Fare thee well.

I've noticed a consistent increase in traffic over the last few months. I don't know how people are finding this blog, or associating it with my real identity (if indeed they are), and I've become increasingly distant from quite a few people I used to know, so perhaps they're reading this as a means to keep acquainted with me, or perhaps these are just curious, random people searching for rotten fruits on Google, and somehow ending up here.

Regardless, the whole thing makes me uneasy. I write for myself, not for an audience. There's a reason I distanced myself from this blog, and removed all association with me. This is not 'work', these are not well thought-out, comprehensive pieces of writing, it is just a random blog of sporadic thoughts. These thoughts are my own, I write them solely for the reason of expression.

All it does is restrict my words, as now I have to carefully consider what I give away, perhaps people who know me will directly associate the contents of this blog with me, as if I was always writing about myself, or those close to me.

And so, with that, this is the final entry. I've never much liked this blog, I've always felt restrained here, much of the earlier entries are inane ramblings of an undeveloped mind, or just senseless entries without conclusions. I was spinning away from the reason I began this in the first place.

I write for myself, and myself alone. I have never written, or will ever write, for an audience or for approval. I am not so ugly.

Disconnected.

Few people break out of this town, this dead, crippled city, and when they do, they come back only to find they're hated by the ones who are still trapped here. I see people everyday kidding themselves of happiness but when you make the effort to search a little deeper you find they've long given up. It's just about keeping appearances, you think you're the only one with your dark secrets, forbidden habits and multitude of facades - no, you're wrong. Everyone is the same. Everybody has ceased to care. It's just watching the arms on the clocks go by, counting every second, waiting for the hammer to drop.

You kid yourself when you're younger that it's all great, life will always be this wonderful, you'll grow up together and never change, but it's just another self-reasoned delusion. People get bored of each other, they get bored of themselves, so they seek the next objective. The next big step in life to ward of boredom and self-inflicted unhappiness. Get married, they say, a wife will keep you on check, your husband will make the burden easier, you can create a happy union and live your lives happily ever after. Until he beats the shit out of you for flirting with his best friend. Until she leaves you because you're washed up and can't get a job. Until you're kids grow up too fast, leaving you impossible tasks, look at you with resentment, and spit in your face for your years of servitude and love. That's just how it works these days. We've created this machine, and now we're living inside it.

So it's all about escapism. Your televisions, iPods, phones, computers, games, raunchy novels and fashion magazines and all that bullshit about the untold joys of a fucking celebrity lifestyle. That becomes your objective, because they feed it to you from an early age. Masses of advertisements and media avarice crammed right into your tiny, thick little skull, until that's what your whole life becomes about. It's no longer about living a good, honest, simple life of devotion - these are the dreams of fools, of unambitious peasants trapped in the fields of the past, slaving away like mindless drones for an absentee landlord that has long ceased to care for them.

No, we're different, we're chasing the dream, we're turning our backs on the ideals of our forefathers and pursuing a better, more entertaining life. We'll wear the best clothes (never twice), drive the fanciest cars, replace our childhood memories with the shared memories the idiot box feeds us, we'll listen to all this fucking bullshit music that was never any good and full of their propaganda shit. We'll replace those who should be our heroes with a bunch of empty-shell millionaires who see us as nothing but mindless consumers. The lines of reality and fantasy will become blurred. Everything will become blurred. Men will become women and women will become men. The hungry, oppressed, abused will cease to exist in the world because they no longer exist in our minds, except when some great news-worthy tragedy occurs, in which case we'll all temporarily unite to show our false faces and show we're still connected. We'll update our fucking blogs, Twitter and Facebook with messages of our compassion and sympathy, we'll offer prays but we've long let go of any notion of God, and then we'll go back to watching Celebrity Big Brother.

Ultimately it's all about escapism, nothing beyond that. Anything to take our minds of the severity of our situation, anything that delays the rising tides of reality destroying our shores. We're all just a bunch of drooling, vacant, addicts in a vegetative state, hooked up to a life-support machine with an infinite supply of self-administered morphine. Existing, but not living.

The Robot.

'My heart is heavy, my peace is gone.'

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

He must have written thousands upon thousands of words on this one subject. He must have revisited all the old, dead conversations which, looking back at how everything turned out, probably never meant anything at all. All the echoes of that voice still reside within this machine. Still reside within his head. His insomnia has returned in full force, but when he does get those few, precious, cherished hours of sleep, he dreams about the same subject again, same person, countless different scenarios. The same outcome.

He must have written pages upon pages upon pages on the subject, all saved as unpublished posts. He writes, he reflects and re-reads, and he inevitably loathes it, and he loathes himself even more for feeling this way, and then he disregards the words, saves it for another day, only to never revisit it again. An entire trove of unsent letters, straight from his heart, right into the dust bin of obscurity. Unspoken words screaming to be heard.

And now he's disregarding others, unwilling to let new people in or build bonds, instead choosing to sever connections, one at a time, save them from himself - an all consuming darkness. This was either his new plan to destroy himself, or one of his most selfless acts.

'Just a distraction,' he keeps telling himself, 'these thoughts of the past are just a temporary distraction.' His minds way of not dealing with other, more pressing factors. It would be so easy to occupy his mind with something else, a prop, a physical distraction, a shallow companion; just pretend to care, laugh at their stupid stories and let them have their way. So easy. But he liked to believe he was better than that, that he was a much better person than them, but everyone is doing it - so why shouldn't he? Was he really any better than those lucky, immoral fools who bounce and rebound from people to people, one to another, able to give their heart away and take so freely. They did not feel an iota of remorse, shedding their false tears whenever they pleased, able to sleep whenever they pleased.

And then the answer came to him: sleep. Sleep will cure him of these destructive, disjointed thoughts. He just needs to sleep... But sleep offers no reprieve any more; he already knows who awaits him on the other side.

And yet, deep in the darkest depths of his mind, he welcomes the memory fondly.

Blah blah etc etc

Perhaps there is something wrong with me. That is the only conclusion I can come to, that perhaps the problem is not everyone else, their inane stupidity, their mindless repetition, never ending greed, self-worship, infinite drivel and just general disregard for the world around them - perhaps I am the one who is out of place. Perhaps everyone is moving forward whilst I remain firmly in a standstill - worse yet, perhaps I'm willingly moving in reverse.

Everything just seems so dull and meaningless, the same loop played over and over and over again. It's the same event, same outcome on different days, with different people in different places. But it's really all the same fucking thing over and over again. Everyone goes on whilst I sit here cherishing little, remembering nothing and regretting everything. Trapped in a cycle that just goes on and on and on.

The memories I once held dear I can scarcely remember and those that I do are tinged anyway, the people I once cared for I utterly resent, and everyday I conspire at further alienating and detaching myself from everyone trying to reach out to me. I never asked for your help, your consideration or your love. I just asked to be left alone.

The earth keeps spinning, people move forward and everything goes on. All your childhood friends become vengeful, spiteful leeches that feed on misery. You realise people are selfish psychotic beings that think with the wrong organ and who will bring you down to their level. The voices you once found soothing become a monotonous drone. That girl you once loved you realise is a whore, spreading lies and venereal diseases where ever she goes. That baby whose mother had high hopes for as she held him in her arms becomes a mass murderer. Your home town which once had so much colour and energy now seems grey and bleak. The petals decay and everything wilts away.

Perhaps it is I who has changed.

O, woe is me.

Tried and tried to change myself into becoming something I never was that I've forgotten who I really was, who I really was meant to become. Chances and opportunities I have dwindled and disregarded, paths made easy but I went astray, ignored the signs and banished the light, opting instead to dwell in the darkness. For too long I have been dwelling with the sewer rats, for too long have I crawled amongst them that I have forgotten how to walk. I have become the rotting corpse that nourishes them, and I have no one to blame except myself. Severed connections to the source of all good and now I find myself isolated.

My quest for good is gone, replaced instead by infinite lust. My mind weak, narrow, fickle and my desires unceasing and shallow. I have become a slave to my desires, systematically destroying everything I worked to gain, everything I held dear. I comprehend little and accept everything, I ceased all control just to become a part of them - these drooling, stupid morons who couldn't tell right from wrong, justice from injustice, these people of sense who realise not that they're the most deaf, most dumb, most blind of all creatures that roam, willingly accepting every little morsel of lie and deceit, offering their own, these farcical figures who know nothing beyond their own wants and luxuries.

I am no better - nay! I am worse. I had the foresight, the ability to comprehend, the ability to escape this prison of avarice, but still I said no, choosing to become a part of all this rancid filth.

So here I am, a boat going against the current, a ridiculous sailor lost in a storm as the dark skies loom, pathetically laying here waiting for the waves to engulf me.

Trapped in the hamster wheel.

You tells us you're in for this long haul, you're here to change things, to better things for everyone, to improve conditions. You'll cease this endless waste, abolish your greed, the hate, let go of the grudges and petty rivalries, how you will get rid of the invisible board overhead keeping score of who wins these petty, pointless arguments, how you'll stop the appeasing and attention seeking and focus on what really matters, on those who really matter. You will become a better person, make decisions that serve the better interests for all parties involved, stop acting in self-interest and for the whims of your paymasters and overlords, those who attempt to forge your destiny and outline your future, you'll break away from all of that and be your own person. You'll stop littering, stop all the waste, the pollution and the slander and the excess, and all the lustful exploits and drunken affairs and the spiteful flirting. Cut out this bad habit, slice of that flaw, diminish that blemish. Regular exercise at the gym, eating well, brushing your teeth and all that. You'll be a good partner, a good parent, a good child, a good sibling, respectful and noble citizen. You're not here to make friends, you say, this is not a popularity contest, you emphasise, you are here to change things, to take charge and bring about the golden age that we have so long yearned for. That we deserve, you assure us.

And then shortly afterwards when you're alone and away from the public eye, you forget about it all and revert back to your old ways.

The price of progression.

An obstacle in the way
Red stain on a white sheet
Grey cloud on a sunny day
Weed in a field of wheat

Checker on a chess board
In a game long dictated
A faceless in the horde
To be eradicated

Capitulate to the fear
Accept the opression
To their rule you will adhere
The price of progression

The Fish In The Bowl

Ceaselessly trying to hold on to that one - one memory that I have, but I keep -

Forgetting! I keep forgetting it, I forget it all, I have difficulties trying to recall my past, my origin, but did it any of it matter before I got here? Before I met -

Who? Who? I can't remember anything! Nothing! It was I was never born, just popped into - existence. There was... a vacuum, unceasing nothingness - and then there was me. Then it there was something else, something so beautiful, something so infinite and endless, but what? There was nothing. There was nothing, nothing but water and stone and dust. And then... and then - there was her.

And then it all came together, slowly, the jigsaws all fell into their rightful place, everything came into being, the grey glass of the fishbowl that is my existence shattered, and there was colour, motion, but who was she? Who? I can't remember. Her face. She keeps looking at me. Smiling at me. And then she disappears. I blink, and she's gone. And then I -

forget again. I don't want to, but I do. It was not like this before, I used to be able to remember, I used to be able to make sense of everything, but none of it meant anything to me then. And then I met her, and then everything had meaning, and then she left me and I'm going insane. Was it always like this? Was everything always this hazy? Always this backward, like a film in rewind, constantly skipping. None of it making sense. She comes, every now and then, and smiles at me - those large, beautiful teeth, exposing gum, those giant brown eyes, full of innocence and inexperience, her face untouched by the depredation of time. Her long, fair fingers gracefully graze at the fishbowl. She laughs her beautiful, soothing laugh, in her voice full of pearls.

But then she goes. And then I yearn for her. She still comes to visit, but hardly ever. In moments of boredom, when she seeks my attention. My beautiful golden scales. My dark stripes. My majestic tail. My powerful eyes. I am the king of the sea, lord of the ocean. Who is she? Who does she think she is? She is nothing, I answer! Nothing! I have my vast kingdom! My throne! My adoring subjects! I have everything! I don't need her!

But I do. I am nothing without her. None of this means anything anymore. I would give it all up in a blink. Just a lost soul in a fishbowl. Forever waiting. Forever disappointed.

Spider in a shoebox.

Is it worth it now, little spider? Alone in your shoebox, is it worth it now? You’ve abandoned your only friend, turned against him - sold him to the highest bidder. Your first companion, who sought you out, befriended you when no one else would, allowed you a place in his home as if you were his brother. And you let him them carry him away.

And for what? For the sake of your own ego, the sake of your own foolish pride, a bitter rivalry that will end in only loss and solitude. You dare not defend him, even when you knew they were wrong, you dare not act against their lies; instead you sought only to enhance their veil of deceit, to increase your own status, your own wealth. Betrayed the only one who even considered you, stabbed him in the back, knifed him in the neck, kicked him in the teeth - just to be in the company of those wretched snobs. He offered you a chance, granted you the gift of his companionship, gave you a place you could go - and you betrayed him. What do you think about, when you sit there quietly, alone, in your cold shoebox? What do you think about? Do his screams, as he was dragged off into the night, still echo in your mind? His gaunt face and his wide eyes filled with disgust, do they still haunt your nightmares?

You took my kindness for weakness, and for this you will pay. I will crush you like the bug that you are.

Speed & solitude.

It's all about speed here, time is money, keep walking walking walking and don't look back and don't apologise. Who do we, the Great Leaders of Tomorrow, what do we have to apologise for? We can do what we want, surely? Destroy what we want, fuck who we want, mistreat who we want, create the mess we want. Someone else is going to come and clean it up, born and raised for the job, someone always does. We have Greater things to concern ourselves about, keep walking lads keep walking and crushing their pretty flowers.

Speed. Time. Money. The weak get left behind, unable to keep up with our lightning fast pace. Who needs friendship? Who the fuck cares? It's all about speed. We have a purpose to fulfil, and we must carry out through with this Great Journey with fantastic speed or else - or else we'll be late and God forbid if we're late! God forbid I should remember those who helped me obtain this position! God forbid I should express consideration or gratitude! God forbid I should stay and wait and slow my pace for my friends! God forbid if I should have regrets, if I should show remorse for the weak, the less fortunate! God forbid if I should lower myself to such a lowly level! I'm just looking out for number one. The big one, the great one, the fast cars, the tinted windows, the latest technology and the best toys and we've long stopped believing and hoping and dreaming. Sheer and absolute greed drives, drives, drives us and we're going straight ahead with the greatest of speed.

Alone in your room. A spider in a shoebox. Is it worth it now? Or is the pay off yet to come? Don't you yearn to be out there, in the haze and the speed and the obscurity and the carelessness? Get lost and disappear. Destined for greater things. Passing the time or is there a purpose? The hardship is approaching. This is when it all comes crashing down.

Except I still remember, but do I honestly think remembrance will save me now? Nothing, nothing can save you, clutch on to what you have in hope, and please stay, stay with me, keep your face turned to me and oh come close and keep me warm but no no don't stray you are all I need but don't go to him I can't even bear to even look - look at his beautiful face. His beautiful, pretty face. And I'm playing with myself, what do you care, back in your Castle with your beautiful prince who I can't possibly compare to, who's far far far better than I am in every possible aspect. Who cares if he mistreats you, disregards you, cares not for you, and who cares if I'm the man that truly loves you and would die for you. Who cares?

I looked in the mirror, an endeavour I otherwise despise, but it was necessary. It was important to determine the damage the cruelness of my condition has had on me, to inspect the severity of the transformation. I expected to look as cold and as old as I feel. I looked in the mirror.

I saw no reflection.