Bayside at Night or Whatever
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I am writing this assuming that nobody is going to read it. It is the original way I used to write and it suited me rather well. Ever since I became obsessed with money, all my writing has turned into mush. The only reason why I want people to read my writing is to make money. I do not know why. I am in one of those states were I think, if I was filthy rich, then I would finally be happy. I had not been happy in a long time. There are a few minor bursts here and there, but mostly I am just going to through the motions. I am always trying to focus, to avoid rooting in too deep.
They say that the best writing comes from the heart. I suppose that is both cheesy and true. It has been a while since I have been able to have strong train of thoughts. I have finally decided to deal with the can of worms that is slowly rotting my brain. The last book I wrote I feel could have been better. Alas, it is that I am rotting because of the negative emotions. I usually do not give vent to them. I just focus on something else. Slowly, they are festering inside of me, giving me that terrible migraine that I despise so. You know what it is, the little knot in your throat. Who am I writing this to? Nobody. It doesn’t matter anyway.
My real dream is not to be a writer or a dancer or even a painter. These are all mundane little things that makes this festering life somewhat bearable. The thing is, as long as I can remember I did not want to be the person that I was. Even now, I still do not want to be me. It is this flesh, this sickening, sickness. I feel it rotting me, from the inside out. Great, the headache is back and so is the pain in my throat. This is what happens when I give vent to those negative emotions. I suppose it all started with my birth and this stupid cursed memories I carry with me. I always remember, because I was cursed with this powerful mind. And yet, it is not the person I wish to become.
I want to become that person that I see far in the distance. Regardless of how much I try to reach it, it escapes me. I am not the person I wish to become. I am not the person I desire to become. I am not the me that I wish to be. I suppose I am not the first lowly, disgusting rotting human to ever feel that way. It all boils down to the fact that I do not want to be human. I have this clear picture of the thing I want to be and yet, I am trapped in this festering flesh. I feel it now, rotting my mind, as I give more and more vent to negative emotions.
People say that one should talk about with someone you trust. However, I trust no one, and what is this foolish thing about trust. Has trust ever helped anyone. People can work together to form something that resembles order, without trust. Trust is overrated. I wish I wasn’t born a human. I was I was the me that I imagine myself as such. Well, this is just about as much of the can of worms I will be opening for today. There, there now, close the lid. Ah…you can feel yourself all better. Maybe a little advil for the headaches will help. I think I will plug out, by playing a bit of Skyrim or whatever. It offers mild amusements. So, enjoy this stupid photo I took of Miami Beach. Gods, know I find that place extremely boring. God, everything is boring. I am so bored!!! I am so, so bored. I think it all boils down to my current state of boredom or whatever. I won’t read this over for typos, and as far as I am concerned I never wrote this. God, you people are all so boring. I wish I had so, much money.