No sound. Tv's off. Life is on or is it? Mistakes abound. Everywhere. Never ending. Kill me or this pain. Is it real? Is it false? Nothing's real anymore. The thoughts in my head are deceiving. Are they my thoughts? Who knows? What if there really is someone else in my head? How do I reconcile that. Screaming. Screaming pain. Dreams? No dreams just endless fucking misery. Kill me or this pain. No ambition. Stinking filth hole. Off to work. New me. Different me. Put on the mask. Entertain. Dance, puppet dance. Everything is all right. Return. Reality washes over. Stab me or this pain. It's all the same. The makers of our own beds. Society cannot fix me. Nothing's wrong with me, just existing. The meaning of life: to exist. To live until you die. Bare minimum. That's all I'll do. The path of least resistance. Mock me. Hate me. It's all the same. No faith, just awake. Beating my head in. But nothing's there. What's inside? Nothing and nothingness. Hollow. Then where does it all come from? Residual energy from day long past. Already dead, just twitching. Kill me or this life. Lies and lies all around until there is no way to know reality or what could be considered truth. Or is the truth in the lie. The lie will sustain or kill. Nothing is worth living over. "Until breathing just passes the time and we all just get old and die. When breathing's just a waste of breathe and LIVING'S JUST A WASTE OF DEATH!" Why can't I die? Sweet feeling sweep over me. A feeling anything feeling, especially suicide. "Suicide is painless. It comes with many changes?" Painless. More emptiness but not. Perpetual fix to all problems. No problems in death. Just nothingness. Like now, only living and realizing that there is nothing. What happens after death, after decomposition, after new insects and plants sprout from the minerals of me? Is it nothing? Another chance? NO! Not again the burning times of this wretched soul. Just nothing. Let there be nothing. An end. Closure. I don't belong to this universe. I don't belong to this world. I don't belong anywhere but nowhere. Still with nothing inside, I'll keep on living until something kills me. What will it be? What can it be? Nothing's wrong with me. It's all just fiction. I'm not even really here. I don't have a soul and I don't exist. Then what am I? Why do I have this body? Why am I made of matter when I am supposed to be nothing? Disembowel me and see that I've digested nothing. Life feeds us things but what do we do with it? Where does it go? Bottomless pit of emptiness. Babbling babbling brook. STUPID FEELINGS and thoughts in my head telling me that I need to look the other way and find what I'm missing but what is the point of thinking when nothing is accomplished with thought. What action can I take? What is action? Movement but my arms are heavy and my legs are not working my heart is only beating because it is controlled by my mind which does not work. It just thinks and tells me what to do when there's nothing to be done and falls silent when the train is barreling down the tracks at me and the siren says 'RUN' but I only stare at the bright light because it's the only thing that I can see. It's bright and warm. Too late. Tragedy. So it's over. White slate, blank page, empty me. Dead inside, dying outside. End it all and make it so. Voyeur of the living souls. Look at them run, see how they run. Up and down, in suits, in clothes, in fur, in fang, in blood, in bone. Yet I am standing still. Blank expression. Looking forward at the movement bu my retina is fixed straight looking at nothing. Is there a god? Why do I have retinas? Or do I mean pupils? Or is my mind so degenerated that I don't know the difference? Even my tears aren't salty? Isn't that the point? To have salt in your tears? To have a saline solution? To have water with something in it? Or is water by itself okay? It sustains life but WHAT'S THE POINT WHEN IT COMES OUT OF MY EYES THAT CAN'T SEE? No expression. Staring straight forward with no expression. Staring with only thoughts that do nothing or is it really me. Is it me or is it you who does not exist? I don't exist and you don't exist so what if … Nothing…….Nothing's there. I love pokemon and digimon. Random thoughts. Pertaining to nothing. THERE IS SO MUCH NOTHING I CAN'T STAND IT! That's what my live is. Nothing. A lot of nothing compacted into a tiny ball that bounces with the illusion of change but someone once said that his life went full circle. It went around and around. spinning like a wheel. Where is the terminus? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!? I don't know that words that come out of my head. They just happen and then like an idiot, I realize. Oh wait. I don't even know what I'm talking about. Stupid stupid reality. Free write but I've hit backspace more times than the eiffuel…eiful…eiful….eiffel…..tower…I don't even know how to spell that word….three times and the same keys were hit. Rewind, play again. Over and over. Is there a skip in the tape, a scratch on the record or did the matrix just error. I'm laughing in my mind because I realize that I am hysterical! I'm not even using my own voice in this mind it this head. What is my voice. La la la. Still didn't make a sound. Oh, there is nothing again. Nothing is not existing so what am I? I am nothing. Kill this fucking pain or me? Is there signfigance…significance…which is right? I don't know anymore. Engage your brain and focus. Like a camera. Put on your happy face. Enter the role and lie like you always do to get away from me which is you. You don't have any friends. Companions. Nakama. Which is really interesting kanji. Learned it in an elementary school in Japan. Japan was great but it was terrible. Ask Sabrina. Evil devil. Sun's too bright. What was I talking about? Loneliness? Am I lonely or just so empty that other people need to occupy my space so that the matter that I hold makes sense under a microscope?  Some people die. THERE ARE DYING PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD THE WANT TO LIVE! There are starving children in Africa that would love to have this Big Mac. Juicy and full of little things that kill you when you have too much. But I don't like big macs. I do like little things that will kill me. Here, kid have the big mac. Let me die and let me starve and you sit in front of this computer and do something meaningful with your life. I'm done. Game over, man. Do I feel better? Oh parting is such sweet sorrow.I know sorrow. Is that an N? What am I talking about. Nothing. Just stupid babbling and rambling and LIVING IS JUST A WASTE OF DEATH! I'm a fine candidate for rape. You know getting raped would be great and humiliating. Is it rape if you're willing? At least one half is willing. Oh but weren't you supposed to give that to Ken? Stop obsessing. Boob. Haha, boob. An juvenile friend of Foamy. Idiot.