Slow

Everything buzzes in your head. You can't just turn everything off. It's not that easy and let's face it, absolute silence is boring.

But it goes without saying it is one of those ideas that simply catch my attention easily.

It wasn't too hard to understand the psychology of it all. It wasn't hard to set most things into an automatic response. It wasn't hard to just turn down the volume on everything once you have enough awareness of the source.

I remember feeling heavy, sluggish, slow. Everything became so mechanical, so manual. Ideas stop coming to you when you stop bothering to process them.

In, automated response, out. That was all to it. And it was boring. It was repetitive work. It was in every and all ways, a robot. And that is exactly why it was dangerous.

I remember the ideas I had at the time. The thought processes that I had. But I know it wasn't completely silent, it couldn't be. Not at such a short time at least. But knowing myself and my nature, I let the volume rise again.

It is fun to do what I do. But at the end of the day, I sure ain't going to do something as pointless as that again.

Alone

I loathe being idle. Being lazy, sure. Idle, no. When I am alone, I keep my head down, concentrating into work, random time wasting activities, sink into a fantasy world, but never ever idle.

More often than not these days, I am alone. And when you're alone and idle at the same time, they start creeping in. They crawl out from the recess of your mind and start to claw against the insides of your skull. If you were to look underneath it, I'm sure you'll find the scratch marks.

And so I preoccupy myself. Overwhelmingly, I will always be engaged in something, be it pointless or helpful. Keep the senses busy. Can't spare too much mental capacity if your senses are bombarded.

Of course I can't keep this up forever. Who can? One needs to sleep after all. Oh how I loathe having to sleep. Having to keep your mind clear of thoughts just enough to sleep without having them crawl out is not impossible. Just so incredibly hard.

I toss and turn at night because I can't fall asleep. I can't keep my head quiet. It's all voluntary of course. To let it quiet down without arming myself to the teeth is just madness. Though all things considered, it never helps now does it?

The moment your defences go down, it floods over. It drowns out everything. It almost bleeds its way out of your head. Its almost, poetic, the way it pulls you down into itself. Almost like art. Almost like dying.

Sleep is the only time I ever have a risk of meeting the caged things that sharpen their nails while in wait. Best to tire out the body until sleep is almost instant. They can't come out if they don't have the time to do so see?

I don't hate loneliness. Sometimes the company that is yourself is a good thing. Sometimes, just sometimes, you just want to be alone. To reflect. To think. To process. But other times, loneliness is like the food the creatures absolutely love.

It's not impossible to feel lonely in a crowd. It's not impossible to feel lonely with a friend. It's definitely not impossible to feel lonely even with those you are familiar with.

I don't think I live on an island. Nor do I think I'm stuck in a well. Perhaps the best metaphor would be to be inside a bubble? Even with others, no one penetrates the bubble. No one really gets through. Converse, participate, work, it all is possible. But the only company I have in that bubble is myself.

What do you call this bubble really? I mean really, what is this bubble? Is it personal space? Is it the false self I show to others? Is it my active process of not letting anyone dig into my head? What the hell is this bubble that stops me from connecting to people? I'm not even sure if its made by myself, or just a product of my nature.

Admittedly I am terrified. Terrified of tearing away this bubble. Terrified to let someone into my head. Terrified that if someone has the key to it all, they would take what that is me and leave. They say we stopped checking for monsters under our bed because we realized they were inside of us. Maybe I'm also just terrified that if someone comes in, they would run away at the sight of it.

It takes courage to break the bubble at all. It takes courage to be so vulnerable, so open to attack. It take courage to be at risk of being hurt from falling down, of not being protected from the dangers of everything else. It takes courage to even filter the things that enter. Everything so carefully examined, observed, before I can even allow it to worm its way in slowly. It takes courage to have someone else in here with me, courage that I don't have.

But I can't deny that I would very much like not to be alone.

Burst

The bleeding starts instantly. It's never like the movies is it. Neither is it depicted that a gun wound would hurt like all hell usually.

The chase is beautiful. Sure, when the blood gets pumping everything flows out a little quicker. There is time, there is time.

The target is all that matters. As long as you ain't dead when you arrive, you will survive in the long run.

Feet, don't give up on me. I'm so close, so close. I might not have enough blood to last me but I surely have enough adrenalin.

Last sprint, last sprint. I'm almost there, almost there..

State

Sometimes it is about indifference. I think not about other things. Everything seen with a 'so what?' attitude, actively pushing away all forms of care towards that event, object or whatnot. Apathy.

Sometimes it is about neutrality. I would neither defend nor oppose both side. Watch from the sidelines, moderate things if need be, but remain uninvolved as a whole. I have no problem with pointing out the need of a discussion, but I wouldn't join in.

Sometimes it is about doublethink. I would argue both to and for both sides of the discussion. Everything has its pros and cons, and for me at least, it is always better to know than to now know both sides of it all.

Sometimes it is about objectivity. To consider all points without bias and preconceptions, making a decision that is solid. I would have problems at times of course, no one is absolutely non-biased after all.

And yet at the end of the day, it is within human nature to be subjective. Damn.

Happiness

Much too often I try to see things from more than one point of view. To walk in another's shoe for a mile inside my head. To think how another would think if they were a little more uptight, relaxed, irritable, mellow and so on.

I would think it has become a part of me to consider the views of others most of the time. To make decisions that gives the least amount of displeasure to others.

But it doesn't mean I have to appease everyone of course. I am still living for myself and in that regard, I will always think of my survivability. From this stemmed my apathetic nature I believe.

Cognitive dissonance. That's what you get when you care too much about everything and not care too much about everything at the same time. While I wont deny I like both of it for its merits, the option to just 'get both of it' isn't exactly the brightest I would believe. Not when prioritizing is possible at least.

I don't find my way of thinking weird or even abnormal. It's very average really. I am the priority to myself. I am capable of altruistic behaviour but in the end, my priority is to myself. Are we not of such a thinking manner?

I can never understand living for someone or something. I don't understand living for the sake of god, your parents or even a loved one. I just don't. I can conceive of the highest rank another can gain from me is to live With them, but never for them. As far as the pyramid of power goes, there is nothing at the highest position that caries the value of infallibility. I am second, and I can conceive of myself and others being wrong.

I can admit I have a fear for the unknown. It is this fear that drives me so hard to gain control about myself as much as possible. It is this fear that has pushed myself away from many things one can do in life. I can admit I am a coward.

Control, to me at least, is my sedation. It is my limit. It keeps me in check. My emotions can cause me to behave in ways I know not when they are tested, and so I learn control. It keeps me from boiling over and ripping off someone's throat. It stops me making irrational decisions. It stops me harming myself and those around me.

But often is it not the case whereby emotions are the hardest thing one can control? This, I would think, is another reason of my apathetic nature.

You see, I don't remember being born apathetic. I have always been a little sensitive. Easy to respond to what others have to say about me. I guess I still am. But at one point, I realize that what people can say to me hurts, and it can hurt very badly. Emotions are hard to deal with. It's hard to rationalize certain feelings away sometimes. So at one point, I guess I just learned to at least try and stop caring. Something that you do not care about can't affect you after all.

And yet, it never works that easily does it? Because I still care, and it all still affects me, I just tell myself it doesn't. Because not everyone speaks the way I do. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. But people lie. People exaggerate. People hurt me. And they do it without knowing it. But eventually, like most things, I learn. I learn that it is very much alright to let it affect me for that one instant before apathy kicks in. Emotion will always be faster than logic. It is a biological limitation. No point wallowing about it. Just keep working on not caring. Don't let the little things bother you.

I used to not think much about disappointment. I wouldn't mind asking for things knowing the answer is likely a 'no'. I would ask anyway. There is always a chance right? But at some point, you just learn to stop trying so hard. In the case of disappointment, I'm alright in fearing it, but I am mostly just tired. I'm tired for trying to get things to go my way. I'm tired of asking for things I will never get. I'm tired of trying so hard. I don't have many disappointments in life, simply because I don't try to do anything anymore. To realize this when I was a child was for me to grow up seeing motivation as a queue to give up.

I stopped trying to be happy. Failure in trying to be happy makes a person sad. To stop trying is to stop getting sad. In a way, to stop risking is to stop getting failure. I remember feeling numb. I still remember it. The funny thing about life is that when you have nothing to live or die for anymore, everything starts feeling plastic. Short term goals and self preservation can always provide for enough reason to live, but it doesn't feel the same. Not the same as spending your life looking for happiness, or even experiencing it. Maybe I'm just disappointed too easily.

When you stop trying to be happy, your life starts losing its meaning. The end result is often feeling negative anyway. Once upon a time I wondered, is this the reason why man has always tried so hard to attain happiness? Is it just to fill in the gap in their lives that otherwise would just be a spiral of sadness? I don't see the meaning. Not really.

But I can understand the idea of joy. I can understand the idea of being content. I can conceive of a possibility of enjoying myself, being content, even happy. That in itself is enough to keep me away from suicide, legal issues aside of course. But to be able to conceive of such a thing is to be disappointed to not be having it. Cognitive dissonance is a pain.

It is said that happiness is not something that comes to you, you have to search for it. And it makes sense to me. If you want something, get it. No point sitting about waiting for it to fall onto your lap. But it could be that my thought process has been the way its been for so long that I cannot conceive of what makes me happy anymore. What do I enjoy? What makes me content? What brings me happiness? Every idea that I can think of immediately has a flaw that would make me feel something negative. I literally cannot conceive of something that can make me genuinely happy.

I don't get truly happy very often. I find it hard to recall of many incidents of being happy at all. There are many reasons to be happy, many ways to achieve it, but I simply cannot think of any specific thing that applies to myself.

It is said that the idea of being happy only once you get something is fundamentally flawed. Considering the greed in human nature, I feel inclined to agree. Getting something would only make you want more and more and more and eventually you feel more disappointment than happiness. Happiness is not materialistic, and it makes sense.

I can understand the idea behind it, I can conceive of things that seem to work with the average human being, but I can't seem to find anything that would work for me. Perhaps it is the nature of myself from my past experience, but when I fail to find something for quite a while, I stop trying. I don't recall making a conscious decision about it. I just noticed that at one point, I'm not really trying anymore.

Happiness is like an unattainable goal for me at this point. I no longer know what can truly make me happy anymore. I stopped looking the day I noticed I didn't know what I was looking for.

Hunger

Cause when I wake up it's never the right time. Not for most things and definitely not for this.

It's really not the odd hours that matter, but the state of mind itself. Often it is the case whereby one never notes its existence until things begin to waste. Funny how things are always noticed too late.

Is it because the conscious mind fails to process the idea of sleep? Is it because of the routines one has from waking up onwards?

But as the day goes on it starts to affect you. It wears you down, starts poking into your head, your thought process, your ideas. It feeds on yourself and pushes you to do something about it.

Determined souls would will it away. Yet the ones who fall are often times the ones who survive. Is this pride?

Self preservation can always be suppressed, even completely pushed away by higher brain function. Is it strange to want to go beyond the norm at times?

The human body functions too much assuming the case of a primitive world. Lifestyle changes. Technology changes. Society changes.

So spare some time and indulge in your body's request. You can't stop eating forever.

Jealousy

In an instant I can feel my blood boil beyond the point of evaporation.

What? Why? When it Does occur to me, rational thought still escapes me. It is beyond understanding that I would process the idea of it in such a way.

To notice that which is there once someone has pointed it out is not unique, not uncommon. And yet it grounds me up like coffee beans that it is so.

It's never about how you want to feel, but the thoughts of it all. Calm thoughts. Calm thoughts.

Vanilla ice cream that licks my belly would still fail to bring down my burning blood. I feel so wound up I could break.

Many a case I would rely on my memories to fade, but one has a feeling this would stay for a little while more.

Obsession

They come to me much like a sudden spark one sees when knocking two metal objects together. Not impossible, just improbable.

I can't explain where the fuel for it comes from, I never can. But it drives me mad with involuntary repetitive thoughts. My brain almost goes into a loop, again and again and again.

My sanity is questioned to and by myself. Is this too strange a thing?

I would crawl through mountains of paper to find that one scribble.

I would travel halfway around the world the find that one thing.

I would let my fingers bleed before I would pause to think about the repercussions.

And when it all ends, when it all reaches a state where everything stops spinning, everything reaches a state of calm.

Metaphorical wind that rushes past my metaphorical hair and metaphorical body, I fall through a metaphorical sky and it all fades away.

Theater

I am the audience, director and actor of this world. Let us do a play.

I think little of any theme that is too central. Far too much attention has been given to classifications than to the quality of work. A play need not limit itself in such a way.

I find it not a pity only I would be able to enjoy this. Some things in life simply cannot be shared no matter how you want to. No one is to blame.

Trampolines and swinging things, breathing fire from the mouth of man. Water tanks and people cheering. Yet here I am alone, the one and only audience.

A magic trick! I sure hope it serves to please. Not many things I can do but I can surely try. At least this trick, I know, is far superior that those shown before.

Tales of tragedy and pain and lust. Stories of betrayal, guilt and war. Sparks fly.

I am the audience, director and actor of this world. Let us do a play.

One

Sometimes I plug myself into the world simply because I want to hear white noise.

The hustle and bustle of the traffic and people that walk by. I would gladly sit in a mall for hours on end just to watch. Beats paying for a movie.

As the earth rotates to leave the sun, I would watch as the majority of people are trying to commute home. The food stalls open in convenient corners, strategically enticing people.

Because I rather observe people that to speak with them, it would still mean I have to eject myself into society to make it possible. Such hassle is the world in its current state.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I was omnipresent. How beautiful do you think the world would be if you could see it all at once?

Billions of people interacting with one another, one giant organism. Earth. We would see it as it is if we could see it all.