“Wandering between reality and dreams, I stood up and took a deep breath. I felt the cold air seep through the window – it’s morning. I haven’t had a chance to sleep again. I was too preoccupied thinking about the past – a colorful passing albeit dread with regret and sorrow. No, I couldn’t forget that of which molded me of what I am right now.”

This is but a rant of a man who is forcing himself to drown in an illusion of depression – someone who is actually normal, but is pretending to be an outcast who’s only satisfaction is rejection. Acceptance of himself is something he believes in truly, whilst the real self is telling that it is nothing but slander.

Dramatic as it should’ve been, it never is. Everything is normal. Living a life free of actual worry, he guises his delusions on the non-existent. An escapist you may say, but it’s more than that. This man is trying to rid himself of the truth. Rejecting the nuance of satisfaction, he denies himself of the things he had obtained – one of which is understanding and acceptance.

No one seems to understand him though. He doesn’t say anything after all.


a confession

Nothing. Nothing is absolutely happening. My life had become a mechanical recurrence of predefined events, with predefined choices, with predictable outcomes. I’m losing interest in things I was excited before. I’m choosing to be well off doing least effort, low risk, and almost no gain activities. Nothing surprises me anymore.

Basically, my life is dead. I’m falling into the depths of subtlety, and normality. I had become one with the linear future that will end in death. What’s more, I have only lived the earth for 21 years to date and I’m already feeling like this now. All of the past has been like yesterday, and tomorrow is as soon as the present.

I wake up. I eat. I take a bath. I get clothed. I go to work. I eat. I go home. I sleep.

Ad infinitum.

Whenever I go out and try something new, a moment later, I realize it’s done. I’m back to where I was before; being one with the predictable world.


Every day, I think about how I would escape from this predicament. I keep thinking, that everything I have been doing is not enough. I keep on believing that I am always incomplete, and that I should search for the one that would fulfill me.

I keep thinking, I keep finding, but it’s not enough.

Nothing is enough for me. I cannot be satisfied – as it is now.

I admit – I have no clear goals in life. My goals are rather basic – be rich to do whatever I want – but that’s too bland. To be honest, I’d like for that to happen because I had to gain more wealth to be able to keep finding what would fulfill me.

But how do I do that. Nothing is happening in my life right now. Nothing significant. Nothing of worth. Nothing at all.

I want to wish for something to hit me at random. I want to believe life in non-linear, but my lethargy outweighs my faith in life.

I just don’t care.

Would you want to care for me though?


I hadn’t had any sleep,
In bed I can only weep.
I was beside you all along,
But it felt like everything is wrong.

Today is the day that it will end,
My dreams, my fantasies, my doubts to amend.
You asked, “Is everything okay?”
I looked at you and I had nothing to say.

I laid myself bare,
Drops of water chilled my skin without care.
This pain I think I could bear,
Tormented, my forethought I wish I could share.

“No, it doesn’t have to come to this.”
“Yes, we could have done something, but it’s her I miss.”
“But you told me `I love you`, isn’t that supposed to be true?”
“But I love her more, I’m sorry it wasn’t you.”

I packed my things, and looked at your ring I wore.
“You’ll keep it?” I replied, “No, I’ll sell it at a store.”
“Well, it’s okay, I’ll have mine intact.”
It hurt, “I think I’ll give it back -“, “No – it is a broken pact.”

“I’m sorry, yet we’ve made this far,”
“I forgive you.” You told me, and that would be my deepest scar.
“Remember those days where we went to the ocean with your friends?”
“But I can only imagine how blue the seas when you confessed.”

“I…” the words, came so slow,
“You don’t have to say anything now.”
I came close to you. You didn’t move an inch.
I kissed you on the lips – my tongue, you pinched.

“I’ll be happy if you’ll just hold me like this.”
“But you’ll never be back, and my arms, would be of his.”
“Why did we have to fall with each then?”
“I ask the same.” and she is with a married man.

“This is such a mess we are in.”
“But this mess, I cherish within.”
An embrace, we slowly let go,
Of a sin, a burden we tow.
I bought a ticket, to a station that did not exist,
Crossing the yellow line, the train I missed.


These hands you’ve held so dearly – I can still feel your warmth. These filthy hands, you held in your chest, these hands that felt the purity in your heart it cannot obtain. Shameless, you saturated me with feelings I could not conceive before. You took the air out of my lungs, and breath life into my lips. I was alive. You’ve made me feel I was in this world. The eternal grandeur of materialistic worth, you made worthless with your touch – I felt reborn.

Your eyes, your eyes that peered into the darkness of my soul. It stared with such admonition, the malice in me, you’ve made to disappear. For the first time, I took no shame in staring back because I thought it was the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen – for you’ve made me see what beings with eyes should see; you – a being of eternal glory and holiness.

I hear your voice, your voice which gave life to anyone that would hear it. Your voice akin to the sound of the morning sun – waking me up in my sleep, for a hope I should treasure because I knew that the tomorrow I have hoped for has been given to me. A classical overture of strings cannot fathom the opus of which is your divine sonata – a crescendo of infinitesimal intensity – an arpeggio of subtle complexity, a fantastic orchestra of emotion and absent of animosity – the last and only song I’d want to hear in my deathbed.

I can only but wonder how I’d spend the rest of my days now. I can only but wonder, how the pond would ripple – as you ran along the sidewalk. The pools of water, left behind the rain of which I am grateful of – the raindrops that shone on your pale skin; even the sky is weeping at your beauty – or is it crying because there isn’t anyone who will dance along the solitary tunes of a drizzle with such grace beholding of a being of absolute chastity which matched Gaia itself. I can only but wonder how the rain will stop now – for which I have been feeling water flowing in my cheeks, which then, you’ve wiped away and took it as yours. Inasmuch as I was your eternal rain, you’ve become my eternal sunshine – the only light that cast a shadow through my hollowness.

I can only think about the hands which fit mine, the lips that tasted like cherry wine, and the voice that used to say “good morning”.

I can only think you’ve been real. I can only.

concise instructions for murdering your imaginary friend

You liar, you fool:

Your twisted truths compose the psalms of your digression;
disillusioned, factual fornication and informational discombobulation;

Recreate – the steps of the faultiness of your actions, mistakes, nil of desperation and regret;
as to force reality to realize the wrongfulness of its judgements.
Listen to the sounds of your inner soliloquy and scream the vagueness of your individuality –
empty, the world will be devoid of silence and they will hear your naive cries –

The demented cries of the lamented, an angel descends upon those who awaken;
To cut the throats of the willful forsaken.

Paint them with the colors of your sensual spirituality and inner deviance; the tainted hues of subdued want and saturated lust. Ink your linen with rage and destruction. Fuel your creativity with the deaths of your anti-faction. All whilst indulging in the infinite depth of your incalculable desires. Bewitch the canvas with the arousal of your pen. With each stroke, climax, and execute extreme euphoria. With each thrust, sublime, and sense maximum pleasure.

Justified, pornographic holiness – the results of the progression of your subliminal creation – the final form of your carnality.


The fate of everything, I had once decided to be mine, had betrayed me. I carried on a dream far anyone could imagine, but as desperate as I am now, it will remain forever as a dream – a dream you cannot comprehend. A boundless, incomprehensible fate that I had once conjured.

No, nothing can save me now. I have fallen to the point where I could no longer believe myself.

I am useless. I serve no purpose anymore. The world sees my existence as contrite. The universe I have created, the life I had produced – is rejecting it’s creator. I am now but a shell of who I was, a carcass, detritus.

I dream’t of changing the world. The world I once despised, of whom I had loved. I hoped for salvation. I yearned for redemption – all of which I have achieved. I was happy. I created life, I made the ugly beautiful. I cleansed all those who are tainted and I gave prosperity to the unblessed. I shone light upon darkness. I defeated all those who they deemed evil. I triumphed over the barbarians. I displaced oblivion with peace. I created the perfect world worthy of my greatness.

With this, I thought I could be truly satisfied. I thought it would give meaning to everything – but then I was wrong.

I was mistaken. My ideals, my works, my creations – they all cast hell upon themselves. I was truly deluded by the perfection of my dream. A perfect dream, in which will remain a dream.

They shed blood. They swung their swords to each other’s necks. It was a sight to behold. A tainted spring of black and red – it was the realization of the truth of my ideals, that what I had created, is fated to be destroyed.

I cannot lie on the fact that I adored even in their slaughter. After all, they embody my will and my tenement. Their deeds, their blood, their flesh – all of which once belonged to mine. All of it, which is mine alone. 

After the cries had faded, I walked the earth of flesh I had loved. 

I have failed.

But then again, I did not lose hope.

I gave. I loved. I created.

They stole. They hated. They destroyed.

An endless dream of passion and murder – a corrugation of glass and flesh, a calm lake of puke and excrement.

Their fate, my fate did not change.

That is when I decided, I will destroy the world myself. It is because I loved them so much, that I shall be the one to end their suffering.

I gave. I loved. I created.

I stole. I hated. I destroyed.

An endless dream of warmth and corruption – a concoction of bile and diamonds, a subtle rain of blood and acid.

Their fate, my fate did not change, but something else was. it is I.

I resigned myself from thyself. I realized I had lost sights on my true intentions. I began to regret all of which I had done until now. All of them. 

I cannot be myself anymore.

Those are my last thoughts, as I lay down the cold tiled floor, holding the tool I have proven to be unworthy of. 

But I cannot fall just yet. I should at least throw the drafts to the dustbin.

Remarks pt. 2

Oh. Apparently they’re going to jail.

Now what. Happy now? Or you want to hope to replace them with your self-righteous deeds, biased opinions, and fallacious arguments?

Did you know what is the problem? Did you help solve anything at all?

Have you ever looked at yourself? Have you realized that you aren’t doing anything at all to help anybody at all?

Is there anything you can do aside from whining on how corrupt the goddamn government is now while enjoying your three times a day meal, a nice bed to sleep on, a complete set of appliances, a good education, a mother, a father, friends, and the liberty of free speech?

Why don’t we all shut up and think. Why don’t we all stand up and work. Why don’t we all open our eyes, listen with our ears, and walk with our own two feet. We shouldn’t care about anything else. We should be happy for what we already have. We should be satisfied.

But that cannot be possible. We’re humans after all. We are alive, and as long as we are alive, we won’t be satisfied. So what should we do? Die? Is that even an option? It’s actually funny, because no sane person wants to. You dont want to. You can’t solve anything at all. Nothing will be changed.

So yes. Celebrate. For tomorrow, everything will get back to what once had been the past. Because nothing will be different.

At least, for you and your asshat beliefs and predicaments.

No, you will not see change. You will not be satisfied. You will still live on, and be the self-righteous being the world does not need.

No thanks for your existence.