memories of a faded time in your history

i'm reduced to this, starting to fade as the days grow thicker.

i keep thinking i have nothing new to offer anyone and i'm not worth recognising. if i could, i would alter my appearance after each time i ventured out in the world to seek companionship with fellow humans.

we're the same race. genepool.
it's ours. it is only 2 per cent away from a chimpanzees.
the fear of being lonely has never been bigger, i guess. we have too many social medias that tells us being alone is abnormal.

i'm sick of feeling undernourished. now when i won't allow my body to feel at ease and out of the stress i put on it by not eating enough i feel an enrichment of my inner life. but there is no way i'm able to communicate that to the others around me.

cellphones and broken bones. my heart bleeds for each time it beats. i no longer cut my nails or shave my legs. all meaning has frozen into glass as the sun that is my passion always lose heat at the end of all seconds.

longing for them moments.
you know what i mean, we no longer live in the moment that's about to pass.
parents, feed your children well with emotinal life. don't kill their curiosity just because it once killed some cats.
don't put helmets on them, don't think too much. let them climb trees and let them seek the opportunity to die a healthy death by being truely alive.

fish on the open sea, put my lentil in the pot. darkness forces the light to convince itself it's no longer needed. all alone in the place you call home, seek true passion by being ready and able.
feel up on the old things in spent lives. death has to arrive, just enjoy the time you won't spend dying. although, you're continuously taking steps towards the inevitable.
fear has too much ransom.

look at the television, it contains people. are they truely able to free you from loneliness.

i can't remember feeling more lonely than when christmas is upon this very country. this world. tellus, earth.
it's when i'm at my loneliest i feel like asking people to leave me alone. why is that. well d'oh, i'm vulnerable, constantly thinking about what i should have done instead of what i acted upon.

why is that, the moment when alcohol hits you, you can't even remotely assume how it's like to be sober? even the slightest amounts make you forget that sobriety exist.
all is not but vague ideas. christmas is the time of year i'm at my worst. worst is of course defined by what you think of it. is it my worst or is it my better? am i closer to something more real now or is the bliss of 'fake it to make it' genuine enough to let me come across as an impressive person?

reality has too many variables, and people seem to be more manic than the amount i can take. x-mas has no value anymore and next year, when i'm rich and famous, i'll spend it in another hell than this. i'll climb onto the top of the bottom of the sea and search for spirits that haunt the feeling of not fitting in.

i am my own enabler and my abilities go to such waste. the value i at some point posess is wasted on depression and feelings of not being worth even the smallest amount of effort you could possibly think of.

i just want to drink.
and shrink.
and not think.

i wish i was an intellectual.

only reading and seeking will get me there.

i'm too much alone to even keep in touch with the oldest of friends.
i'm bored but i don't admit to it.
i'm depressed and keep getting drunk in whatever manner suits my freetime best.
i have some ideas but i never develop them due to lack of confidence and too much conciousness.
i think i'm going to get better, but act upon the oposite habits.
i change for the worse and it's pleasing in its own sick way.
i'm sick of being sick and only getting sicker, but i'm nowhere near the energylevels of a cow chewing long dead grass.
only barely alive and only barely able to recognise that i'm still here.
that i still keep taking shallow breaths, that i keep hearing laughter and glance by happy faces, towards the end of all seasons i miss them the most, regretting i didn't do more out of it.

i'm just so sick of it all and i'm pretty certain i will no longer take it.

it's way passed my bedtime of eternal sleep, but still i see no real reason for taking my last shallow breath in these very moments.

i am alive but i lack the most vital nutrients for substaining life itself.

the cure against all odds.

steep hills and rotten bones.
we'll eat you alive, you won't feel a thing - numb as the asphalt around your heart.

if i make it through this, i will carve my name into the stars by changing gravity and all of natures laws, because against all odds, i picked up a fight.

no, it's not a gift. it's common sense.

i feel like a mutant that has all the wrong genes playing important parts.

i want to get smarter. extract nutrients from words, books, people and places. lectures.

feed me whatever pill you're on, if you're still alive it obviously helps.