I like to keep my self Isolated. I sit here, in my head, and think about things. I hate thinking about things.
Theres a point in a mans life, where he is just dead. Not the clinical dead, the sort that requires graves and legal paperwork, weeping mothers and angry brothers.
No, the sort of dead, no one sees.
The human brain fires neurons back and forth, sending bits and bytes of data, faster then any machine. The very point of perspective, its hardwired in the human operating system, we live, we die, and we procreate, all predetermined systems in the bios.
The idea that the human mind is like that of a circuit, it runs on engery, electical implusles and connects to a network, its the only truth to me. Its the only thing one can see. What is the meaning of life? Why am I alive?
As I write this, I sit here filled with self loathing. That for which I am. That for which I am not, that for which I can not, nor will ever be.
Is it wrong to question my self? I asked my self, looking into the glowing screen, the black text bluring into a grey, the white showing off all the filth on the screen.
Its kinda like my soul, isnt it?
White...but covered in filth.
Clean...yet stained...
I'v concidered ways to clean it. I'v though about Ketamine and LSD. I'v Thought about suiside. I think alot about it. Idk why. I'm not the kinda person who would kill him self. I just wish I was.
I hate my self, I hate being my self. I have rendered my self a mixed complexity, an rebooted ego that lives as a shell, smiling and looking nice, when in side the clam has died, its peral ripped out, stolen, acutioned, and then sold to the highest bidder.
I realise I think in tangensts. People ask me why I have a hard time figuring out what to say to explain my thought patter. I some times suffice to say, that I don't think in english. This tends to shut most poeple out on the topic. Then some people force me to talk about it. These people hurt. Both me. And them selfs.
I some times think of my mind as a river of nitric acid, flowing over the world...consuming, decomposing.
I some times think I really am insane. I look from my front door at the fence. I notice the irregulaties in existance. I used to love stairing at that fence, Then I realised that maybe It was in my head. There was no irregulatiries.
So I chugged an entire thing of lemon extract.
I wasn't trying to sufficate. But I did. I'd later figure out that lemon, which contains citric acid, when mixed with 70% alchohal in a cooking solution, causes the air pathages to close. Its a lot diffrent when you acidentally almost kill your self.
When you really try to, its difrent, you get nervice, you fall off the bridge, and then swim back to shore. you forget to tie that rope, but you don't know this when your jumping.
But, when you almost die, and its an acident, your not prepaired for it.
the point of it was to get drunk, not to cause my self to be unable to breath.
Needless to say, life flashed before my eyes.
Its like I was blind, but then I saw....every thing....And how empty every thing is..
Least no one knows who I am...Or was....