I don’t have to be anyone.

The food didn’t taste like anything this morning. I didn’t want it. I finally gave up at trying to make it sweet and settled for bland. I ate as much as I could convince myself. I want to be Raymond. I want Tyler to put a gun to my head and see if the next morning I have the best breakfast I have ever tasted. I want to see if I wake up that morning and don’t feel sorry. I want to see if something comes to me in the morning haze, a feeling maybe. I want to wake up and experience something besides dread and a wretched disappointment with myself. 

People are in love with an idea of themselves. Maybe in a sick way, I am too. That vision is supposed to propel us through life, make us desire improvement and recognition for our efforts. We all want to appear better than we are, and as a consequence this gives us motivation to live, to have the satisfaction of not only pleasing ourselves, but receiving praise from others for being so fucking incredible. A vicious little cycle.

But if you don’t care? If that vision is all about being the cruelest person? You must find enough satisfaction in what you selfishly get out of it. I’m not suggesting that it isn’t always selfish, in fact, come to think of it, conventionally this is less so than most visions. In truth, you have to settle for less than everyone else. You have to be alright with the fact that no one is going to understand it or appreciate it as you do.  You have to go it all alone and hope that the monsters that lurk aren’t going to feed off of you in the dark. Your suffering means nothing to anyone, and they will laugh at you and attack you until you are beaten down and weakened. No one will tend to your wounds. No one will regret that they tore that wretched thing down. Ugly things shouldn’t be suffered to live, after all.

And I am not ready. I leapt off the tower of humanity out of fear instead of faith, and there was nothing below to break my fall. I crashed all the way down, condemned to be a mangled heap of something that once was. In my eyes you either accept yourself (even if it is reluctant) or you spend a lifetime doing the job of killing yourself rather than allowing the world to do it for you.

Maybe the true escape is being nothing and having no qualms about it, not being burdened by what you’ve been taught or by whatever inadequacies you see yourself as being afflicted with. Maybe we are being stupid by trying for something that we all know is as pointless as anything else.

All we do is struggle constantly against who we are because we are so enamored with what we could be.

People are just a waste of time.

It’s the holidays. They’re getting to me. I feel like the damn grinch, but then again, perhaps that is good on my ego. I think everyone could use a bit more hating in their lives; it is soothing on the soul, or at least, the darker ones. Hating reminds me off all the pros that are stacked up with suicide, like the fact that I will never again have to face the world, or pretend that I give a flying fuck about anyone but myself.

I love nothing. I can’t love. Whatever that feeling is, I can’t feel even a semblance of it; it is a mere fantasy in my opinion, created by the same morons who decided that caging up the human populace in one small, confined area was the greatest idea. The same morons who think Christmas is more than just presents, or that you can’t live without someone beside you. Or that the point of life is fucking and spawning so that all your putrid genetics can get recycled in the disgusting gene pool of human filth.

I love nothing. Call it pessimism, negativity. Ha. I laugh in the face of your human ideals, the ones that hold no truth, just biases. And we all know, secretly, deep down, that it is all lies. Filthy fucking lies used to perpetuate a meaningless cycle. Keep you contained, keep you placid….

There is one law that negates all others: OBEY.

I’m supposed to like this, I’m supposed to want someone to share my life with, I’m supposed to want to do all the things that these fucking idiots find enjoyment in, when to me it is all just futility. You’re going to die. We all are. You can get new friends every five seconds, along with new husbands and wives, and it isn’t going to make a shit bit of fucking difference. We’re all rotting, dying, decaying, right now, this very second, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to prevent it.

It’s beautiful. It’s so fucking sickeningly beautiful.

All in vain...

It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.

I get tired of being like this, sick of the constant change. One minute I feel none of it, the next, all I feel is the sorrow, the pain. It’s as though every good emotion has been cut off, abandoning me to all of the darker feelings.

I applied for a few jobs. Much to my surprise, the online applications didn’t ask about transportation or anything like that, which was nice. I’m guessing all of that comes if you actually get called for an interview. I don’t know if I will; I’m not going to get my hopes up or anything. I realize that I could apply to ten different places and never get a response. It was a bit depressing when I noticed that I could check the box listed ‘holidays’ and ‘weekends’ without a backward glance. I really do have no life whatsoever. I don’t care if I don’t get to be home on Christmas, or if I don’t get to have my weekends free. I don’t care if I work part time of full time…. I don’t care if I make almost no money…. What does it matter to someone who feels as though life is nothing? It doesn’t matter, apparently.

I like the “housekeeping” job I applied for (to clean and do other junk in Macy’s). It probably pays shit though. Oh well, better than nothing, right? People’s lives are so highly valued it’s positively inspiring. Hours of our lives go for mere dollars…. Haha. I don’t care either. Goody goody. Something to make me hate the world more, something to bring some emotion to the surface. I just want to be out of this house for hours, if possible.

My dad left for a week for work, so I’m here with my mom. It sucks because I get virtually no time to myself now. She sleeps in the livingroom when he’s gone too, which means I can’t even get up to get a fucking glass of water without her dog barking at me and waking her. I want to tell her to go sleep in her fucking room, but I know she’ll ask why. Why? Because my room is just across from the livingroom. You’re out there lurking, all the time. It makes me feel repressed or something. You’re nosy. You freak out when I lock my door. You ever think that maybe I just want to be left alone? That maybe I stay up late for a reason? But whatever…. No one cares, so why should I?

I’m just tired, I guess. It makes me more bitter than usual. My fanfiction crap is going well; I’ve got about 60 something reviews on one of the things I’m working on. I’ve sort of acknowledged to myself that writing is what I enjoy, and that maybe getting published could be a means of making extra income if I play my cards right. Don’t know if I could, but there isn’t exactly anything to lose, now is there? I’d just have to get around to finishing my damn novel, which will take quite awhile. Though considering I’ve been tossing out a good 4000 words a day, maybe it won’t be as difficult as I originally predicted. It’s just a matter of getting motivated. I can write thousands of words right now because I know that people are actually interested in reading it, I’m not just typing for myself. That’s the problem with my book: no one has liked it. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I mean, when have I stopped and actually given a flying fuck about what anyone said/thought about me? My writing should really be the same way. I just have to believe in it…somehow.

I feel like I’ve hit the ultimate low after failing that driving test for the second time. It’s as though I can’t beanymore of a failure…. Once you go to the darkest, murkiest point, you can’t fall any further; the only way to go is technically upwards (watch me eat my words later…). Fuck it, fuck it all. I don’t care anymore. Failure? Success? What am I always saying about human ideals? That they are biased and stupid…. That they don’t mean anything to a monster like me. That each little piece of morality of life ideals…is a motherfucking lie. Human creations, thus tainted. Fucked. Imperfect. Void. Biased beyond all conceivable belief, therefore completely irrelevant to my own existence.

They can push it on my all they want, try to impose it, but it makes no difference. In the end I am the one that chooses, not them. I am not required to participate in this world; it is a construct, a human reproduction of nature that is doomed to fail because it tries for organization and understanding in a world that requires and accepts neither. This is the world, this is chaos. Human ideals don’t work here. And you watch these stupid dumbfucks take another few thousand years of doom and destruction to figure this all out—that’s if  they ever do….

I’m going to place a bet that they go extinct before any such miracle should occur.

Heroes and Villains: is there a difference?

Villain is only a human definition, it is not a term that can be applied to any other living thing and retain its original meaning. It’s purely a human idea. And as a purely human idea, I will say…it sucks. A hero is just a villain who kills in the name of something, but that hero STILL kills. In fact, if you think about it, it’s the villain who has accepted himself for what he is, and the hero who denies his misdeeds. Killing is killing. To pretend it suddenly has some magical ‘justification’ is just denial. Embrace your inner monster, accept your own evil. We are all disgusting traitorous monsters, we just need to accept that fact and cease dressing up our endeavors as ‘humane’ or ‘right’.

I sat down the other day and tried to define ‘evil’, which I don’t even believe in. A dictionary definition said something like: deeply immoral and malevolent. Before I start throwing a tantrum over the word ‘immoral’ and how it doesn’t exist, I will say that malevolent is a terrible definition. Already, even if I did believe in such things, it is apparent that their are huge inconsistencies. Malevolent: wishing evil to others. So we’ll take that as wanting ‘bad’ things to happen to other people, perhaps we can stretch that to ‘wanting to hurt people’, more similar to the word malicious. Generally evil people want to hurt others, correct? So if evil is wishing for bad things to happen to others, or wanting to harm people, what does that make a hero? Heroes kill villains. They do murder, yes? They want bad things to happen to ‘evil’ people. So now is evil defined as ‘killing only those who are undeserving or innocent’? Is a hero innocent? If a villain kills a hero because the hero tries to kill him (simple action/reaction), does that not equal ‘justification’?

If a villain kills with no reason in mind, then what is he doing ‘wrong’? He is not all that ‘evil’ by definition if he is killing indiscriminately, is he? If we were to just define evil as ‘murder, or harm’ then the definition would be too broad…. Heroes kill with the intent of harming, with malevolence…. They are singling someone out and taking their life, which by those definitions IS evil, worse than killing with no purpose, if you think about it.

It’s almost comical how this can all be twisted around. It just shows how flimsy human ideas are to begin with, and how bias can turn anything into “right” and anything into “wrong”.

So let’s take this another way, as I can already see a few flaws in the current analysis.

Heroes kill with the intent of saving lives. Take one life, save many, if you will. So evil then, is someone who kills/harms others either with intent or with no intent (to include all of the villains, of course). If the intent is to save lives in future, then it is not evil. If the intent is to only take lives or cause pain, then it is evil. Long definition, but at least there aren’t half so many loopholes.

With that in mind, Heroes take lives to save lives, Villains take them, period. What a double standard.

This is a prime example of just how fucked up human ideas really are. It’s like trying to figure out why sharks eat like garbage disposals. I mean a license plate? You know they can’t be THAT dumb, and if they are, that sure doesn’t explain how they’ve survived the damn near longest out of just about everything.

So basically, anybody who thinks that they are killing someone who is going to take lives, is technically ‘good’, right? Which would make the villain a good guy if he decided to go and kill a hero who was going to take out some of his villain posse. Taking life to save a lives, right?

That’s just it, the damn truth, right there: You can’t define evil, and you can’t define good when they are biased ideas to begin with.

Anybody can say something is good or bad, heroic or villainous. Each person’s idea of what those things are, are different. Some people think it’s okay to steal if they’re poor, others think it’s downright evil.

The conclusion that can be drawn from all of this is that humanity is the ONLY species that believes in such things. If we’re the only one, that says quite a lot right there. Other animals plain just don’t give a shit (or don’t have the same capacity for stupidity as us evolved apes), which is precisely the way it should be. Once you start trying to decide who’s opinion is right, you know that there must be biases if there isn’t a common consensus that can be applied to everything.

Therefore, good and evil are but ideas. In nature, who loves balance, there is only giving and taking, no definition of which is better or worse, “right” or “wrong”. They simply exist. Animals do what they will (both “good” and “evil” by human standards), yet you never see the scales tipped any which way for long. If the natural world can exist when it is filled with creatures doing only what is good for themselves, what does that tell you? It is humanity that is filled with discord, it is humanity that has so many problems, while nature resides just as peacefully as ever while each animal fights to the death.

We try to make definitions and be selfless, yet WE are the ones who struggle to survive, not nature which is based off of selfishness. It’s a beautiful thing.

Only more mistakes and no improvement.

It’s late. 1:40 am, but my brain hasn’t shut down yet.

A lot of times I try to convince myself that I hate the world more than myself. But the truth is, there is not a thing about me that I consider salvageable. I’m above and beyond a fool; I made so many mistakes today and did some really stupid things (though most would consider it justified, I still HATE the way I behaved…). When I’m angry I say a lot of things I shouldn’t, and I bluff to no end, as that’s my way. I know how to get under people’s skin, and I use it. I have this really ridiculous need to prove myself, not only to them (which in and of itself is sheer stupidity), but to me.

My brain tends to get muddled when I’m with others, to the extent that I become a stuttering useless piece of shit. I can’t get my thoughts out properly if I’m not riled. And well, it’s difficult to get an emotionless zombie “riled”. So generally I just end up in situations where I’m extraordinarily uncomfortable, and can’t speak as I normally would.

I hate myself, and it cut my soul even deeper today. I am nothing. I have no confidence to hold myself up anymore; I’ve overused my mask. The confidence was never there to begin with, and now that that fake show I put on is no longer working, I truly have lost what little defense I had.

I’m weak, stupid. I don’t know anything beyond my own existence, which is utter bullshit. There is absolutely no purpose for me to live, not any sort of redeeming quality that makes me think I’m deserving in the least. I’m a waste. I was never meant to be. Mistake.

Fuck, I hate myself so much right now, I can’t even express it. I hate all of this stupidity that I allow to go on and on and on…. For what? Why? There is no fucking reason. I should just do it, yet I never fucking get up the courage to do it. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I want to just not wake up, not even know that I’ve died…. Either that or I want to go out screaming in agony like a proper animal should. I don’t want this, I never wanted this…. All I wanted was to be left alone, to have no family no nothing. I wanted to be some nameless person sleeping under a bridge, or living out in a tent by the river. At least then, maybe I could find some fucking semblance of something instead of this nothingness…..

The only emotion I’ve been feeling lately is shame. I am completely ashamed of who I am, the fact that I even have the gall to show my face, to pretend that I am a creature deserving of life. I’m like a fucking tick. Nothing but a leech draining the life of everybody near me, and truthfully I don’t even give a fuck if I’m hurting them at this point, because all I’m feeling is the weight on my chest of being a complete failure at living. Worthless, nothing. I can’t even fathom how it is people can be confident, how they cannot feel this…disgust with themselves. Happiness? Love? I’m not even fucking capable. I can’t even tell my parents that I love them, even after all they’ve done for me. I feel nothing toward them, and it’s infuriating. There’s never going to be a time when I care about anyone, and isn’t that what this fucked-up humanity seems to believe is the “point” of being? Loving and being friends and sharing your life with other people?

It’s other people that make me miserable. If I could just be alone…fuck. Maybe I could forget. I could go on pretending that I’m strong and capable when I’m really the weakest and the most incapable. It’s nice to have fantasies; it makes me forget the sickening mess that I am. Everything about me…. I hate my being. I hate my mind, I hate my smile, my humanity. I hate how vulnerable saying all of this makes me, and the fact that typing it out makes me feel relief. I shouldn’t fucking need it. I shouldn’t need any of it; I should be completely beyond petty human stupidity, yet I’m not. The few last things left in this living corpse are all the things that I can’t bear to live with. And it just gives me all the more reason.

I want to give my life a chance, but at the same time I want to snuff it out before I fuck it all up even more, and humiliate myself beyond recovery. I don’t know how it’s possible to feel so much self-loathing and contain it…. I should just explode, but nothing happens. I get worse and worse, yet nothing happens. I can’t fucking do it. I fail at it as much as I fail at everything else. And I keep living and letting it build, so toxic and suffocating….

I think I’m secretly hoping holding it all in will somehow finish me off.

Lonely? Not in this world, not for these people….

I feel like the living dead sometimes. It’s as though I’ve been walking around so long without any higher emotions, that normal needs have ceased applying to me altogether. I suppose it could be the misanthropy, the solipsism, or just my overall bitter attitude. But I won’t blame those things, not when they have been the only reasons I haven’t taken a gun to my head yet, or a knife to my chest.

I’ve been thinking about knives a lot more lately. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to actually feel the pain, watch the blood…. It’s a much more interesting form of suicide, and not so…dull as just blowing brains out of my skull in a glob of tissue and bone. I wouldn’t get to see that, which somehow makes it…less satisfying.

Late nights of crying isn’t helping anything. I really no longer see any reason for tears; nothing can shed true sorrow, it stays forever, like an ink stain. You can’t wash such things away with water. Water does not purify, it pollutes, kills. It is just one more bland, useless action of the human body, like smiling. Stop fucking smiling.

I try to convince myself that I don’t need anyone, and in a sense, it is true. I don’t need anyone. Having other people near me will do nothing but slow the process that’s already started, the transformation that can’t be stopped. There is nothing that can turn the mush of a caterpillar inside its chrysalis back in a caterpillar; it’s either butterfly or nothing at all. Sometimes the process goes wrong…that caterpillar that was so hopeful never makes it past the liquid stage and just dies instead, all in vain. Some mistake that can’t be fixed or made better.

I lay awake in a tangle of sheets every night trying to remember why I even bother. I loathe the thought of being involved with anyone, the strings that would be invisibly attached…. But at the same time I feel this heavy weight in my chest with the knowledge that I will never be able to openly relate with anyone in the way I would like to. No one could ever accept what I am, what I could be. No one knows that side of me, because that’s where the monster rests. It’s the monster’s domain, not mine, yet we dwell in it together sometimes, and it placates me with whispers that none of the human things really matter. The truth is, I will only ever belong to myself. I am the only one who will never fear that side of me, the only one who embraces it for all that it is, takes it without question….

I speak of nothing, yet of everything. There are so many words I want to say that instinct tells me cannot be said. I risk exposure by telling the truth. I won’t even write it in my journal, the one that’s sits on the shelf…. I won’t admit it out loud, for fear of being heard…. I want to purge myself of the poison, yet I know that the poison has to stay, or I’ll never have another chance…another opportunity to die by my own hand rather than by the laws of the universe. It has to be done, it has to be endured.

People will not make me happy, that is the sad truth. The one thing that makes life ‘livable’ to other people is the thing that’s destroying me. I need to be alone, completely, irreversibly so. I need to lose myself in selfishness, so that I can finally be okay…. No pangs of loneliness will drive me to go to others, no matter what the situation. People mean exposure. People inspire nothing but hate from me, they make me wish even less to be alive.

The world says, “People make life good”, and really, I know now that that is the only reason I feel loneliness on those rare occasions. It has been dictated to me from birth, just like it was dictated to everybody else. All part of an elaborate plot to keep the collective together rather than allowing it to break off into separate parts…. But I am a separate part, have always been. That is why people bring nothing but pain. I am a different design, one that feeds on survival, pleasure and pain. I am humanity at its most primal, which is why this world hurts so much, why existence is so futile and meaningless to me. I am not free. I am not where I am supposed to be. I am the lone wolf that struggles on its own instead of bearing the position of the lowest in the pack…. I run from responsibility because it will tie me to this world, a place I never wanted to be.

Eyes, windows to the soul? No, just blank, expressionless things.

Have you ever heard that expression? Of course you have. It’s derived from that Shakespearean shit attitude that makes me contemplate my own death while scowling and simultaneously obsessing over hurting people who throw around the word love like it’s supposed to be interesting. You bore me.

I like how my mom always comments on how I have a sparkle in my eyes, as though there is some secret thing revealed in my eyes that only she can see. Basically, watered down, she means that I have “life” to me. I haven’t yet been torn down by the world like she supposedly has…ha, if only she knew.

I can’t see the same sort of things others claim to see, you know the entire idea of feelings and conflict that supposedly show in people’s eyes. Truth be told, the only emotions I can detect in human eyes are anger, annoyance, and fear. I feel sometimes as though I am emotionally dwarfed; something is seriously missing from my genetic makeup. I can only see my own incredibly limited range of emotions, others I either can’t detect or don’t care to detect. I have no compassion, not for anything human anyway.

Today I found a butterfly laying in the dust. I thought it was dead, but when I prodded it with a twig, it wiggled, still alive, but just barely. When I tried to coax it onto the branch, its spindled little legs were to weak to hold it to the twig. But it knew I wanted to help, or at least, that’s what I told myself, as it desperately tried to get purchase on the stick. Finally, after several failed attempts, its little white wings were all the more dusty and flimsy, all the more weaker. So I took another stick and used both to get a hold on it. I dropped the butterfly anyway, because the branches just couldn’t hold onto it…. I tried one last time, and the mangled little butterfly clung for dear life onto one of the sticks. I placed it on a nearby bush, where all the little leaves helped hold it up.

When I walked away, I felt…weird. I can’t really explain it except to say that it was a moment that I recognized something about myself that I had only briefly—halfheartedly—acknowledged. There is something in me that feels, but it is so beaten and broken just like that butterfly that it doesn’t work anymore. It worked once. I could feel, once. I felt for the butterfly because I admire butterflies, I like to watch them. I am fascinated by the idea that something took the time to go from a fuzzy caterpillar to a shell filled with life fluid, to a butterfly. But the truth is, I didn’t do it for the butterfly, I did it for me, for my enjoyment, and nothing more. And when I think about it now, if I was that dying butterfly, I would have crawled toward that stick too, secretly hoping that the creature wielding it would bash me to death instead of being a useless prick and setting me on a bush to die tortuously slow.

Other people can’t read eyes either. That’s the pure fucking truth.

Sparkle? i Finally figured out what it is she is talking about, that thing my mom says she sees when I smile. It’s sadism. It’s that sadistic gleam. There is rarely a time when I smile and mean it, besides when I’m doing something I know the world won’t approve of…. Laughing at my private jokes, things only I’ll never know…yes mom, it gives my eyes that “sparkle” you are so happy about. Just know, it doesn’t mean what you think….

People are rarely what they seem. And misanthropy. LOTS of misanthropy.

Everyone is always quick to assess others. Much to my distaste are the statements I hear from others about myself, statements made when the person knows little of me beyond a few hours of interaction. You know me do you, have solved the mystery to your satisfaction? I try not to be too bitter about it; such stupid answers are not really harmful to me as a person—quite the contrary…they are beneficial. It is good that people know so little of me, that all of their instinctual “knowledge” is a load of bullshit. This means play my part well, that my masks are even impenetrable to the “gut instincts” of other human beings.

I always get the remarks that I’m “very sweet”. It’s as though I’m not even there when they’re talking; I’m just an inanimate object incapable of understanding the esoteric goings-on of the so-called “adults” of the world. Since when did the “experience” of years of stupidity and ignorance equate to a deserved respect? Quite frankly, the older someone is, the more biting my judgment. If you’re old AND stupid, my opinion of your intelligence is going to drop considerably. You’ve had years to figure it out, and therefore no excuse to be a bumbling moron polluting the air with your tremendously lacking mental capacity. I’m just saying.

It takes on average, three years to fully be exposed to a person’s inner workings, and that’s just the easy ones. The people who don’t want to be found out…good luck digging the truth out of them. But the fact is, even the best actors have holes in their masks, little quirks that insinuate a VERY different personality than the one that they are allowing you to see. Basically, it’s just a matter of getting a good grip on that mask and tearing it off. Generally this is done by not-so-nice means, as the smarter ones are never keen on you learning the truth, on seeing through the lies they have so carefully constructed.

The better you get at understanding your gut instincts—I mean true instincts, not just the ones designed by society—the more likely you figure someone out sooner rather than later. And who doesn’t like saving a little time? It becomes a bit of a game after awhile, predicting other people, learning their thoughts. The terrible truth is, whether we realize it or not, everything is right out there for the entire world to see. Luckily mass stupidity is rampant, as is the severe misinterpretation of body language and speech. People say one thing, but usually mean another. Their body says it, even their words say it. So incredibly easy to read, yet no one does. This is why I can get away with ill-formed lies without ever being questioned. People are positively blind to others. We’re so focused in our little constructed worlds that we can’t determine when others are faking it. Fault of the egotistical, really.

I have time on my side. I look a lot younger than I am, especially when I dress more teen-like. When I go into college wearing a suit, I look older, and no one can guess my age properly. It’s SO DAMN easy. It doesn’t even require thinking about it, just do it. This U.S. is based on how you appear. Skinny and pretty is admirable, suggests all positive qualities, while fat and ugly suggests all negative qualities. Simple psychology. And no matter what you look like, if you dress a certain way, behave a certain way, get yourself to look a certain way, you’ll get respect without even trying for it. It is completely pathetic how easy it is to sway people. The thought of it makes me sick. There is nothing here. It’s a world of blank eyes and blank minds.

There is nothing HERE! I feel like I live in a world of robots who can’t think for themselves. Mass fucking psychosis. It makes me want to die because human beings are so hopeless. There are times that I don’t want to be associated with this species. At all. As they say, guilty by association.

I have to sit back and ask myself if there is hope for any of them, me included. We say we are everything, but all we have to show is nothing. A lack of understanding of the world around us, and most of all, a COMPLETE lack of understanding about ourselves. People don’t even know what they are. They have no clue. They live in a world of dreams and playhouse mirrors that distort their reality. They aren’t even good enough to be termed “sheep” or “cattle”. It’s beyond that, it’s like a virus. Doesn’t think, just does.

I know now that a big part of my constant depression is over the fact that there is nothing that can be changed, me or anybody else. I don’t even care about the world, its fate anymore. What should such a thing matter to something that is barely alive?

Each thing we do is the same motion repeated again and again in different ways. Everything is written off as “new”, when it is simply a dressed-up version of old. Civilizations rise and fall, people live and die. We claim individuality so much that we desperately believe it. But we are the same old thing, repeated yet again, another mistake, another scar in the history of the world. But someday it will be so scarred that it will not mend. It will be a battered canvas that can no longer be painted upon afresh. Done, finished. Humanity is but a blink in the life of something so ancient. We will not last forever.

And maybe it’s that, that “disgusting” truth that no one wants to face, that intrigues me. People only care about the future because they picture their line in it, that continuum of themselves. Honestly, no one deserves to breed, but far be it for me to stop them…. The future is basically an indication that humans have conquered everything. The thought that there could be a future without people is something humans don’t like to think about. It spells that delicious word: failure. People despise failure. Not only that, but they like to placate themselves with the thought that the world wouldn’t exist without people in it. I can say with certainty already, nothing will miss us.

We are “evil” just like any other animal, however we allotted ourselves to top spot. In doing so we sealed our doom. With so many of us, we do not play the game by the rules. We overpopulate. Disease runs rampant. It is always the smallest things that make the bigger things fall. Ironic, isn’t it? It will not be some super-animal that will destroy us, but a simple little virus. After all, we don’t much deserve a heroes death. We go out with a flicker, nothing more.

A fitting end, in my opinion to such squandered potential.

More human than human.

I’ve always liked that slogan; I believe it is from Blade Runner. Great movie. Anyway, there is something that has been on my mind recently, and it makes me wonder if I’ve made a mistake in the assumption that I am the one who is less than human….

Roy the replicant killing his human creator after discovering that he has only a four year lifespan.

I’ve always embraced being a bit of a monster. It’s never really been a question to me, just a truth that I’ve come to accept. No one knows what I think, but if you did…well…you’d be sickened. I am very animal. The focus for the last few years has been on typical animal needs, and really it always has been for me, just in the past I was too tied down by my childhood belief system to pursue it properly. So here is what I’m on about: What is so terribly wrong with wanting pleasure or destruction? That’s just it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was only when populations increased that we suddenly hit this idea of “morality”. It was only when the cows were slaughtered in slaughter houses by the millions that it suddenly became “immoral” according to some.

I’m going to continue this argument with food since it is something everyone can relate to. Before “civilization”, we killed out of necessity. In reality we still do (obviously we would die without food), though there are claims that we could exist without meat if we supplemented our diets with vitamins and meat replacements (i.e. nuts, which are high in protein and can be used to help make meat alternatives). Now, because we are all high and mighty, suddenly we have the need to figure out what is “right” and “just”, and what isn’t. We are—according to many—superior to the other creatures of the planet. As such, they argue that we are above the traditional instincts of the animals, that we can (and must) control our animal urges in order to have a “civilized” (quotation marks are my form of sarcasm) society, a “moral” one. Don’t make me vomit.

So people toss aside their animal instincts in submission to the idea that they are better than that. We have people walking around who couldn’t kill another animal to save their life, people who faint at the sight of blood, and overall, a very, VERY limited understanding of what goes on behind the scenes to keep the “civilization” up and running. What is funny is that none of this changes the fact that it happens. There is still the man who goes to work everyday, whose sole job it is to kill the livestock so that you can walk into Safeway and buy your meat products without having to look the animal in the face and take its life. What “civilization” has created is weakness.

I ate a goat named Freezer once. You can guess why his name was Freezer. He was intersexed, and of no use on a farm where all he would have been is a burden on the food supply and could serve no breeding purpose. I petted him a day before I ate him. He was a nice creature, though a little…slow. There is no kindness or morality in nature. There is no such thing as “fair”. Farms often reflect nature and its brutality; the weak or the imperfect don’t often survive. Accept it. You can go drop a bomb somewhere and see the true nature of humanity. They will trample each other running for their lives. The longer the trauma goes on, the less likely human beings are to implement their “morality”. In the death camps in WWII, after being starved for so long people fought over food, killed each other for it. You’d be amazed what people are capable of in situations that force them to choose who must die. It comes down to simply this: It’s either you, or me.

You want to see humanity? Look at the Cro-magnon. We are what we always were, and you can try all you want to sugar coat it and argue that we’ve changed, but when you put a human being in the shit they are going to act as they have since they first appeared. They’re going to claw and bite their way to life, even if that means taking everyone else down with them.

So what does that make me? It makes me human, back to the beginning, to the true creature. It makes the world a bunch of programmed machines denying what is just below the surface. The funny part is that they believethe lies. They believe them! Now, suddenly in order to have a clear conscience, they have to distort the image of themselves because they are too weakminded to ever face it. They can’t accept the fact that they are monsters, we all are.

We are just like everything else: ruthless and selfcentered. And the truth?

There is nothing wrong with that. Every other living creature does it, and so shall we.