ImpressionsYou wasted a lot of hours wondering, didn't you? Breaking the very pointless into the extremely pointless, and degrading the extremely to the impossibly. But I can assure you, that no matter how pointless those thoughts are, the action itself holds meaning. To reduce everything in this world to rubble is to understand the universe at a primal level.
At first, I feel inclined to regret it. To advise you not to do it. Yet, I know such a request would be superfluous and even counter-intuitive. After all, I know you like I know myself. I know that such a warning would not deter you, but riddle you with curiosity until making you shatter in one prolonged episode of moral depravity.
So I won't tell you to stop. In fact, I will tell you the opposite. Do it. Do it as quick as you can. As much as you can. As healthy as you can. The sooner you discover the truth that I wish I could have never known, the sooner you can get past it. The sooner you can accept it. Your life doesn't have to be
VoicesYou're one of the most fascinating people I know.
Really. It's true!
But that doesn't make you good. It doesn't make you right, either Maybe I'm not the person to make that call, since I don't really know what either of those things are; however, I'm confident they are not you.
You live a very ironic existence, don't you? Purposeless and apathetic. Only finding motivation in the petty and the depressing. And you wonder why you hate life. You've never lived a day of it. You watch other people live it, and you wish you had what they have But you can't. You can't ever be like them, can you?
See! That's why you're so interesting! Anybody different is met with curiosity. Anything that breaks the norm is a learning experience.
But some people are different and typical at the same time. They have these unique quirks about them that make them seem interesting on the first glance; but it is only upon close examination does one realize how typical they really are.
I have trouble with
Sewer ManIt felt instantaneous. As if I had gone to sleep normal, and woke up deranged. As if in a single moment, I had become what I am. I don't deny it, either my being deranged, that is. Any man, and I use the term "man" loosely, is deranged if they stray too far from the social focal point; and by God have I done that much!
It started as a fascination, grew to be an active interest, and eventually became what I recognize to be an obsession. I even remember the day that I completely regarded myself as obsessed or rather, deranged. I remember my insanity became so consuming that I submitted my humanity to it. Yes, that is why I use the term "man" loosely, because I often question if I am one.
To me, a "man" is one who thrives in social environments. There are odd balls, but even those who are troubled are still "man." However, sometimes you get these exceptions. You get these transgenders. These people who may or may not have social skills, just as a male in a female's body may
Note to SelfYou. Yes, you. This note has been written specifically to you and its contents are of the utmost importance.
Why should you trust me?
I am you from the future.
If you tell anyone this note exists, they either won't believe you or they won't understand the significance. The words will mean nothing to the stubborn and will be impossibly dilute to the gullible. You are alone in this.
I have written this to warn you.
In exactly thirteen minutes, you will die. You need to evacuate your home as quickly as possible. Once again, if you don't, you will die.
I don't have the time to explain the complex series of events that have led up to this moment, just realize that this is a matter of life and death for us both. Do not throw our life away. Please, get out immediately.
If you don't want to leave, AT LEAST turn on all the lights you can find. Then there is a chance it won't find you. A slim chance.
Before I end this message, I must stress what I said earlier: I am you from the future. I
SometimesI wish I could understand myself better.
I want to know what to do.
There is this constant feeling of lethargy crawling on my skin. There is this sudden and fleeting turmoil in my body. And no matter what I try, it never goes away.
Sometimes I'm depressed, other times not. Well, I'm always a little depressed, because that is just how it is. Depression seems to go hand in hand with confusion; at least, it does when you're confused about yourself. How could it not? We are the most important things in this universe.
The universe is seen through us, by us. By not understanding myself, by feeling this chaotic, lethargic, confusion, I'm not understanding the universe which is the most important thing in ourselves.
I've learned a lot through introspection and comparison. I give them credit for my pseudo-intellectualism. Pseudo-intellectualism being the title I dub my ability to appear far more intelligent than I actually am. Then again, I guess I could call it the same thing everybody
Max and Boston, a Pokemon FanfictionMax pulled his face out of the mud and wiped his cheeks. He was panting, struggling to catch his breath. His whole body ached and his eyes were beginning to water. He glanced back at his trainer, looking for some kind of guidance, for kind of command, but none came. All he saw was confusion and panic; it was all he ever saw in Boston. He started blinking rapidly, attempting to arouse himself; he could no longer think clearly. In the corner of his eye he saw a brown creature moving with terrifying speed, and instantly he knew what was coming. His entire body tensed as he braced for impact. A powerful kick to the face sent him flying backwards, on to his back.
Max's eyes opened. The world seemed to be flying by him. Lights were blurring past and everything was blending together, leaving him distraught and afraid. Instinctively, he looked for comfort, for anything familiar. First, all he could make out was a man above and behind him, but he didn't recognize him. He was beginning to panic.
The ship is slowly sinking
They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling
They're all around me,
She bent crouched low to the ground on her knees arms above her head sheilding the blows from landing on her. Each swing was a shuddering pain. The anger bubbled inside of her. She was so ready, so eager to get this over with. She wanted to defend herself to fight back!
Circling like vultures
They wanna break me and wash away my colors
Their scolding jeers cut her skin, made her bleed. Made her ache to the point she thought there is no lower to fall. That this was the bottom of the agonizing years. She could go no further. She cried crimson tears streaming down her cheek, through her hair. Trembling with rage and fear. So much fear had controlled her for years. Her silence throughout their stinging words was her strength...they would win. They would only ridicule her more for attempting to hold her own...They always won..
Wash away my colors
Ghosts"You really should be getting around to killing yourself."
This is how my morning starts almost every day. The Ghost telling me I should kill myself.
"Sorry to be a pest, really, but--you don't really want to kill more people, do you?" I don't say anything. No one can see The Ghost besides me; if I say anything, I'd look insane. To The Ghost's question, I just shake my head and get out of bed.
It's Friday, at 6:00 in the morning. My house is empty; my parents are on a second honeymoon in Aruba. Since I'm 17, they figure I'm old enough to take care of myself.
I go through the motions, preparing for school, without any emotion. Clockwork. While The Ghost continues to speak, about how I should commit suicide, about how I've killed enough people, even without wanting to. The Ghost says it's not my fault, that I can't control myself, that it's not anything personal against me, that if I die, I'd be saving lives. And that's true.
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