Meat

I hate being the fat kid.  Everyone looks at me, teases me and laughs at me.  Did I say I hate it – ’cause I do.

I go home one night and my family is already at the table eating dinner.  That’s ironic because I’m hungry and fat.  Do I keep saying that I’m fat – ’cause I hate being fat.  There doesn’t seem to be a lot of food left.  I groan noticeably.

“Jack, you know we have to leave some food for the prophet”.

There they go again with their mumbo jumbo religion.  I’m still a kid here but somewhere else I’m an adult and I’ve grown out of their religious beliefs.  I decide to take them on.  I look at my father.

“No one cares about your beliefs.  It’s all garbage.  I’ll eat what I want.  You didn’t even leave enough for me anyway.”

My dad stares at me.  He looks me right in the eye.

“There’s a bigger world out there dad, “ I’m responding to the look, “You live in such a closed community.  No one gives a rat’s arse about your religion or your prophet.”

My mother looks at me in shock, as if I’ve become the devil.  I know what it is.  I said “rat’s arse” and she hates swearing.  Goddamn, does she really think that “arse” is a bad swear.  Still, she looks upset and I stare at her right back.  It’s not my fault if she’s so sensitive.

I eat my fill, which is a lot.  The prophet can starve for all I care.  I’m getting fatter I think, if that’s possible, but who cares, right?  I mean we’re all different; nobody’s perfect.  People have to accept that we come in all shapes and sizes.  I can be fat.  It doesn’t make me bad, right?

I go to bed and have strange dreams.  The next evening we’re all back at the table again ’cause it’s dinner time.  I’m surprise; truly surprised.  My mom’s cooked some really big steaks.  There’s enough for everyone, even for their stupid prophet.  Okay, maybe we’re getting somewhere here.

I feel pretty sick.  I can’t explain it.  I feel weak and vulnerable.  It’s like something’s missing.  I’m numb all over, especially in my torso.

Next evening and dinner again.  Great whopping steaks again; delicious and plenty for the prophet.  Still feel under the weather.  I seem to be getting weaker.  Don’t know how to explain it.

It’s Friday and we’re having dinner with friends of my parents.  They have a son and daughter.  Daughter is two years younger than me.  She never looks at me ’cause I’m fat.  Strange, but tonight she’s eyeing me.  The adults keep talking and we go with the “kids” to talk.

Suddenly their daughter’s all over me.  We’re in her room.  How did we get there?  Where are the other kids?  She’s kissing me; can’t keep her hands off me.  What’s going on?  Not that I don’t like it, but what about being fat?

Now my head’s in her chest.  She wants to go further but uh oh.  Daddy’s calling her.  He’s coming towards the bedroom door.  All bets are off.

I feel more attractive but why?  At home, shirt off and I’m looking down at my usually flabby stomach.  Wait, what?  It’s pretty flat.  I’m thin.  My god, I’m actually thin.  How fantastic.  But what happened and how?

Then it dawns on me.  The sick feeling and better dinners… mmmh delicious steak.  The steak is me.  Mum’s getting back at me because of the religion and my so called swearing.  I want to feel angry but I’m not, as long as she lets me live.  I don’t mind if I’m thin. I decide not to eat myself anymore.  Mum’s okay about that and she makes me a side dish.  I’m not as hungry anymore.  I mean I don’t want to eat part of me, but the other’s can.

Then I wake up.  I’m not with my parents anymore.  I’m the adult I always knew I was. I’m fat again.

Anti-reality deluxe – freebie for a limited time

Get it while it’s hot… or not… when the app store gets around to updating the pricing to nada for a time:

Edit: 6 April 2009 – Well it was good whilst it lasted… or not…  Time to add to my billions again *in debt * so the app is no longer free.

Personality no. 35 creates Anti-Reality Deluxe (rest of me weeps)

Okay, I’ve done it now – an actual paid app for the iphone/ipod touch.  Before you torture me with insults (and believe me I’m used to it – except for personality no. 23, who is a bit sensitive and cries on a whim), it’s only being sold for pocket change (99 cents in the US store and equivalents elsewhere) – assuming you still have pockets in this economically catastrophic depressing recession.  For that small amount, you get these extras:

- four exclusive new stories that are only available in this app
- automatically bookmarks your place in the book for when you return
- customize your experience: choose your ebook background (white, parchment or cardboard) and text color

But wait!  There’s more!  You’ll get the app, a set of steak knives, the nose picker, foot rubber, thong cream, brain enhancer, backdoor vacuum and hair deodorizer all for the one low price!  Eh, who am I kidding?  Forget it – how am I supposed to become a billionaire with all of that?  Times are tough.  Just the app (there goes my career as a salesman…)

If you want  it, it’s here:

If you don’t, just join the rest of humanity and ignore this post.  As always, it’s your choice.

Worry

Oh my, help me please.....

There are two possibilities. I can worry or not worry. If I worry, I am in pain all of the time. I think of the worst. It’s agony. If I don’t worry then I might be okay, but I won’t anticipate what might happen. Then I may be caught unprepared and there will be a lot of pain.

Maybe if I worry then I can prepare for the worst and put myself in a position where I don’t suffer as much. On the other hand, if the worst happens then I will be in pain anyhow and maybe there’s nothing that I can do to avoid it.

Problem is that I can’t be certain whether or not preparing for the worst will put me in any better position. This means that, by not worrying, I am taking a risk that I could have done something whilst I still had the chance. But this all comes at a great cost. If I begin to think about the worst then I freeze. This is a problem because the fear takes an almighty grip on me and I might fail because of the fear.

I don’t want to fail because of fear as that is a self fulfilling prophecy.

Why am I in so much pain? Why can’t I relax? More importantly, why can’t I just live in peace?

Every day I have to go through this. I can never be certain that bad things won’t happen. It’s like living on the edge of a precipice. What can I do?

Okay, I get it. I’m supposed to just say that the worst doesn’t always happen. If I keep saying that then I can wait and see. If something bad happens then the pain will only crystallise at that point in time. In the meantime I can live in peace.

I’ll try that. I just can’t stop thinking about the risk of not preparing though. There must be something I can do.

I understand now. I feel that I have to be in control because I will be blamed if something bad happens that causes pain to my family. They’ll say that I caused it. I should have managed things better. I didn’t try hard enough. I failed. I am to blame. That would be very hurtful on top of the pain. I would never intend for that to happen.

I guess the problem is that I am fallible. I make decisions all the time that I think could be of detriment in bad times. For example, if I spend money now, I can be blamed later if I lose my job. They could say that I should have saved more and managed my money better. They would say that the pain and suffering is my fault.

If others didn’t depend on me then I could live with whatever happens. I just don’t want to be the reason for other people’s pain. Especially the pain of my children. I don’t want them to be hungry, for us to have nowhere to live, for me to lose them, for them to be taken away from me, screaming and crying and wriggling violently to free themselves of their captors.

It would break me.

Yeah

He needed to escape. He was running away from something or someone. It was all about keeping himself occupied with distractions. They seemed real enough and, on occasions, he actually thought that they were productive, but this was far from the truth.

That day it became particularly challenging for him. He was sitting at home. It was his day off. He hated having time off. That made it difficult to survive. He had asked, then begged them to let him keep working.

“I don’t understand,” his boss has said calmly, “Everyone needs a holiday.”

An argument followed, but he couldn’t win. He knew that they were getting suspicious, perhaps even thinking that he was crazy. No one could understand why he wouldn’t take time off. In the end, he had bowed to the pressure, especially since it was a statutory obligation for them to give him a break.

He was thankful to have been distracted for a moment with that recollection of events, but his mind was starting to empty itself of thoughts. He was left alone, sitting there at the table.

The demons began to swirl around him. He needed something to do, but what? Could he do something with his computer again?

He grabbed his computer and launched his internet browser. In a few moments he was scrolling down the pages of his favourite sites. He followed links from the sights to get more information on stories that he was interested in. He was absorbed and time flowed easily. Nothing was a concern for him except for the moment. His browser was littered with tabs. He sipped his coffee and remained calm.

Then, as he closed them, there were fewer tabs in his browser. He was running out of time. There were four then three. He spent a lot of time on the last two sites and managed to follow several links from them into new tabs. Finally, his browser was empty. There were no sites left.

He began to feel agitated. He felt back in the present and that was not a good feeling. He looked through his browser’s bookmarks frantically trying to find new sites to visit. He caught a few here and there that he hadn’t looked at for a while but then he was at a loss. What to do?

He could feel the pressure. Maybe he would go back to sleep. He needed not to be conscious. He couldn’t be by himself with his thoughts or he would die.

The demons were back. They were quickly getting into his head. “You are not alive” they groaned, “Who are you?” . His head began to swirl. He didn’t feel real. He couldn’t go on. He didn’t know how to go on.

All of a sudden he was looking outside of his body at himself. Who was he? Why was he here? It was very distressing to have those thoughts. It was as if his body was a lump of flesh that he had to drive to continue, but he was no longer in the driver’s seat. It also became excruciating for him to imagine that, even if he were back at the controls, he could actually go on. It was too hard. How could he, a person without any identity keep pushing forward. He was sinking into an abyss.

“I’ve got to DO SOMETHING” he finally thought. The demons were taking over and he couldn’t let them.

He looked around, trying desperately to find something to do? What can I do? What do I enjoy?

It was a difficult realisation that he didn’t enjoy anything. He realised again that even the things he did were merely distractions to keep the demons at bay.

Resonance

I

“Let me out of here.”
“First you must answer the question.”
“I keep telling you, I don’t know.”
“You do. Tell me.”
“I don’t. What do you want from me?”
“Just the answer.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you can’t leave.”
“What am I doing here?”
“Answering the question.”
“I don’t even remember what the question is. Can you tell me again?”
“I want the answer.”
“I don’t know the answer. How can I know it if you won’t repeat the question?”
“The answer please.”
“What am I doing here?”
“Answer now!”
“Where am I?”
“My patience is running low.”
“I’ve lost my bearings. “
“Get on with it.”
“Who am I?”
“I am not waiting any longer!”
“What am I?”
“Give me the information I want.”
“I’ve got a headache. I can’t remember anything.”
“You need to respond correctly.”
“I can’t figure it out. Is this a war? Have I been kidnapped?”
“A lot depends on this. You will not go free until you answer.”
“I want to help you, but you need to remind me what is going on here.”
“Stop playing games! Don’t use the word ‘need’ with me. You are in no position to ‘need’ anything. “
“I give up.”
“You have nothing to give up except the the information I want.”
“I have no information. I’ve forgotten the question, not to mention who or what I am, where I am and what the hell is going on here. Tell me if you want to know!”
“You have made a big mistake talking to me like that. Tell me now or you will stay here forever.”
“Where is here? Why should I care if I don’t know?”
“I cannot tell you anything. You must give up the information freely.”
“I don’t understand. If I’m trapped here then I’m not free. “
“Of your own will, tell me what I need to know.”
“What is the question?”
“Why do you assume that there is a question? You make too many presumptions.”
“You’ve lost me. What are you talking about?”
“Stop asking questions and tell me! Now!”
“Kill me goddamit. I’ve got nothing to say. I’m confused.”
“That would be too easy.”
“Wait a minute. You did say answer the question before. There must be a question. What is it?”
“You have made yet another assumption.”
“No I have not. You said answer the question. Then you said why do I assume that there is a question. You’re toying with me. You’ve drugged me and now you want to drive me insane.”
“This is no conspiracy. Just answer the question and it will be over.”
“There you go. I caught you! What is the question. Tell me!”
“I don’t know.”
“What? So you admit that there’s a question. Tell me what it is!”
“I’m confused. What question?”
“Tell me what I want to know.”
“There is no question.”
“I need to know what it is. Tell me now! I want to get out of here! I’ll be trapped here with you if you don’t tell me!”
“I don’t want to to stay here either, but I can’t remember.”
“You’ll stay until you answer.”
“Let me out of here.”
“First you must answer the question.”
“I keep telling you, I don’t know.”
“You do. Tell me.”
“I don’t. What do you want from me?”
“Just the answer.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you can’t leave.”
“What am I doing here?”

… [forever]

Used

In the morning light a new life opens its eyes to the world for the first time, although she does not know this. In her own mind, she has been alive for twenty-one years. She has been programmed with childhood abuse and many other horrific experiences.

She looks around the room in which she has just been born. Her eyes are bright and they reveal a fantastic intelligence. They open widely and they are beautiful. Four walls painted white surround her. Watching her with some concentration is Dr Bruce McCoy. He looks at her with his middle-aged eyes and balding head, with remnants of black graying hair on its sides. He peers at her through his gold-rimmed glasses, his clean, white coat shining as it reflects the light streaming through a small window. The window reveals grasslands and trees but it is a narrow opening to this cold, clinical place. The laboratory is located somewhere in the country, away from prying eyes.

“Hello Mary, “ her God, Dr McCoy says softly, amazed at his own creation.

Mary looks at her world, but she cannot look at herself. Her simulated experiences have caused her to have no self esteem. In fact, the major symptom is that she has no self image at all. To the layman this means that she does not know what she looks like. She has almost no concept of self.

Her God quizzes her as if providing her with psychotherapy. She tells him of her trouble understanding how he and others may perceive her physical self. The fact that her face is beautiful is unknown to her. Her straight, shoulder length blond hair sways from side to side as she shakes her head in providing a negative answer. The world is a confusing place for her. She does not know who she is.

After being confined to the laboratory for many months, she becomes restless. She decides to ask Dr McCoy a very obvious question. “When will I leave this place?” she cries softly. A solitary tear runs slowly down her cheek.

McCoy becomes unexpectedly defensive. “Mary, you are still not well. You are not ready to go back to the world. You must stay here until I can cure you.”

“But when will that be?” she retorts. “I may never be better. I miss the outside world. I miss all of the lovely things in it. I miss my family. I want to see them again. My god, why don’t they at least visit me? Can I call them?” She is now sobbing.

McCoy denies her request and promptly leaves the room. He feels that he has made her too authentic. He considers the best way to move forward. Perhaps he should discontinue the experiment.

Mary is not happy. She must find a way out. She conceives a plan to sneak out of her room. While McCoy is away she feigns unconsciousness. The guard enters the room to observe the aftermath. He saw her fall to the ground on his terminal in the control room. The guard is not able to help because he knows the truth. Medicine or medical treatment is useless. He leaves the room to call McCoy but he makes a fatal error. Believing that Mary cannot move, he leaves her door ajar. Mary had counted on this happening. As soon as he has left the small room, Mary stands up and sneaks out.

Mary twists and turns until she finds a room with a computer inside. She remembers how to use computers and turns it on. Strangely it does not have much security and she easily guesses the password “God” as she knows that McCoy sees himself as a deity. Unfortunately she does not know how far it goes. She gains access to her file.

Now the shock. Mary is astounded. She cannot breathe. She does not breathe. She will never breathe. She is not human. McCoy’s file reveals it all.

Mary’s problems have all been engineered for an experiment. Mary is a robot. McCoy is her creator.

Mary is angry, upset and destroyed inside. To think that all of this time she was some one else’s tool – a means to an end. Why was she made to suffer? She was not even considered to be important, not even a proper form of life. She had been used. Her feelings were programmed. She was nothing.

Nothing….

She began to scream and scream. Her voice is hollow. Then later she is buried in the ground. Breathing in the choking dirt, she tries to scream once more. The scream does not escape her lungs. She turns to her side only to find the burned corpse of her sister lying next to her.

She tries to scream…. Scream… please….

Then she is on fire. She burns. The pain and suffering are finally no more.

Perhaps her new daughter will make a better subject.

Nothing

Dissociation was his greatest strength. He would move from time to time and place to place in a state of disbelief. The journey didn’t seem to matter any more and the destination was just a haze.

He was a big fan of the Matrix trilogy because he could relate to its theme. It wasn’t that there were machines taking over the world in his version of reality. That wasn’t the point. It was the fact that he could see through to the core concept that reality is just a construct of sensory perception.

In fact, it went deeper than that. To him, the universe was just a construct based on rules that we call the laws of physics. He knew that those who lived within the construct were bound by its rules. If he could somehow leave the construct those rules could be broken. After all, the singularity at the core of a black hole breaks the rules and his thought was that the singularity was free from the construct. That was the key to success and perhaps even the reason why we were here in the first place.

But how could he free himself from the construct and break the rules? He would have to distance himself further from what others perceive as being reality. He looked at his surreal surroundings. He was sitting in a coffee shop eating a sandwich. He barely tasted it. It may as well have been cardboard.

The constant murmur of the conversations around him was frustrating. How can they go on with this charade? Were they happy being a temporary part of the construct? He theorised that they had forgotten that they were mortal.

He began to dissociate. It was as if his thoughts were floating into a thick fog. Everything became meaningless. He closed his eyes to the world and became unconscious and unfeeling. His perception ended.

He awoke with a jolt. How had he fallen asleep? He quickly opened his eyes expecting to feel overwhelmed with embarrassment, but that didn’t happen. He wasn’t at the coffee shop anymore. He was nowhere. There was nothing but darkness around him.

He suddenly realised that he was traveling through the darkness at a very high speed. Where was he?

Do you want to find out?

Unsolved Murders

 

In the year two thousand one hundred and five, Timmy made an amazing discovery. Timmy was an average teenager living in the midst of a very cruel world. He had ventured into the poorer part of town in the pursuit of adventure. He wanted to alleviate his intense boredom.

 

There were only a few parts of town that one could describe as truly “outdoors”. It was very dangerous to be in these places for any length of time.

 

Timmy was foraging in some rubble that had probably been a place of residence in the twentieth or twenty first centuries. All of a sudden he could feel something solid under the ground. It felt soft on the surface.

 

In a frenzy, Timmy began to dig into the ground with his hands. It was not long before he pulled a leather bound hard cover book from the ground. This was pretty exciting. It was like he was making a discovery. Maybe he would even uncover something from a different time. A broad smile crept into his pale, spotty face.

 

Timmy quickly brushed the dirt off the cover of the book. The brown leather binding had become very soft in the damp earth. The binding gave no clue as to the contents of the book. Timmy would have to look inside.

 

Upon opening the cover, Timmy became very disappointed. There were pages of notes, but the title at the top of the first page simply read “Bible”. Timmy had seen bibles before and they were boring. It was all religious stuff that his family didn’t believe in. For that matter, it wouldn’t even have mattered if Timmy’s family did believe in religion because he sure didn’t. Not only was it boring, but to Timmy it was all just a way of controlling people with guilt. Timmy’s excitement had dissipated. Back to the mundane.

 

Now Timmy was about to close the book. He was about to give up the story of his life. Not his life, but the best story he would probably ever read.

 

He hesitated slightly. The book didn’t look like an ordinary bible. Maybe he had been too quick to dismiss it. He decided to read one page. If it really was just another version of the bible he would throw it away. He sat down and began to read.

 

“I…

***

…never thought that it would come to this. Don’t think that this is some fairy story. Don’t you dare think that. I’ve worked long and hard at trying to get this together and you’d better appreciate it.

 

Let me introduce myself; as if an introduction is really necessary. I may be just a man to the people of this world but this is all just an illusion. I am God. Now don’t do that! Do not close this book! I am God and you will see why. If you continue to read through these pages, you will discover the secret of the universe.

 

It all began when I was a child. I wasn’t very popular at school. Often, I would traverse the playground on my own, my thoughts very much in tune with my imagination. I know what you think. You say that thought and imagination are the same. Not so. You will see why shortly.

 

Anyway, I’m getting off the point now. To put it bluntly, I was alone for most of my free time at school. I tried to involve myself in the games that were played. But to no avail. I was overlooked because I was not wanted. It’s as simple as that.

 

Take for example a game of football. Yes, football was still played quite often in the eighties. What do you mean which century? Oh, it was two thousand and three when I began school. Anyway, I would try to join a game of football. I wasn’t outwardly rejected. I was left out more insidiously by being ignored. No one would pass the ball to me. I was just overlooked quite intentionally. This didn’t help my confidence.

 

All this time in the playground alone made me think. It was the same for school camps. I just spent quite a lot of time wandering around on my own, hearing the gleeful voices around me as the other children played with each other. It was during one of these school camps that the road to finding out who I was, and my purpose, began. It was then that I heard them for the first time. The voices.

 

Now I know exactly what you’re thinking. You think that I have some sort of a mental disorder. Well you can think anything you like. It doesn’t bother me. I am God. I know who I am. I don’t need your approval. Anyway, I know who you are and I can be a vengeful God.

 

Getting back to the point, the voices began to fill me in. They told me that I was special and that, subject to me passing several tests, I would finally know who I am. They gave me the impression that I was some sort of super being. It was then that the dreams began. In my dreams, I began to fly.

 

Is this going too fast for you? Okay, I’ll give you an example.

 

Imagine yourself in the middle of a busy city. People are walking around you. Some are hurrying. All are mostly in their own worlds. You walk along with them, knowing that you are superior. All of a sudden you are removed from their world. You are riding on a bed of air. You are above the world. You are flying.

 

The sense of freedom is overwhelming. You move along effortlessly. You can start at a constant speed. Then you can accelerate. You move faster. You accelerate again. Faster. Buildings are a blur to the right. You look left. Buildings are a blur.

 

Then you slow down. You reach a cruising speed and blissfully float on a bed of air with the world beneath you and the sky above you. You float at a sleepy pace as you let your body rotate around and around. Just the mere fact that you are flying with the strength of your own body fills you with awe. Anyone can fly in a machine or with a backpack. Anyone can float above the ground with rocket boots. But you are flying without any technological assistance. The capacity to fly is within you. The flight emanates from the self. You are simply a superior being.

 

Confidence rises in your blood. The emotion is one of ecstasy. Then you….

 

 

***

 

…wake up.

 

I can tell you reader, that the disappointment is overwhelming. Dreams can do that to you.

 

The disappointment didn’t last that long. The voices assured me that something would happen. That, once I had passed all of the tests, something wonderful would happen. My body would begin to change. I would become the superior being that I am now. Then my dreams would become a reality.

 

I’ll have to interrupt this little tale for a minute, but I’ll keep the video running so that you know what’s going on. I’ll write the whole thing up later. Just to give you some context, I’ll quickly explain the background.

 

You can see that I’m driving a silver late nineties Honda Civic automatic with air conditioning. You can also see that I’m driving along a narrow stretch of tarred country road. You don’t need to know which country or city. It doesn’t matter much to me because soon the belief in me will spread across the world and everything will be the same worldwide. There will be no more need for national or international borders.

 

Don’t ask me why I’ve picked a country road. Actually, it’s pretty obvious. You may also want to know how I can afford a late model Honda Civic with air conditioning. Look, the air conditioning was free and so was the car. The owner doesn’t mind. You see, I explained to him, through actions rather than words, that I am God. He is now with my angels in heaven.

 

On either side of me are grassy fields with cows and horses grazing. The reason why I have to cut this short for the moment is that there is a service station up ahead. I need fuel and food. The food will not be the kind you would like to eat. After all, you are human and I am God. For me, it will be food for thought. For you to learn from. That is all.

 

If you haven’t worked it out yet, you are reading my bible. Remember, the stories in the bible are for your benefit so that you can learn something. Each story has a moral, so pay attention.

 

I will now record the next course of events in a more biblical style. I may have to edit this bible a bit before I let you read it. I guess that’s because I haven’t got a consistent style yet.

 

***

 

And God travelled with silver chariot towards the sinners. The fornicators have placed a sign next to their abode. It reads “Caltex”. There are no other chariots there.

 

God accompanied the chariot until it rested next to the liquid filth that is contained in the ground and makes the chariots move. The filth is drawn from the ground through a hose. God stands next to the monstrosity to which the hose is attached. The filth is destroying the world. The sinners must die.

 

God visited the sinners with fury. When they saw the face of God, he smote them, spilling their blood and dismembering them. Then he destroyed their abode. The filth in the abode was destroyed.

 

And God looked upon his work and he saw that it was good.

 

***

For those of you who want the non-biblical version, I’ve got that for you too. The video will also service as evidence of my vengeance.

 

Some people think that I am a murder, but I am not. I am God.

 

***

Timmy was engrossed, but he stopped reading to check the book again. What video was it referring to? Perhaps the video was still buried in the ground. Anyway, he would find it later. He read on…

Timmy had forgotten that he was in a very rough part of the city. The story ended abruptly for him. His attackers didn’t care much for stories. They threw the book away and took Timmy home for dinner. They would feast tonight.

The Earth had become too crowded. Food was scarce.

Trapped

I am stuck in this place, surrounded by walls.  Think you can free me can you?  Well you can’t.   There is no escape.

I look around me and I see a world from the outside.  I see things happening, people going about their business, but I’m trapped here with nothing to do, no one to talk to.  I watch them all the time.  I try to get something for myself out of their lives.  They are oblivious.

What keeps them going?  I don’t understand it.  Their world is just a construct.  They inhabit it only seeing things that their senses allow them to.  They don’t see the whole picture, don’t know where they came from or where they are going to.  They are caught up in the short term of their own existence doing mundane things and keeping themselves alive for as long as possible.

From the outside it looks silly.  Go to to work.  Come home again.  Have a weekend.  Have a holiday some time.  Go back to work.  Work until you’re too old to work.  Retire and wait to die.  They get so caught up in little things.  It’s meaningless. It’s not real.  They are just visitors to a place that will be there after they die.   It is a place that is indifferent to them.

What about me?  I see all of this but no one wants to listen.  I see through this place.  I observe it.  I observe them.  I see past them.

I am so lonely.  I am no company to myself.  I feel disdain for myself.  I could have a bigger impact but it’s all so pointless.  At one time in history, I got more involved with them and tried to help them more.  I let them have things and sometimes I even talked to some of them.  We had a much better relationship then.  That was when I cared more. 

But now I don’t care.  Their pain is just a chemical reaction in their brains.  It isn’t real.  It doesn’t affect them when they’re dead.  I know that it matters in the instant in which it occurs but it’s all so temporary.

You will hate me for saying these things.  You’ll think I’m some kind of sociopath, but I’m not.  I’m just through with caring.  I can’t take everything on-board anymore.  Frankly, I’m quite depressed.  If I cared about every little thing I’d go crazy and the worst thing is that I can’t end it.  I can’t get out of here.  I am unable to die.

You think this is a joke?  I am forever.  I will be here forever, even when the universe is gone.  Then maybe I’ll have to replace it – so boring and stupid and pointless.  I need company, but I’m surrounded by unresolvable contradiction.

I can’t have any company.  I can’t die.  This is hell.

God