The peak experience of rock bottom.

Sometimes I wonder about things, a lot of things. I still struggle with my appearance, my somewhat reticent personality. Sometimes I wish I could be different, that I didn't look this way, that perhaps I could be normal; and not an eccentric.

Some people say being normal is bland, I'd agree, I suppose. I love what I am inside, but to most people that's of little significance. All that matters are the "did u meet n e cute boyz?" or the adage, "yo pussy is pussy man." I guess that's all that really does matter, in the context of... the universe. Really. Why should I hold back, why should I be reticent, why should I be me? We're all going to die, and not only that, our kids are all going to die too, and furthermore, our species will likely be added to the ever growing list of the extinct. Even if we do venture into space, how far can we get? What does it matter to me? Shouldn't I be concerned with the well being of future generations? It sounds nice, but does it really matter? Life is misery, and nature is a merciless son of a bitch.

Why am I even writing? Who gives a shit? I'd like to tell myself somebody's going to discover this and maybe something great will come out of it, but deep down I know it won't. These thoughts, this stream of consciousness, of what use is it? This nihilism oozes, and like my writing, it stinks. Teachers always pretend, "you've got some great ideas but you need to work on your execution!" All I have are ideas; for all I know they're shitty too. I can't express myself, I can't do shit.

I wish it wasn't like this. I remember telling my brother, "you are everything you hate," in response to something stupid he said. I can't help but wonder, am I everything I hate? Low self-esteem, unattractive, all that good stuff. I feel like I'm losing my connection with reality. I should, it helps. It keeps me down to earth because when I end up floating away, I look around. I look up. I see myself in the stars, I see you, I see it all. What does it matter what I look like? We're all coming back home, to nothing, sooner or later. The organic molecules the earthworms might take from my body will be recycled, to be used in the development of even more marvelous life.

I can't change what I am. This connectedness I feel from my different experiences brings me peace. I need to open up, to experience life more fully, before time runs out. I feel love resonate inside, it's best to set it free, to let it fly freely. I know why my caged bird sings. A peak experience if I've ever had one.

Just Be.

It's about time.

There's something great between lovers,
Something with which I can't compare.
The way you interact, the way emotions flare,
Sometimes the only thing I can do is stare.

I'm not out to make the rhythm smooth,
Or the bumpy road soothe.

Perhaps this isn't mutual, I would then understand.
As in life, and with love, the supply is less than the demand.

I'm not special, and I'm haunted.
I can see why I'm never wanted.

Being special isn't all it's made out to be.

My best guess: it's my personality,
My lack of irresistibility.
I don't exactly carry an aura of likability.

I battle with the yes/no questions... every single day. That committee meeting in my head thinks of putting in as much effort as you did. It kills me, but I try to explain to myself it shouldn't... I don't know how to respond to my feelings. It's a battle that never ends.

I still battle the animal, the primal instinct. He's a fucking douche-bag. But what if it isn't the animal? What if that's all an extension of my self? Oh, how depressing and cynical this all sounds... God I feel like shit. I'm sick of writing like this, sick of myself, sick of what I am, what I'm not, what I could or couldn't be.

The only thing I've been telling myself lately is that nothing matters. That's how I justify things. And you know what? It works. It keeps me sane. We could, actually we will, all end up like the dinosaurs one day, so you know what? Do whatever the fuck feels right, whatever makes you happy. Do anything and everything. And you know what? These ideas make me happier, they keep me going.

It's about holding on; it's about letting go. I feel like I can't let go. It's not like me to give up. I can take a beating until I'm on the ground and made to beg for submission. That's the way I am. I figure I almost always find a way around most problems I've ever had. And now, the only solution that comes up is to let go of this dependency, because it's not working out. I'm not dependent on alcohol or anything else to keep my moods up(or down) and I can't be dependent on you, it hurts. It really comes down to what I can rationalize to keep me moving. I try to love my self because I guess in the end, "you are all you ever really have." Now, mind you, there's a massive difference between letting go and being dependent. I could be independent and decide to 'let go or hold on', but I can't be dependent and 'let go'.

What does it all come down to? Time, I suppose. Everything seems to come down to that. Time to pass until school starts, time to pass until the semester is over, time to pass until school is 'finally over!1!', and full circle. If there's one thing I've come to realize, something that makes the most sense, but is the most difficult for me to adopt; it would be to enjoy every moment as life passes you by. Make the most with what you have, a sort of universal optimist outlook. Get over yourself, Irfan. That's what keeps me moving. A teacher in high school used to work on Wall Street, and the theme of his class was: "Life isn't fair. Get used to it." That's what I've been trying to accept, and I suppose I will.

I'm free. I love saying that.

The Ruiner

I am pure, unadulterated evil. I did not know this until recently.
I am selfish, crude, and irrational; with no sense of decency.

I am an odious tormentor; all I deserve is destitution.
For I am the Ruiner; and all I ask for is retribution.

If I need to hate someone, I know to look no further.
Words cut like guillotines, and I'm the executioner.

These new feelings; I cannot explain.
Insights are revealing; it'll never be the same.

I don't deserve you, nor do I deserve a second, or first, chance.
I am the issue. Eureka! this is fortuitous happenstance.

What's left of my heart understands,
These secret fibers, these vindictive strands,
Will never allow me to appreciate holding your hands.

I can't accept forgiveness; I know I don't deserve it.
Take my apologies for what they're worth; I know I'm not worth it.

Curious

Bees buzzing, hiving my head.
Hold onto something, don't look dead.
Kasno nam je,
Daleko nam je.

Songs are blazing,
Over the horizon,
Humans impulsively razing,
Accompanied by brazen,
Horns and Drums,
Dutifully Praising.

Planet Earth turns,
O, look at how it spins,
O, imagine how all the bright lights twirl,
From an ocean of marbles: life unfurls,
O, I can't keep up...

My soul,
Held hostage,
To salvage,
What's left?

Am I free?
Broken,
Condemned,
Unable to,
Transcend.
Perception,
I wish to rend.
Everything,
Is determined.
I hide to mend,
Having been,
To my chagrin,
Strewn and Torn,
Wayworn from scorn,
Awaiting Gabriel's horn.

Stranded on rocks in space,
Is there a point to this place?
Mighty sunbeams kiss my face:
Effulgence of Agape Embrace;
Smiling, Enamored by its Grace.

We head back...
Back from whence we came,
Look at how they shine!
Look at you!