deceptive trails

this is stupid. why am i doing this. why am i continuing on. i can't stand this pain, this life, this stupid body of mine, i hate my life, i hate myself for what i did to her. i am disturbed by my skin. i hate my head. it's come to feel like a concrete prison. i'm not happy. i hate this world. it's not ready for me yet. i'm in so much pain. my hands just itched like crazy, so i scratched them so much, they're now raw. my knees and ankles won't even hold me up anymore. i do nothing but hurt and shake and cry. some may find this repulsive, but i am repulsive, so deal with it, but i'm never going to find another woman who loves everything about me, even the smell of my farts. go ahead, laff, but she literally did. and i'm sick of pulling shyt out of my eyes, and not being able to wipe it on my wife's naked leg, and see her smile. she taught me unconditional love, when the rest of this town raped their hatred into me. violated my dreams. destroyed my peace. why am i still here. why am i still hurting. this is stupid. why do i keep believing in this juvenile playground. the things i'm interested in: nudity, pot, love, touch, peace, logic, evolution, utopia, comedy, enlightenment, elegance. what others are interested in: lunacy, videogames, popular crap, blame, hatred, seclusion, separation, exclusion, degradation, competition, fear, violence, destruction. and why am i still here again? if this world is not ready for utopia yet, why am i still here. i should come back later, shouldn't i. makes sense to me. this life was trashed, and now my head feels like a concrete prison. extremely uncomfortable and disturbing. physical reality is too physical to me, and is not real. i feel every hair on my head, i feel my skin, my skull, way too much, like it's too hard, too solid. i used to be able to think outside my head, but my caring loving family made damn sure to destroy that, and turn me into a violent little boy who beat my wife away from me when i didn't want to. this chaos is exactly why i shouldn't be here. i was meant for more than this. you can blame me for wasting my life away, but if we all stopped blaming and accepted responsibility, and were brave enuph to make a daring choice, we'd realize we wasted our time blaming eachother. i wasted my life trying to motivate my stupid lazy worthless mother to get off her ass and live her life. she's now four hundred pounds with a tracheotomy. my whole family, as well as my ex, they're abusive projecting oblivious idiots in denial. i had to go thru years of forced mental help, just to have them destroy me. in the end, it was the rest of them who should have had to do that. i was always right, but never heard. i will stick around just long enuph to see if a doctor or lawyer or publisher will help me get my story told, and get back what's rightfully mine. my life. and have these irresponsible, immature, juvenile idiots held accountable, not that it would matter. if it's only going to make me feel better, and not solve any real problems, what's the point. vengeance is just as dumb as blame. there's no happy ending to this horrible story. why take a real life story this ugly and dead, and try to make anything out of it. i'd be beating a dead horse. at least it's better than being ashamed of beating my wife. you couldn't suck sympathy out of my family with a hooker and a hoover vacuum. let alone anyone else in this backward ghost town. so why keep going. why. figure this: i don't bathe, i hate money, and i have herpes. any women out there find that attractive? there are six billion people online, i've got three blogs, two da pages, fetlife, twitter, and i couldn't be more invisible. i've joked before, i'm so dark, you have to be blind to see me. it's no joke. i've said in a poem, i'm the world's greatest unknown. i used to like that. i can't even find a friend who can use punctuation correctly, my chances of finding another girl who not only deals with, but loves all my issues? i'd have a better chance of shooting myself on a dating show. just for george carlin style ratings. he said life is worth losing. ernest hemingway said 'the world is a fine place, and worth fighting for'. morgan freeman only agreed with the second part. i say, stop 'fighting' for crap when you don't even know what you want as a collective consciousness responsibly sharing a planet, stop 'fighting' for everything, instead, start living for something. dreamers have something to live for. idiots have something to die for. there is a difference. take greater care in the terms we use to define our coexistence, and stop trusting the wrong people while they distract us and mislead us thru the wrong choices. 'ooh, do i buy the iphone or the itard with lady gagme accessory kit'. which lie do i want to buy today. do i want to buy the tabloid with aliens on the cover, or the tabloid with demons on the cover. or the zombie shooting videogame that everyone else on this earth plays. or do i strip off my fears and join the logic train and say yes to now. such a hard decision. i'll procrastinate pondering that. and that's the family i come from. the town i live in. the world i stare at with a painful look of befuddlement. like i've got a nuclear fart waiting to turn me into a suicide bummer. get it? i'm a joke that no one laffs at. a rockstar in an empty bar. alien far from home with no car. and now i'm repulsively alone. uncomfortable, in pain, insane, and hopeless. a man destroyed. i saw you turn your heads and lock your doors. living in fear and seclusion. ipods and zombie games for a zombie generation that's too lazy to change the world. which is why we need iron man to do it. i was more of a hero to my wife than any fictional character. and now i'm nonexistent. invisible. i'm so dark, you have to be blind to see me. acquired taste, or acquired sight? i have taste, i have sight, but i don't belong here. i'm made to feel that way every day. sympathy is always minimal to me, but the abuse, they go above and beyond. if you put half the effort into building something that you do destroying everything, we'd have utopia now. i'm sick of waiting for now to be put off till later. i'm sick of digging for a meaningful response. a unanimous 'yes!'. enthusiasm. not apathy. we ignore our dreamers, cause the heroes in the movies are paid more and look hotter. and we don't have to worry about upheaval of our comfortable fears and inhibitions. let's just blame this guy for trying to change us. and roleplay some fictional meaning into our lives via remote control. so we know tmrw will be the same as today. i take comfort in that. fitter, happier, more productive. in denial that i'm completely insane, which is okay, cause i'm completely insane. so i conclude that i do not belong here. neither did john lennon, neither did bill hicks, we're just fine spiraling into darkness and confusion on our own, and we'll blame you for the whole thing and send you packin' anyway. oh, but you can't take yourself out, cause we'll feel lonely, so we'll guilt you into staying miserably until we decide it's your time. and we'll ignore you till you get all old and wrinkly and negative like your grandmother. i'd honestly rather leave you all to figure it out for yourselves. and when you fail, and realize there was some dead dude back there you should have listened to, i'm going to be sitting on arcturus watching you thru a telescope, and i'll laff when i see the puff of smoke. you make it so hard to live in this world, but so hard to die without a guilt trip. i used to know some elementary students who would laff at us. i'll give you a hint. one of those students grew up to be albert einstein. one of my heroes. most of my heroes are either dead or fictional. that's pretty sad. all i ever wanted was to be touched. the day my wife left, i just wanted to be touched. we argued, she left. my soulmate couldn't take the trauma anymore. she saw me go from superhero to little boy, and she couldn't handle that. i don't blame her. no other woman would love me that much. they did a study and found out that people are attracted to their ideal scents. watch it on naked news if you're curious. it's called pheromone dating. naked news also says women won't date men without jobs. which tells me, a: women are shallow and spoiled, and b: perry didn't care about jobs and money. yeah, soulmates! the only two people in the world like that. fucking unicorns. we didn't just love eachother unconditionally. we effortlessly redefined that. we were disgustingly googlesnorts over eachother. but people wanted us apart, and they won. that's no world i want to be a part of. i'm ashamed to associate with humans, so i speak alien, and i think i'll just be proud of being misunderstood until my wrist drains. how's that for a suicide note. did i impress hunter s thompson. this world says suicide is selfish. i say this world is selfish, and it leads to too many suicides. blame us for killing ourselves, but that's on you. take responsibility, and don't let one more dreamer die. we share this world. act like it. you might lose me soon, but learn your lesson, and listen to the next one. we aren't many left.

sobriety and subway

i don't have much money. i never have. nor do i have much luck with money. i am always being ripped off and cheated and just plain stolen from, and i'm so sick of it. i never had an easy chance. the other day, my mother gave me a little money. i went out and bought myself a subway sandwich, the way i like it, that i haven't gotten to have in a long long time. i also bought grandma a salad for which she didn't get her money's worth because she eats like an eighty year old bird. i like my subway sandwich made as a double meat, but the first 'meat' is the subway club, and the second 'meat' is the philly cheesesteak, together on one sandwich. it's good. usually costs me about fifteen bucks. it's not your 'five dollar footlong'. i brought it home, and was only able to eat half of it, because thanks to my drug addict uncle ripping me off, i'm going sober most of this month, and i cannot eat without my pot, because of all the trauma my body has been thru recently, which i couldn't pay my family to sympathize for. literally. i've tried. i offered once to pay them to act like they give a fuck about me. my mother rudely said no, and made it sound insulting for me to ask such a thing. but i wasted half of my special fifteen dollar sandwich, simply because i can't eat it. the rest of the money that my mother gave me was for my monthly supply of regular pot. which was nice of her. but the fact that i have no dealer to buy from. i wish i could make it legal as soon as possible, i hate feeling like a drug addict scumbag like my uncle, who smoked crack in our motel room for his birthday, which traumatized my wife and i, but i guess that's okay. at least my mother is somewhat displeased with my uncle, and wants him out of the house, but i don't see anything getting any better anytime soon. at least you can let this be an advocation for medicinal marijuana, which my uncle doesn't even understand that term, cause he's smoked the definition out of his head with too much crack. but i should be treated like a drug addict just like him, when i am nuthing like him. except in the eyes of my family, who constantly disrespect my namechange, and call me 'fred' all the time, as well as fred himself calling me 'jamal' and 'damone' all the time, like it's cool. now, i am a white boy, i have white skin, but what they do not know, is that if my mother was the black sheep of the family, i'm the black fuckin' hole. i do not exist, and i can prove that, just ask my family where i am. i'm so dark, you have to be blind to see me. i've disappeared into the black hole of poverty and neglect. and no one cares. but right now, that bullshyt doesn't matter. i just wish i could smoke some pot so i could eat something, and i really wish my sandwich was still good. i hate my fucking life, i hate this world, i hate my family, my family hates me, my wife hates me, and i hate myself for what i did to her. i want to die for the way i treated her. i pushed her away, and i never wanted to. you tell me what fucking choice i've had this whole time, over this past two years of my life being mercilessly destroyed by irresponsible people who don't even know they're hurting people. my life is over, my heart is dead, it can no longer be in love, so now my wrist is falling in love with that knife. i'll end this with a line from one of my old poems. 'hey, jesus, would you drop your healing blood, from your wrists down onto me'. i might read my poem wristblood later. and i'd also like to offer this opinion that no one would ever be brave enuph to agree with. but i think that the end of one's life should never be anyone's decision but their own. fuck you, murderers.

alien friends

you know how hard it is for me to find friends? people who share the same interests? here are my interests. i'm an evolutionist with thumbs who's obsessed with evolution. i'm an anarchist who's not interested in money or popular media. i'm a dreamer. i'm a quantum theoretical evolutionist... on acid. who, again, is obsessed with evolution, and wants to meet likeminded people. obsessed with evolution. so obsessed that they know how to spell. i know exactly what i like, and what i don't like. and i like finding the new stuff i like, and not being introduced to it by people i might not like at any point. i like elegance. high class, high style, taste. i'm not a man of wealth and taste. just taste. i like cleanliness, organization, i like desktop customization. i like people to comment on my screenshots, my writings, my taste in music. don't tell me what i should be doing, appreciate what i do. i love nudity and sex, i'm comfortable with myself, and want to be surrounded with others who are comfortable with themselves, and no longer waste time on people who aren't. i've wasted too much of my life on people who just don't care about anything. they're apathetic, uneducated, and overentertained. or, as i call it, underbrained. too much enterbrainment, are you getting me. i hate videogames, they are of zero interest to me. i don't like comic books or fiction books, but i sure do like the movies that come from them. i don't read much, but i do write alot, i think reading books is an unevolved form of education, but i like writing because conversation with disrespectful, uneducated idiots is an unevolved form of communication. i'll handle the writing, you handle the talking you're so good at. i'm sick of being interrupted. i have heroes, and i think everyone should have heroes. most of my heroes are either dead or fictional. but they were all extremely intelligent. i speak like an adult. i think anyone who asks me not to is a child, and i'll treat them like a fuckin' alien. i've been neglected and disrespected my whole life by these idiots who not just expect, but demand respect. well, it's a two way street. i know how i like to live, and the last girl who truly appreciated it... let's just say my family and my ex traumatized us, and because of the trauma, we hurt eachother too much. but we were in love till the day she left. people don't put enuph meaning into words anymore. like the word soulmate. how about this, we were completely googlesnorts over eachother. i never wanted to hurt her. i hate humanity because no one is intelligent enuph to give me reinforcing support, rather than opinionated and controlling 'constructive criticism'. and these people call themselves friends, and family. you're idiots who don't know what the fuck you're talking about, and should shut up and listen once in a while. i want someone who truly values the shyt i do. because i'm tired of wasting time on people who claim to with their words, but don't 'do the walkin' with their actions. i've always wanted to have a group of like ten or twenty close friends, who all enjoy being naked together, fucking eachother, or at least touching eachother, and don't have to just constantly bitch about shyt they don't like, but enjoy the shyt they do like, and just hang out in a big house together, enjoying the same food, and the same music, and i get to be the dj most of the time, but don't have to worry about not being the dj, because no one is going to play any stupid music i don't like. and it's not just a big house with ten or twenty of us, but there's more around the house, a whole community of people who all share the same goals. not just interests, but goals. we all wake up every morning at sunrise, go to the food house, smoke pot, have sex openly, talk about evolution, listen to good music, and i shouldn't even have to say 'good music', i wish i could just call it 'the tunes'. 'hey, let's play some tunes', or 'hey, turn the tunes down, the movie's starting'. i wish i could let other people choose the music. but everytime they do, they put on pop and rap, what the fuck is with you people, can't some of you have good taste in music? are you all really that scared of being 'unpopular'. cause i think that's unhealthy, and you're mental, and you're filling the world with idiots and clones of idiots, and we need to evolve, which i started off saying, maybe you should read this whole thing again and pay more attention, instead of just criticising in your head as you read this. i miss my lady, she would have thought this post was awesome. heroic even. she would have hugged me and smiled for it. people like her don't exist in this world. so, after reading all of that gibberish twice, let's see if the dream takes flight. happy birthday, newton.