Kingdom of Debris

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About Me

We reach out to you from the dark side of the moon

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Theme by: Miguel
  1. "So you’re the kangaroo court. My judge and my jury. But you don’t even know me. I’ve walked through the valley and the darkness. Not the same one as you. But I guarantee, from inside, the walls looked every bit as high."

  2. "Night is the time when memory comes alive."

  3. "Being alive entitles you to one thing, and one thing only: dying."

  4. In Memory of How I’ve Changed: From 7/18/2013

    Today, I lost my best friend in the world. I can say that it was, without question, the most sudden, unexpected experience of my life. Since the day we met, and for three years afterwards, we were as close as two friends could be. I always thought, if no one else stands by me, you will. If I have no one else in the world, I will always have you. We had planned it that way, to always lean on one another both personally and professionally. And now, three years and 21 days after meeting, we are done. How ironic, I was even wearing the same polo today that I wore on the day we met. She was the only person in the world I ever truly loved. I don’t mean to belittle or offend any of you. I have grown to value and care for so many of you over the years. But at my core, I am a monster. And for so long, I felt myself incapable of love or real human connection. I thought I’d always be that thing in the corner that no one understood, physically, mentally, and emotionally distant from all else. Apologies for the dramatic wording, but I assure you, these words feel in no way dramatic to me as they pour from the most genuine hidden crevices of my heart and mind. And make no mistake, there will be no reunion a week later in which we laugh it off. This is for real. And it has, as I finally understand, been mounting for three years. And after three years, I thought I’d finally be able to once again see my best friend. And I did. One day…in three years. And in that Thursday was contained my last spark of hope. And now, the very next Thursday, it’s all gone. And I cannot help but dwell on all the ways in which I am so very sorry. Unintentional as it may have been, I hurt the one person I swore to care for and protect my whole life. I’ve been hurting her through every happy and sad moment of the last three years. So perhaps you were right to end it. Maybe it will ultimately be better for both of us. Maybe it’s just part of God’s plan. I apologize for everything. I’m sorry for the way I am. I’m sorry that after so many years of dragging a heart of ice around in my chest, I couldn’t control my emotional connection. I’m sorry for all the times I grew angry over something so…stupid. I’m sorry for all the little hurtful jabs that I never meant to take. Your mother told me I’d find someone else one day…but honestly, I don’t know. The one thing I will not apologize for is loving you, for being in love with you. You were, still are, and always will be, like a angel in mortal flesh. You transcend every expectation I had for humanity. You have given me more hope, more ambition, and more love than I ever dreamed anyone could give. I’m sorry I took it all for granted. I’m sorry that, regardless of the things you did that were wrong, I was the first and final catalyst for both our pain. My emotion, my feelings, were what finally lit the fuse on the bomb. I can try to blame you for a lot. But what good does that do? You will always be a saint compared to me. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, the anger I put off, simply because you didn’t feel the same way about me that I felt about you. You can’t earn someone’s love…and you certainly can’t force them to love you. And while I’ve always understood that, I suppose it simply didn’t sink in like it should have. But it doesn’t matter now. For now, everything I valued is gone. Human beings have a lovely knack for destroying the things they love. So perhaps your mom was right. In the end, no matter how much love I have to give, perhaps I am nothing more than a pariah, a harbinger of pain to those I love. I suppose my final message, a message you’ll never read, is that I will always love you. I will always forgive everything. And if by some miracle you find your way back to me, I will always be there, holding a lamp beside the door, to light the way for you. I pray that you’ve made the right decision. I pray that you are happy all the days of your life. I pray that you meet someone worthy of your spectacular self, one who will love and care for you as I did, but one who will be right for you in the way I never could be. And no matter where we go, no matter what we do, whether we meet again in this life or the next…I will always love you. More than you or anyone else in the world could ever comprehend.

  5. From 7/31/2013

    For three years, I loved one person more than everyone else in the world combined. I always thought that, without that one person, I would crack. I experienced my share of darker times in my youth, much like many of you did. And after all those experiences, I was sure that losing that one person, in whatever form that loss may take, would be the only thing that could break me down. I never gave much thought to that possibility, though. However real my love may have been, it still blinded me. But now, that day of reckoning that I never expected has come and gone. At first, the pain was indescribable. I felt as though this was the end of my happiness and ambition. For three days, I felt the searing knife thrust deeper and deeper into my heart. But the blade can only ever cut so deeply before breaking through. And at that point, if you still live, what more damage can it do? After three days, the pain faded, and she certainly had no power to stab me again. That was it. After three years of learning to open up my heart to someone, three years of intense love, the pain of loss lasted only three days. One day for each year. And by a week after, it seemed as though it no longer mattered. No matter how much I tried to make myself feel again, it did not happen. I entertained the thought that perhaps the quick recovery indicated that I never loved her as much as I thought I did. But I find that is not the case. The love is still there, even now…but if there is such a thing as indifferent love, this is it. Now, I’m far more plagued by another perplexing thought. If this was all I could bring myself to feel over her, the one I loved more than anyone else…then how much do I really care for anyone else? Certainly, if the vast majority of you suddenly departed from my life, I would feel nothing. But is this some inhuman indifference, or is it merely a long and heard learned instinct to never allow other people to rule my life? Presently, it is the thought most prevalent in my mind. For the answer possesses the potential to either solidify or redefine all that I know to be true about myself. The most pivotal crossroads in a person’s life are rooted not in events but in the thoughts and feelings associated with them. It seems there is much left to be learned from this experience. But as of right now, I can say this with more conviction than ever. The ones you love can be your greatest strength, but you must never allow them to become your greatest weakness. First and foremost, if you wish to be successful and live a meaningful life, you must first find happiness from within yourself, then branch out to others. The regrettable truth is that most people, even the ones you love deeply, are only very temporary components of your life, whereas yourself and the things you believe in will always be there. And because those are the factors that last, a truly wise person will build their foundation upon those things, and the build upward from there. Although I still have many questions for myself, I now know without any lingering doubt that I have built my foundations on what will always last. Perhaps I did give too much power to this one person. Perhaps it was doomed from the start, for I see now that, for almost all of those three years, the knife was already halfway through. But it doesn’t matter now. The first stab will never kill me. And no one gets the luxury of a second. My dear, dear friend. I will always love you, but what it comes down to is this: At the end of the day, you are the one who has lost something truly great in your life.

  6. "We so harshly judge those who wear the Devil’s skin over an Angel’s heart. But they’re probably the smart ones."

  7. "Why do I stay up all night? Why do I refuse to go to sleep even in the face of exhaustion?…. Because I’m afraid that I’ll wake up, and it’ll be tomorrow. And I will have wasted another day."

  8. For The Reflection of the Sunshine

    "I will never stop loving you." I recall that thought wrapping its serpentine form around my mind one year ago. It was the first time in years I looked back upon your face. And although I could never have fathomed it at the time, it may well become the last time I ever do. Never could I have imagined those words would ever leave my lips. Never could I have imagined that a little girl would have so much power over me. But you did, because you were it. You were the only person in this world I ever loved like that. I would die a thousand times for those who are my friends and family, one and the same. But even then, that love pales in comparison to what I felt for you. How could mere words begin to describe that? How could anyone ever quantify the mountains and the oceans I would have crossed, the stars I would have shot down from the sky, just to be with you? Every moment of my life, warmth and safety and passion perforated through my heart and mind. I would lie on my floor each day in ecstasy beyond what most people could comprehend, just imagining the day I’d see your face again. I saw through you in every way. I could read you like a book because we were so intimate in our minds. All your faults and imperfections were clear as day to me, and yet I found every one to be beautiful. You had a power that no human being ever has had before or since. Because of you, I learned that I could love. When I looked at myself, I saw the end of the world. But when I looked at you, I saw a new beginning. You inspired me to want to save the world. You were my angel. And you shattered my world, because you were my world. You damaged me more deeply than every other hateful little wretch in my life combined could ever manage. And I couldn’t even fully describe to anyone how it felt. I couldn’t even cry in front of my dearest friends… only alone. Sleep was my only escape from the pain, and even then, you plagued my mind. I would dream about you coming back to me, then wake up and watch my hope fade away as my eyes adjusted back to reality. I wanted to reach out to the wind, to scream into the darkness to give me back my happiness. But when the dawn came, I was left only with emptiness and apathy. And that’s the real nightmare. It was you, little girl. It was you who flooded my life with indescribable happiness simply because you were alive. You’ll go your whole life never understanding just what that means. And I will go my whole life never for a moment forgetting that feeling. For every moment without it tortures me. The memories haunt me. Not because of you, because I no longer want you. But because I miss that feeling. I’ve tasted just how happy a person can be, and I want it back. I’ve tasted the perfect euphoria. And nothing can replicate it. No drug could ever come close. And I’ll live my whole life comparing every person I meet against that feeling. I’ll halt myself from falling in love with one person after another because they can’t make me feel that way. Who knows; maybe I can’t feel that way again. Perhaps it was just a one-time thing, and now my heart is forever closed to such a connection again. And how ironic, that now I hate you. Odd, isn’t it? I never loved anyone else like I loved you… and now this. No, sad is what it is. We’re so far past the point where you have the power to harm me. In fact, no one can do that now. In a way, it feels so wonderful to be unattached. Every night I revel in the bliss and glory to fall in love with my madness and to do so without anyone else inhibiting me from finding myself in the darkness. I’m invincible. So why give you any of my energy? Because whereas I used to let my hate destroy, now I force it rather to motivate. Just as does my love, my hate ignites a fire deep in my soul and propels me onward infinitely. And I’ll use that hate every moment until I am perfectly happy, until there is nothing left but that overwhelming love and peace and ecstasy. I will find it again. And then, one day, far into the future, when I have everything I ever dreamed of and more… then the debt will be payed. That is my message to everyone. Use your hate, rather than allowing it to destroy you. And for those of you who know what it’s like to have your love spat back in your face, there is no greater vengeance than being happy and complete in spite of everyone who would ever do you harm or tell you that you’re not good enough. And finally, the world is so much bigger than one person, so don’t make the mistake I did. Don’t let one person become your world. You are your own world. The people you love just complete it. As I said, the memories will be with me forever. After all, that’s the one thing no one can ever take away from you. There’s so much beauty in them, and they can inspire so perfectly. But don’t live in them. Because you have your entire future to make new ones. Why should a little pain and a little heartbreak ever stop you from that? If you understand that, if you live by that, you are good enough. You are invincible.

    So here’s to one year. I’ve never been stronger. Never more alive. Never more free.

  9. America

    That’s a word we use every day, especially on the 4th of July. And very often, it does not refer to the country. It refers instead to the many different ideas and meanings that it holds to so many different people. Perhaps it signifies liberty, freedom, equality, acceptance, opportunity. Perhaps it signifies a haven built upon dreams that towers to the sky. That is why so many people around the world long for it. That is why so many people here long for it.

    Today, you will hear so many proclamations that America is the greatest nation in the world. But that is not the truth. I never bought into patriotism. So long ago I stopped speaking the words of the pledge or placing my hand on my heart. Often, I have half a mind not even to stand for it. They say it is a sign of respect. But respect for what?  Respect for the leaders who care only for themselves and use the terms “republican” and “democrat” as means of leashing the minds of their people? Respect for our ancestors who dishonored the spirit of freedom by enslaving and murdering those who were different? Respect for everyone now who seeks vengeance for the past under the guise of social justice? Respect for the men and women who died fighting for what they believed was right, but was really only a lie? Respect for the fabled American Dream that was buried so long ago by our world?

    I cannot do it. I cannot place my hand on my heart in reverence of a nation that even today feeds on hatred. There are no victims and aggressors anymore. We all play each role. Every race, every class, every religion seeks so fervently to cast their anger and blame on another, seeking reparations where there are no reparations to give. How could I ever shout accolades to this country while my mind recalls the men and women who were forced to go to Vietnam and die simply because of a political agenda, or the men and women who die now in the Middle East. I can think of nothing we gained that was worth their lives. 

    Those older than I always speak of the good old days, when this country was a proud and independent nation, built upon strong moral values and determination. But I cannot for the life of me imagine to what exactly they refer. A generation ago, we were locked in the Cold War. We spent decades on the brink of annihilation simply because two nations, one being our own, were too afraid and judgmental to work things out. The Cuban Missile Crisis was solved diplomatically only 42 minutes before the bombs were set to launch. Imagine that for a moment. We came within 42 minutes of destroying every life on this planet. A generation before that, the world was torn by mad men who sought to overthrow and enslave the world. We fought against them only to become a politically correct version of them. We were slaves to narrow-mindedness, driven by bigotry and a grave misinterpretation of religion that just happened to catch on culturally. A few generations before that, the entire nation was broken in two. In the eyes of the people, it was over the issue of whether or not someone has the right to freedom simply because they are different. In the eyes of politicians, it was a carefully masked struggle over resources and dominance. When we speak the pledge, we say the word “Indivisible.” Obviously not. Not then, and not now. And generations before that, we slaughtered countless native peoples in order to claim this land as our own. So when were the good old days? When was America anything like what we fancy it to be?

    And the American Dream? It has taken on many forms and evolved throughout the years. There was a time when it meant traveling here and, with naught but your own wits and determination, carving out a live for yourself in a vast landscape, owning your own home and supporting a family simply of your own means. When the 20’s hit, America was racked with excess and self-entitlement. The American Dream became a doctrine of instant gratification. People bought on credit and played the stock market as though it were a roulette wheel. They no longer felt they had to work for what they wanted. They felt they deserved it simply for existing. The attended lavish parties so that they could live vicariously. The Great Depression was a monster of our own creation. We needed it, and we deserved it, just as we deserve our economic problems now. And although so many will find it politically incorrect to say, the simple truth is that suffering and loss and desperation are a reality check. And yet, we never learned from the first crisis. In the 60’s the American Dream evolved again. This time, it came in the form of drugs and alcohol, used to blot out reality so that we could forget just how lackluster our lives are. The same is true today. Better to live a happy lie than a painful truth. And on the flip side of the coin, America is still every bit as narcissistic and self-entitled. We live under a doctrine that everyone should simply be given what they want. Because screw everyone else. We are lazy and unmotivated. Deranged as the radical Islamic terrorists may be, they are stronger than we are. Even if their belief is evil and psychotic, they still believe strongly enough in it to live and to die for it. Yet we here in America merely sit back and complain about the way things are, rather than taking any active interest in our government or economy, expecting it to get better on its own, expecting help from above to give us the dream we refuse to fight for ourselves. The truth is, the government does not care. And if you believe in God, He cares enough to tell us to get off our asses and take responsibility for the mess we’ve made. And this is the freedom we claim to salute, the freedom that we waste every moment of our lives.

    And yet, for all the ill I will speak of America and the world, there is something I will support on the 4th of July. I do not support the country. I do not believe in the country. But I do believe in the word “America”. All that the word connotes is the true Dream. And if we can all come together and once again believe in freedom, opportunity, acceptance, justice, and the safe haven that embodies the stuff that dreams are made of, then we have a future. Not just this country, but the entire world. I will never believe we are too far gone in this vicious cycle to fight for everything America claims to be. The American Dream, summed in a single word, is hope. That is what we live for.  Land and a country is only dirt. A flag is is only a pretty design. But a dream and the will to actualize it is what gives us meaning. It is the only thing that ever can. American claims to be that dream and that will, and I hope that someday it can be. I hope that the entire world can be. On the 4th of July, that’s worth celebrating.

  10. "Beauty is not definable by effort. Beauty simply is, or is not. And it exists as such deeper than the flesh."

  11. I just ran across yet another one of those posts about “nice guys”. You know, the ones that pop up either in article or status format on facebook ten times every waking moment, every waking day? I can’t really seem to recall if it took the position “Nice Guys Are Entitled to Women” or the position “Every Man Is A Misogynist Pig”, because they’ve really all just started to run together in my head as one giant accumulation of political/social bullshit to which Dr. Frankenstein (That’s you guys) has given a pulse. I read articles about social issues with the hope that I may be able to form a more educated opinion on the matters at hand. But I’ve come to only two conclusions regarding this particular issue. 1.) I have probably actually become dumber for having read all these sweeping statements of narrow-minded opinion. 2.) When it comes to relationships, 98% of you lose whatever molecule of intelligence and common sense once sat atop your shoulders.

    First, let’s tackle the two sides of this specific argument. It should be easy, seeing as I only ever see two very polarized and unflinching opinions in all my readings. “Nice Guys Are Entitled To Women.” Many of you seem to think that just because you are “nice”, it automatically means you deserve a relationship or or deserve to go balls deep in dat pussy (as many of you slimy, greasy little bastards so eloquently put it). But let me give you the cold, hard truth. If the best thing that you can say about yourself is that you’re “nice”, then you’re probably boring as shit. You’re generally respectful to other people, and you don’t hit women? Oh, well that’s great. You’re a decent human being. But people shouldn’t be given props for sailing along the lines of basic decency. Everyone should do that. But are you intelligent? Do you have big dreams and ambitions in life, something to drive you? What are your interests and your special skills? Are you a great writer? Can you take a few rusty pieces of metal and turn it into an automatic breakfast maker? Do you save people’s lives by carefully excising tumors from their body? No? Do you do any interesting things? No? Well, are you at least funny, spontaneous, generally exciting, a good kisser? No? Did you drop out of high school? Oohhh, might be a problem there. I’m sorry guys (and girls), but most of you are just genuinely boring, and I have no idea what attracts people of the opposite gender to you. You’re not funny or smart. You’re not motivated. You have no inkling of how to read people and pick up on signs. You’re not creative. You’re just…nice. See where I’m going with this? Being nice doesn’t entitle you to anything. In fact, being TOO nice is just kind of annoying. You don’t work your way up the corporate ladder or through college or onto the set of a Hollywood picture by being obnoxiously nice. You do it with your talent, your skills, your intellect, your cunning, your ability to spontaneously turn any situation in your favor while showing everyone around you a great time. And in many ways, that’s how you win a woman’s heart. Now, being nice is a great trait. It’s a trait that everyone should have. But if it’s all you’ve got, then someone would have to compromise/settle wildly in order to take that package.

    And now for the counter argument: “Every Man Is A Misogynist Pig” (#yesallwomen #lesbiansforlife). I could go on forever about corrupt uses of feminism…but I’ve already done that in previous statuses. So I’ll just stick with it as it pertains to the “Nice Guy” argument. Girls, no one is entitled to date you. No one is entitled to have sex with you. And the same goes for men. You don’t owe yourself to anyone. Having met a lot of boring people in my day, I fully understand when you don’t want to date someone. And I fully understand when someone who is, on paper, the perfect match just doesn’t seem to work in practice. The spark just isn’t there. It happens, and you can’t waste your life on the wrong person (or people; many, many people in most of your cases). That being said, not every person in the world who makes the “nice guy” argument is a woman-enslaving misogynist. Sure, some of them would love for you to have a collar around your neck and your hands tied behind your back. And that’s totally okay if you’re into that too, you kinky freaks. But there’s also a great portion of people (not just men) who make the “nice guy” argument who are not sexist. They don’t all think they’re entitled to your heart, body, and soul. Making sweeping accusations and painting the entire argument as inherent misogyny is nothing more than a defense mechanism. I know you hate to hear it, but it’s the truth. People very often cry racism or homophobia or sexism simply because they want to blame someone else for how much they, themselves, suck. Sure, nice guys don’t always make the cut. But is there ever, EVER a situation in which a truly, genuinely nice guy is not as good as an asshole to doesn’t pay attention to you, who only ever wants to hang out with his buddies and gets wasted, who beats you every now and again? No. And yet, so many people (men and women) date assholes. And in my experience, it truly is more often a girl dating an asshole guy than a guy dating an asshole girl (and of course, if you’re both assholes you just deserve each other). People date losers because they think they’re mysterious, because they think they’re spontaneous, because they never know what to expect. They have an idiotic fetish for the bad boy, regardless of the drawbacks to dating him. They’re so blind when it comes to relationships, and have such low self-esteem, that they’ll date the first rough and tough looking guy who calls them pretty. I’m talking to YOU ladies, the vast majority of you girls I know who are reading this. And in most cases, that man is the misogynist. That man is the one who thinks he’s entitled to you. That man is the one with no prospects and no real talents. His most interesting story involves puffing a blunt or curb stompin a nigga. But will you ever admit that? Nope. Because you’re a woman, a strong, independent woman! And any decision you make must be right! Right!? Sure, he may be a fixer-upper, but you can fix any man! Right!? Wrong, you dumb bitch. But oh, you do so want to be right. And as such, in your own mind, any person on earth who questions your decision to date a scumbag is automatically sexist and a proponent of rape culture. Once again, a defense mechanism. So even when someone is just trying to say, “Listen ladies, don’t be stupid. Why would you ever pick an asshole over someone who followed the guidelines of basic human decency.” you jump to the defensive because “I do what I want! #yolo.” You throw over the “nice guy” even if he has a lot more to offer than just being nice. You date simply to quell your low self-esteem. You are foolish enough to think that someone else can complete you and give you the confidence that you’ve always lacked. And that’s the problem with dating in the modern age, both for men and women. 98% of you are nothing but superficial assholes. And you’ll go to any length available to defend your superficial asshole behavior and your superficial asshole choices.

    So that’s why I can’t take sides on this argument. It’s an idiotic argument. Of course no one is entitled to another person, and of course you shouldn’t be so stupid as to date a simple-minded jerk. How much easier could it possibly be? But oh, you fine ladies and gentlemen of faces find a way to make it complicated nonetheless. How ironic that simple-mindedness breeds complex situations. The bottom line of the entire issue is that most of you really shouldn’t be dating. You’re far too young in your mind, far too fickle, far too given to little whims of emotion, most often out of an idiotic need for attention. And you all wonder why your flings only last three weeks before you “get your heart broken.” Everyone, I beseech you…get it together.

  12. 21 Years of Solitude...

    • I've come to learn that there are two types of people. There are those who are inherently connected with the world, and there are those who are inherently disconnected. It's somewhat akin to being either introverted or extroverted, yet it taps into far deeper levels of our humanity in psychology. You might say it is the core trait upon which every other aspect of our complex personalities is based. It begins with the distinction between socialization and solitude.
    • Now, that differentiation is as far as the black and white goes. There is much grey area to these qualities, and neither is inherently greater or less than the other. We are, after all, a wealth of complications. Those who are predisposed to socialization are very much a part of their world. They derive fulfillment and energy through active involvement with others and with their environment. And yet, in contrast to logical assumption, this does not necessarily mean they have a great many friend or that they need social interaction for fulfillment or that they are necessarily extroverted. This group is diverse by nature, especially considering it is comprised of the vast majority of people
    • In these twenty-one years, however, I've come to find that I'm not in that majority. My very nature is that of solitude and removal, an almost inherent distance and disconnection between oneself and the rest of the world. Oh, but how I've often tried to be something I'm not. I grew up in a neighborhood where there was no one else my age, and as a result, I did not develop the social skills from a young age that other children often do. But it didn't bother me. Oddly enough, I always preferred to shut myself in my room and be alone with my thoughts, to take my toys and create a fantasy world around them in which I could thrive. My imagination was my reality, and with no barrier between the two, it's not difficult to imagine why I was such an odd child. The social stigma on all my strange and ostentatious qualities caused me to be rejected by all around me. Rejection...the first social experience I ever knew. I looked at the other children, all with their groups of friends with whom they could find something in common and take shelter from the kindergarten social storm. I, however, was alone. For a while, all I cared about was attempting to make others love and accept me. For several years I tried. And for it, I was stepped on, rejected by teachers and students alike, harmed physically and emotionally day in and day out, all for the amusement of those for whom I was labeled unworthy.
    • Whether you're introverted or extroverted, or whether you're a creature of socialization or solitude, the song is still the same. Nothing cuts more deeply than being denied love by those from whom you desire it. Perhaps that is a universal constant of human beings. If we love and are not loved in return, it is shattering. It took its toll on me over the years, isolating me, fostering hatred. Every night that I cried myself to sleep out of loneliness, another little piece of my soul was chipped away. In time, I grew to hate people, many for no reason other than the fact that they simply existed. And then the hate turned to indifference as I drifted away. Something else interesting I've learned is that there is one demographic who are inherently beings of solitude: sociopaths. The state of sociopathy is the ultimate form of solitude, complete separation from the world, the inability to feel or connect with another human. We fear them because they are creatures of selfish objectivity, which more often than not leads to destruction. But I think it's plain to see that for several years of my life, I could rightly have been called a sociopath. People's lives and existence could not possibly have mattered less to me, and the only thing I loved besides myself wasn't even human. I was cold to the world, my heart imprisoned within a cask of ice, sunk so deep beneath the sea that no light could caress it.
    • In the first two years of high school, however, several events came about to change my perspective. I met several very good friends, and for the first time in my life, I came to know the true face of trust, loyalty, and camaraderie. And for the first time in years, I recalled what it was like to so deeply crave love. Part of me always wanted to much to be part of society, to be accepted and understood, a less complex existence. I loved being around other people, getting to know them, and coming to love both their strengths and faults. And so it happened that I began to assemble my family, the one I always wanted, the one I would choose. I remember how I would sit beside my computer all day, into the evening, chatting with my new-found friends. I did not want to be without them for a moment.
    • I was so naive as to think that all who I wished to be part of my family would remain part of it, steadfast and loyal to the end. I wanted to grow it day by day, giving myself and everyone else a massive network to depend upon. This is not the way of the world, though. People come, and people go. Though a few here and there remained, most turned their backs on me. And it cut deeply once again. Before, they never loved me to begin with. But this time, it was those I had once been so close to, drifting away, ceasing to care even though my heart still burned for them. And so I replaced them, time and time again, so very many people.
    • But as time went by, something strange began to happen. I grew used to it. Perhaps it was a result of the time my dearest friend departed from my life, breaking our solemn bond and contract. Perhaps it was a result of my failed attempts at love. Perhaps it was a result of so many people turning their backs on me in the few moments when most I needed human connection. Perhaps the aggregate, mixed together with the independence and distrust and narcissism I had fostered so early in life, caused me to form my middle ground view. I've come to view people as purely finite things, and from all that which is temporary, I keep my distance. There have proven to be a few exceptions, but I can count them nonchalantly on a single hand. I used to believe those words, "We'll always stand by one another. You are my family." But words so often repeated and subsequently broken tend to eventually fall on deaf ears.
    • Make no mistake, I have wonderful companions, a few who I genuinely believe will be there forever. But even so, I've noticed something these past couple years, and in the past few months especially. I become increasingly withdrawn. I find I can take less and less of people before becoming physically exhausted by their presence. Socializing, in almost all cases, drains me of my energy. Where once an email or message on facebook never went unanswered, I now often see one pop up and simply ignore it. Six conversations will get going at once, and suddenly the only way to escape the cacophony in my head will be to leave all the texts and messages unanswered for hours, sometimes even days, at a time, hoping that when I finally do respond they either will not or will not reply until much later still. Even if it is from one of my dearest friends, there are an ever-increasing number of instances when I simply desire solitude. Solitude charges me, replenishes my energy, sharpens my mind. I find comfort in the insane psychopathic rants that fuel my endless nights, the various voices and personalities that spring forth from my lips. Sometimes, it's as though all the world and all the people I could ever need are contained within myself alone. And even more unfortunately, I've grown to a point where I can readily live without almost any single human connection. People who I loved dearly, who were once my best friends, have broken ties with me many times throughout my life. And in the past year, I've progressively stopped caring. I no longer feel much of anything when someone leaves, whether temporarily or permanently. I've lost patience with the fickle things in life, with those who are still children.
    • Does this mean I do not care? No, as a matter of fact, I've proven to myself time and time again that I have an unnaturally strong capacity for love. And in my own way, I have an unnaturally strong sense of loyalty and honor, the two qualities I value most in any human being. And yet, in almost every moment, I feel distant from the world, disconnected. I suppose I've always felt that way, even in the days of high school when I tried to hard to be among the living. And in the rare event that I engage so personally and closely with another person that my heart and mind tie in with theirs, I feel more distant from the world than ever. It's as though that person has, for a brief time, stepped out of the world and crossed over to my place, high above, removed, looking down as the seven billion gears of the sentient clock turn together, passing time. But in those moments, we exist beyond time. I share that solitude, transforming it into perfect euphoric bliss.
    • It is, however, only ever for a short time. They return, and I find myself still detached. Much of my life up till now has been a journey of accepting the fact that I am not like anyone else. Not necessarily better or worse, despite what my narcissistic side will tell you, but simply different, hearing each note on a unique frequency, dancing to the beat that plays only in my head, drowning our the sound of drums that echo across the globe. Whether I had a hundred loyal friends or was alone in the world, I have lived for twenty-one years in solitude. There are times when it's a strange feeling that consumes me, yet leaves me feeling empty. There are times when I feel as though I'm nothing but a ghost, not seen or heard in any traditional manner. There are times when I misinterpret it as loneliness, and there are times when the odd sensation of misplacement keeps me awake late into the night. But I've grown somewhat used to it. I sometimes even revel in it, like I did all those years ago when I first detached myself from a world that did not live up to my ideals. At times, it's rather glorious. When you step away from the beating hearts around you and look at the big picture, it's as though you can finally hear the heartbeat of the entire universe, in all its life and glory, so vast and distant, impenetrable and impossible to understand. And yet, it's ours. Besides, we're all alone in one way or another. The best of friends often begin by bonding over that particular quality.
    • I often wonder if, some day, I will find true love, that special person who, against all odds, shares my frequency, point of view, psychotic tendencies, inexorable ambition, and that fiery heart of the warrior, that which can be dangerous but can also love beyond measure. It's a long shot, and as far as I'm concerned, it is the only truly uncertain detail of my life. But perhaps one day we'll meet. And that one special person and I can share eternity in our world away from the world. But there's no rush for that. In fact, it really is foolish that I worry about or over-think my disconnection. It's merely who I am. I may often come across as cold or uncaring because of it. Perhaps that's one reason why so many people have walked away. But really, it's quite the opposite. I don't have to feel like a normal functioning cog in the world in order to love those rare and special individuals. In fact, it makes my love for them all the more powerful. A long-distance friendship kept alive despite thousands of miles of physical separation is indeed astounding. Well, it's much like that, I suppose. To those of you who I've expressed this love toward, although I may be distance at certain times, there is never a point where I stop caring. The only ones who know the true value of love are those who have lived without it. And although my bubble may seem impenetrable, it's not without its hidden doors. You're the only home I've ever known. And I'd have it no other way. Just us. Way out there. High above. Among the stars.
  13. The Accusation: Via Facebook

    • I have a few words for you all. The vast majority of you who will read this are parasites, vile and affectless little things. You see how resilient and insightful I am, and you come crawling to me for advice, for comfort. You whine and complain because you are too pathetic to get your life in line, and I help you, reassure you, build you up. Time and time again I do this, asking nothing in return. But in response to my kindness, you throw out a dishonest thank you and rush as fast back to your little party as your feet can carry you. I hardly ever need anyone, and yet, every now and again, the time does come when I find myself not so very strong as I'd like to be. And when I need you, do you stand by me as I did so often for you? No, you push me off, regarding me as an annoyance. "Oh, you're supposed to be the strong one. So yeah, you go ahead and handle this yourself. Just do it over there where you can't annoy me with your emotions." There are only ever a few people I can turn to in my times of need. And the rest of you hit the road like cockroaches rushing away from a bomb. You lose respect for me when you come to realize that I'm not invulnerable. I've seen the look on so many of your faces when I try to reach out, that look that screams, "I don't want to hear it. Just keep it to yourself." In the past year, I've come to know very well exactly which of you are just that fickle, uncaring, and shallow. You remind me day in and day out how stupid I am to open up my heart to people. And I want you all to remember this. I always bounce back, better than before in every way. And when you come crawling to me again, you're going to see just how vindictive and unforgiving I can be. I know who every one of you is, you ungrateful little children. But I suppose I owe you a skewed thank you. After all, with so many pretenders, I've learned how to adequately value the few who really do care.
  14. 1 Notes
  15. The Second Year

    • As of yesterday afternoon, my second year of college came to a close. And now, sitting up at 6 in the morning, I reflect back on where I was at this time last year. I think of how much has changed and how many loops I've been thrown through. It has been a tumultuous ride, abounding with people, events, opportunities, and circumstances that I never expected to experience. Looking back I can affirm what I only guessed at in all those moments where I felt the weight of the world. For the past year, almost, I've been continuously undergoing what psychologists refer to as a quarter-life crisis, a struggle of identity that afflicts most people in their young adult life. Unlike its mid-life counterpart, it is often overlooked and under appreciated. So let's have a quick review of these past twelve months. After three semesters of struggling to keep myself academically on track in engineering, I finally took a leap and switched my major. Following a miserable failure of a film project, I took up another one and have since brought the full length feature to near completion. And incidentally, I have been able to meet many outstanding individuals in the professional industry. By little twists of fate, I encountered two groups of people upon returning to college, each filled with unique and versatile individuals who I came to call my family. And as these things go, there were many points throughout the year when I felt the strain on these little families, as well as some others that I've kept around from years past. I've watched more dear friends come and go in this year than perhaps in all others combine. I've pulled myself back up from emotional oblivion after two failed attempts at love. I've learned that it is often when we are the weakest that we're called to be the strongest, and it is when we reach our lowest point that we are open to our greatest change. I've gained outstanding control over my emotions, and yet I have gained the wisdom to never again deny how powerful they are. I've struggled endlessly with multiple personalities, the light and the dark, the impulsive and the logical, the creator and the destroyer, the avenger and the protector, the good and the bad, the loving and the hateful and the apathetic. I've finally decided that no matter how many ugly qualities we have deep down, they do not have to define us; it is our choices, how we choose to use our more monstrous aspects, that determine who we are. This has been the first year in my life that I've let loose, dropped all facades, and allowed everyone to see who I am both at my best and my worst, just how crazy I can be. More so than any other year before, I've spent countless nights as an insomniac, unable to quiet my mind. I've struggled with so many questions. What if I don't get the grade? What if this project doesn't get done? What if I lose this person as a friend? What if I can't save this person from themselves? And what of me and myself? Am I good or am I bad? Am I doomed to destroy everything I love with my volatility? Will I accomplish my goals for the future? Will I live a happy life or end up a lonely martyr for what I believe?.... Am I just over thinking it? Moments of peace were few and far between, as were moments where I was free from some great degree of pain or another. But I wouldn't change a single detail, not for the world. I've come to love the difficult and tumultuous moments. I've come to love the identity crisis. We need it to find ourselves, to grow up, and to take on the world. I am armed now with more self-awareness and more answers than ever before. The adversity has by no means abated, and it probably never will. But ironically enough, that's just fine with me. I love being a swirling mess of personalities rather than a single person, and I love seeing every point of view as a result. I love being crazy and volatile and throwing caution to the wind just as much as I love being in control and always with a perfect plan in action. I love being a lovesick little child just as much as I love being the strong and passionate individual who will change the world. No one has anything left with which to hurt me. So to all the adversity that has yet to come my way, bring it on. Give it your all. Don't hold back. I sure won't be. And of that, you ought to be terrified.
  16. "We’re all of the same breed. We long most for that which we deny ourselves."