Doorway into chaos
If anyone has found this corner of my mind that managed to
translated into text, you might want to know about me. Oh,
I love telling people about myself. I do.
I am 16. I am a guy. I live in Seattle. I go to highschool
and my favorite sport is skiing. I hate asperagus.
I was going to write my history, but it would take too
long. Maybe another time. It does help me to go over it
sometimes thought, as I find clues to why my mind has ended
up as the twisted, volitile mess that it is.
Hell, I sound like I'm writing to other people. But then
again, it's public for a reason. I guess I'll throw you
face first into what little of my fleeting ideologies and
reason can make it into this diary. I'll throw myself in,
while I'm at it.
I started writing this in wordpad a few minutes ago when I
realized it might be better to put it in one of these, so
that I could compile such ideas and observations in one
place. It goes as follows:
I need to decide something. It's a tough desicion, and it
will doubtless effect me for the rest of my life. The
hardest part of the desicion is to figure out what exactly
the decicion is. It's an emotional one, and my emotions
are never concrete. They swirl and intertwine and endlessly
collide with each other. But I must make the decicion
anyway, because this war in my head is tiring. The chaos
doesn't afford a good environment for more worthwhile
thoughts to take place.
And I know what I want. It isn't a decision, really. What I
need to know is how to get to my destination.
It leaves off right there. I didn't finish. I never finish
what I write; my mind changes too quickly.
This ties in directly with an e-mail I wrote. It's a rant,
I admit, but rants are often the most articulate things
anyone manages to force from their mouth. Here's part of
All my friends at school, my parents, my brother, my
teachers. They're all people, and the things they have in
common are all the things I hate the most about them. The
thing I hate the most is when they bring out those same
things in me. When they make me act like them. Simple,
oblivious and low. But the thing is that they don't make
me. I do it. I hate myself for not being able to control
myself like that. I should have more strength.
I have to realize what I am, and not what I would or could
be. I have to kill those weak, pitiful parts of me, but I
can't. It's not working. I don't know what to do, because I
still hate them. Sometimes I wonder if I should accept them
and go with them, but I can't. Not after what I know. Not
after what I've been through. It's like purgatory, between
the darkness and the light. I'm looking up into the
darkness, but the light won't let go.
Yes, it's long, and I doubt you read it. I'm amazed you got
this far. No one cares enough to read this far. They can't
comprehend what I say; their minds won't accept this blow
to reality. But that's ok, because I don't care about them.
So, I want darkness. I want the path that my human nature
will not allow me to tread. It's so hard, you know? It's
just awful trying to will yourself to do something every
part of your brain screams not to do. Or at least it was,
back when I was a drone. But I've killed so much of myself,
there's little left to stop me now. It's like a forest. My
darkness is like loggers. They kill of the trees, they kill
the animals and the bushes. They let the land decay and rot
until it could not even support the origional plants if
they were put there again. But you see, the plants hold on.
There are the weeds, the grass. They manage to stay. You
try and stomp them out, but they have roots, and you can't
kill all the roots. But I try. They can't take over again,
but they annoy me to no end. They make me hate myself
because I haven't achieved what I set out to do. But it's
so hard. I need to be stronger.
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