationship. If you really wanted, it's not unheard of to take holidays with your friends. So why can't we stay friends and still have a blast?

I don't know when I started thinking of you; all I know is you're always on my mind these days.

I have a friend, very close, very significant in my life right now. I don't know what it is about her, but she's crazy; In a good way. Try to imagine. We've been really close for awhile now but it's only recently that I've been thinking, "Shit, how fun would it be to date her?" And so, I think and I think, and before I knew it, she wouldn't leave my mind. Every day, I want to see her. Every day, I think about her. Every day I don't see her, I think to myself, "Damn, what a wasted day." Every day I'm supposed to see her but I don't, I'm just like, "Do I really want to go out?" But, well, that's fine; after all, we're only just friends. And I think that if I had a handful of people like this, life would just be amazing. And I think, I've really never had this with any of my exes. And I think, "Hey, don't judge me, asshole." Well, that's all well and good but some things, you just don't get, you know what I mean?

So I'm here thinking, how many friends like these do I need before I can get a girlfriend like this? I mean, do I really want to destroy one of the very few amazing friendships that I have? To begin with, would I be destroying the friendship by wanting more than friendship? Well, I don't know. But it doesn't really make sense to throw something so amazing out the window, right? Then again, when can I actually do that? Do I need five amazing friends before I can say, "Hey, let's be more than friends. No? Well, I guess we should see less of each other before I'm comfortable being in your company again." And then there was four. And when there are five again, do I go, "Hey, let's be more than friends. No? Well, fine, but I think we need some distance so I won't be seeing your for awhile." Life confuses me...

So, when do you decide to go for it? Because I would really miss her as a friend if we weren't as close as before I fucked it over. What do I get if we become more than friends? Would it be worth putting the friendship on the line? Well, I don't know. All I know is that I've been suppressing a stupid urge to go for it, knowing, well, that it's stupid.

just another day

The days where I find solace in my being are growing fewer and further between; a circumstance I did not think possible. Then again, they say nothing is impossible. I guess that's not always a good thing. The stupid thing is I don't even know why anymore. I used to know; now it's just a jumble of shit and I'm caught right smack in the middle trying to waddle my way out of tonnes upon tonnes of crap. Maybe I'm just bored, though I don't think that's the problem; or maybe I'm just tired. Tired seems plausible, actually. You know those days where you wish you could go to sleep and never wake up? Life, right?

I think of myself as a very simple person. I don't ask for much. It's not that I keep quiet about things that I want; I just genuinely don't want much. Did anyone ever tell you that contentment is good? They told me that crap too. I don't think it's true. Don't ever look for contentment. When you stop striving, you drown in your own stupid thoughts. It's not healthy. Self reflection is bullshit. People who are upset do things to make themselves feel productive. Guess why. Here's a hint: thinking about life is a mother ______.

Did you know that your mind pays attention only to things that interest you? It's because your senses are so overwhelming that if your mind processes every single detail it is given, it would overload. Guess what I pay attention to. Nevermind, I'll tell you: more or less, nothing. That's how much I care. You must be bored of hearing that by now. It's a recurring theme here though. Sorry.

Bye

of ropes and tight, intricate knots

I'm so bored. What are we waiting for? You tell me it's coming. I don't believe you. You tell me again that it's coming, you insist. It's been decades, my friend. It's not coming. You can take my word for it. "That's not enough," you say. If it comes when we're gone, you can take my life for it. You don't want to believe me, but you have a feeling it's true. It is.

We sit down and wait. "Just for a little while more. I'm tired. I can't wait much longer," I say. You don't want to give up but it's becoming more and more apparent who's right between the two of us. Of course, all it would take to prove me wrong is a fell swoop. Then again, that fell swoop has been a long time coming.

"One day, when you've admitted how right I am, I'll remind you of this day, when you forced me to sit here, waiting for something so vague and uncertain." You laugh and it was meant to be a joke but only partially. We're both tired. I know you are and I've made it completely clear that I am. Yet, we wait. It's a completely rational wait, but it doesn't stop me from feeling stupid just waiting. You're starting to feel stupid too but you try to be optimistic. On some days, you wonder if it's time to get up and go but then you stop yourself. You don't know why you do that but I do. You're starting to wonder if there even is such a thing. You've seen it and I have too but we don't know what we've seen; not really, anyway.

"I'll sit for now but I'm not going to for very long. I'm just sayin."

the stupidest thing i've done

And Kim said, "That's how nice guys like you get fucked over." And I knew she was right. I knew. But the deed is done and, really, I don't regret it. I'm not saying it wasn't stupid as fuck, but I don't regret it. I probably should. That's the most extravagant I've been in a long time; a very long time. See, in that one day, I spent 495 bucks. It goes to reason that I didn't spend most of it on myself. Why else would it be a problem? On a good day, I can go on to say that I didn't spend a single cent. Of course, everybody has days like that, where they just want to shut themselves indoors, maybe kick back in a comfortable sofa, beanbag, whatever have you, and kick some ass on their Xbox; but in all honesty, I can not spend a single cent for days on end. I am so damn thrifty, I drink water to hold back the gastritis and go home and eat like a bawse.

So now you're wondering what I did with 495. Suffice to say, I spent 30 on myself that day. Stupid of me? Maybe. Actually, definitely. I don't know what I was thinking but the remainder didn't seem like much at the time. It doesn't even seem like much now, actually, but the thing is that I'm not even dating this girl. I don't know, but I think most people - like 97.89% - of people would agree that it was the stupidest thing I could have done. They might be right. I don't usually do stupid things. This girl whom I'm not even dating, she has attention handed to her on silver platters. Imagine five silver platters in your face. Now imagine ten. Now imagine a thousand. That's what she has. Fuck that, I don't even care anymore. It took me 465 to realise what a right dumb cunt I've been. So be it. I guess Hansern and love doesn't go in the same sentence.

Fucking off now, K, bye.

For as Long as I've known

It is not known when and why it came to be; all that is known is that it is, for who would question it? Certainly, something so small as a single life on this planet with an abundance of life should not matter much more than a speck of dust in a storage room long forgotten, long ignored and long untouched; and yet, the question and statement remains in this 'speck of dust', for however long it takes to gain consciousness of its surroundings, for however long it decides to live, that is how long it will have to take the punishment of life. All the same, who does he have to blame but himself? Who put him in such a position if not himself? It would seem stupid that such a small thing in this vast universe should be of any value at all, and, yet, we all put value into the meager existences we choose to sustain.

I am unsure how it came to be and why it came to be, but it is there, choosing to live another day, choosing to take the punishment it has so stupidly pushed upon itself, for who is he that he should have the outrageous desire to know the future? Yet, isn't it his future and should he not be granted that much? So let him pay for this desire, the stupid fool, let him pay for it with sweat and blood and deep dark emotions. Let him pay for it with his eyes and his ears and let him pay for it with the knowledge that yesterday was better than today and he should not have had the desire to know. Let him suffer as we punish his mortal mind and body and we shall throw him into the deepest pits of despair and drudgery. We cannot let him get away with such blatant disregard for that which is inevitable: death. And when will it be enough? When his foolish desires wane, when his hunger for knowledge has become far outweighed by the frailty of his mind. Only then will we let him stop paying because only then will we know that he has learnt his lesson.

I am unsure why and how I came to be but I am here, longing foolishly for that which is not mine, for but a sliver of positive emotion. For what seems like forever, I have been tormented by the great illusion that what sits just beyond my grasp is happiness, paying for it with sweat and blood and in the future, when I grow old, with my sight and hearing. I lay helpless as I try to chase that which is not meant to be only to come closer to the end of the road where I may fall and die. If I were to put it so poetically, I am running on a road, the sides of which fall far and deep. At the end of this road, there is a dead end; but if that reminds you of walls on three sides then you are mistaken because this dead end is merely another fall to the far and deep, for whichever way you choose to take, it all ends in that, 'far and deep'.

I give up. Fuck this shit. Life, you win.

There are just some days I wake up and I can't tell myself, "You're a winner, a fucking champ." Those days seem to be growing in number rapidly with the passing days. I feel myself becoming more and more of a drone, a mindless insect, a useless blob. That actually depresses me quite a bit. I don't even feel like writing it so fuck that, I'm going to sleep.

Just Hansern Moving On

One day, I'd like to know the meaning of life, the truth of the universe, the beauty of emotions, the sharp tinge of failure, the bittersweet of success, the awe in flavours, the power of insight, the exquisiteness of scenery. As my life goes, it doesn't look to be soon, but that's OK because I'll live to be two hundred years old anyway. Failing that, hey, death doesn't seem like such a bitch, anyway.

I want to take a minute to reflect on my life thus far; met some amazing people, made awesome friends, had myself a good time, there were bad times as well, boring times, exciting times, depressing times, done some good things, a lot of bad things, sustained some injuries, some days went without, heartbreak, happiness, I don't think I found anything anyone would call love so let's call them volatile emotions instead. At the end of the day, I'm still alive, well and kicking.

When I think about it, my life is pretty dull. Do I choose it to be so? Certainly not. Am I living in a way that would make it so? Why yes, yes, I think I do live in a way that would make it so. I decline invites, I forego activities, I stay at home, do the same things, I don't learn much everyday, I don't love many things but I don't hate them either. I think it's important to have a stand on everything. If you don't love it and you don't hate it, chances are, you've never tried it; unless you're prone to loving something you've never done or, even worse, hating it, then you're just being a hypocrite and/or an asshole.

We find that experience is an amazing thing; why? It broadens our minds, makes us less shallow, we find new things, we give up some things, we learn to enjoy others, and start to hate some, but we always come out on top because at the end of the day, we are all better people thanks to experience. Failing that, we are people that have advanced from what we were before and I feel it doesn't matter where you are from that point as long as you have advanced, good or bad, who is to decide? Certainly, not every bad thing is always bad and not every good thing is always good. Do we fuck our lives up by doing them? Maybe, but that's just how life works. Sometimes, you're good and awesome and you change the lives of the people around you in a good way; sometimes, you just fuck up, plain and simple, and you cause a lot of misery to everyone around you but, hey, life goes on.

Sometimes, you just have to live for yourself, it doesn't matter if you end up homeless, it doesn't matter if you end up dead, it doesn't even matter if you kill other people because let's face it, a dead homeless person feels the same way a dead rich person feels... Dead. Well, that was obvious. In fact, every dead person feels the same way... Dead. Am I a little bit of an advocate of death? I suppose so. To live life is a story; introduction, build up, climax, death. Well, in stories, people usually call it an ending or a closure, I suppose? Death works here though. We all live for death, after all. There is nothing you can't do, you have free will... except not die. You HAVE to die. You have to die, I have to die, everyone has to die.

That's that, signing out.

If We Just Think for a Minute

I am at a crossroad in my life. It's disappointing, disheartening, it feels like a good time for life to end; nothing is happening, nobody cares and things don't matter. If we continue in this direction, we find that this is what life is about. To say the least, "Life, ah life, thou art a heartless fiend." You take away our voices, slash away at our armour, our courage wanes, our prides dethroned, our perseverance can only last so long until our faces start to look weary, tear stains evident yet nobody seems to notice, our bodies weaken, our spirits crushed; our facades that let us look happy are only, after all, just facades.

We are the empty children of the mindless generation, our knowledge grows but our intelligence stands questionable; we see ourselves becoming more and more like ants, droning, struggling, striving, all at the beck and call of the queen, what we call the government and media. We no longer hold thoughts of our own, each and every one person brainwashed into wanting what they want to have, working for what they think they need, crumbling at what they believe is the stress they brought unto themselves which truly is just another titanic conspiracy, from advertisements to television, from movies to music, liking what they think they like, looking for what they think they want to find.

The more we want what we are made to want, the less we get of what we need. Probably?

If we are to find that we do not have what it takes to reach what we are looking to reach, then what is there left for us? We like the people that don't like us and dislike the people that like us, we are never quite satisfied with what we currently have. That only makes us human, to desire what we cannot have. We confuse ourselves between genders, saying the male knows not what the female wants, the female knows not what the male wants. In actuality, the male also does not know what the male wants  but we really just don't give a fuck.Why should we? We're not trying to sleep with each other; unless of course you are then, really, tell me if you understand the person you are trying to sleep with. While we stand as men, each person is individual to himself although likely to be similar to others because, hey, there are seven billion people out there. On the subject of females, well, for lack of a better standing in such a creed, I am held to not say a word about that.

Signing out.