Intoxicants, narcotics, self-help methods that result in something that we should not look forward to. Bleeding induced by one own's will, bullets in heads, babies in bathwater. Somewhere, an eight year old is struggling. She's older than me, I'd have failed long before. Domestic crimes resulting in police calls at three in the morning while six drunk kids sit in a van waiting for all that shit to calm down. People not caring, people caring too much. Growing on each other. Dictionaries grow in terror with each year, signals are mixed uncaringly, old friends are putting knifes in new friend's backs. Sure, some can smile. I can too. And I don't mean to rain on parades, but how do some people smile before they go to sleep? How can some people smile when they have time to think, when their day is coming to an end? Is it chemicals, is it knowledge? What the fuck is so different between me and them? It would be terrible, but why aren't more people as sad and angry as I've found myself to be these past years? I can be happy, people can help me. But really. Life is not a great thing. It doesn't even qualify. I mean, you know, fuck suicide or dying in general. I will survive as long as I can; I'm gonna beat whatever wants me to lose until I lose. But really, I can promise enjoying myself fully.

I want someone to tell me something. I want everyone to tell me something. What makes you smile? What helps you wake up? What helps you fall asleep? Because it's hard, at times, to do those things and I've found it happens in me more than my friends. Or maybe they're just as secretive. And on terms of friends, how do you put faith in someone to call them one? People talk, I don't hear them, but they do. I know it.
Fuck, I don't know. Maybe I'm just killing time. I guess I know I am; no one reads this shit but computers. For some reason, they don't seem to care at all though.

It's not the same as it was, it wasn't what it appeared to be, it wasn't what we thought. We are always wrong, it seems. Maybe I'm just not listening when it turns out we were right. I'm doing something that worries me tonight, but the mere excitement over-rules the stress. I will simply eat. The animals are staring with razor sharp glares. Don't look, don't know, don't think. We shouldn't ever think. Thinking is the process of opening doors, fear takes this as a welcome. We shouldn't have ever started, it's started wearing away the way it was planning. We stand in oncoming traffic on a constant. They stare us down, machines stare us down. What piece of steel should be afraid of a human? What human would be behind that thing, it seems a monster. Once we have taken the wheel, the control is ours. No second guesses, just instinct. Too bad; some lack. What makes us tick, really? Who wound us up at conception, who drew the blue prints for our life? Intricate, but poor.
We wonder, but do you wonder why we question answers? They're there for us to accept, like it or not, not to question. We can't have chances; they aren't ours to take, but we can't take back what's our's when it leaves us. We are here, or we are gone, we are not fear. There are no open doors. Just the sky and the water. We fear it, but why? Fear itself actually isn't all that intimidating of a concept, but I fear what is fearful is my eyes because of how my eyes take it in, how my mind takes that and makes reasons. Reason is thought's byproduct, fear is reason's. We shouldn't ever think. I imagine I'm on a path, here. I imagine I'm burning it as I go.