well...

It seems ages since I last posted. I'm just so tired all the time that I'm never really awake but when I sleep, it doesn't make me any less tired.

Cigarettes and diet coke are a godsend.

I seem to have picked up this weird habbit of counting. It's not like obsessive-compulsive counting like counting when I open a door or something. It's just, I think I mentioned that I had these biscuits...well I count them without eating them. I light up a cigarette, I open the box of biscuits and I take one out. One. Another one. Two. Another one. Three. At the moment there are fourteen in a box. That means I have been incredibly piggish since you can fit twenty one in this box. I also count how many cigarettes I smoke in a day. Today I have had two. Yesterday I had five. The day before, I had seven.

I'm about to spark up another one so that makes my count for today, Three.

I love the number Three. I don't know why. I had this theory that it was actually the base number for everything.

I haven't lost any wieght...I've been very naughty and bingy and fat. Maybe it is just because I'm a fat cow longing to be thin and I was trying to pin it on some sort of psychosis to make myself feel better.

On the other hand, I'm deliberately making myself feel obsessed about my weight and although this has always been an issue for me, I know why I'm doing it at this precise moment.

I need something to be wrong. For as long as I can remember, there's been some sort of drama in my life. Something going wrong. It would seem that I can't live without one anymore, it's such a cornerstone to my being.

I have nothing to be 'depressed' about so I have to make a cause. I can't stop the feeling but I have no reason at this moment in time.

I have also figured out why I sabotage myself as far as education goes. I have always been terrified of growing up, despite acting like an adult as a child, pretending to be an adult because (interlude while I drop my cig lol) they seemed so smart to me at the time, my father was my god...he was always a genius in my eyes. But never accepting of me because I wasn't a boy.

Anyway, if I grow up, pass the gcse's, what then? I go on to A levels and still I have to get fantastic grades or I'm not worth the effortt. And then? Then I have to go to Uni...decide there and then the course to take, to decide my future...and do amazingly well, prove I'm smart, that I'm worth something to society, to my parents, to myself.

And then what? Then I have to live out my life. Doing what? What the fuck is it that I am supposed to do as an adult, when I'm done with education?

And what exactly do they teach me? How to despise myself because someone else is already better at whatever I'm doing than me? That someone is already smarter, already more beautiful, already stronger and faster and smarter and beautiful.

What does that leave me with? Are we supposed to accept and believe that we can be anything we want? We can do anything we want?

What if the only thing I want to be is free, and the only thing I want to do is fly? What then? Those are the two things I cannot be and cannot do...no matter what.

People pressure us with the things they've already failed at. And then they despise us when we fail too.

There's still fourteen biscuits. Count them on to the plastic lid...then back into the plastic box. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
Wipe the crumbs from ones fingers.

There's one hour and thirty seven minutes til I have work.

Work. "They have you working jobs you hate so you can buy shit you don't need." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club.

That's all you'll do when you leave uni. Work a job you hate, giving you the pile of shit known as money for you to squander on materialistic shit that's not paramount to survival.

"You are not the car you drive. You are not what's in your bank. You are not you're fucking khaki's. You are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world." Tyler, Fight Club.

My mum said I was weird because I said I agreed with everything Tyler was saying. But then, she wouldn't know the full extent of that because she won't watch it.

Mother wants me to do well. She went to Uni and got a BA in art...and yet she's in a job she hates with unexplainable migraines that land her in bed for hours.

I'm leaving work when we hit the summer holidays. One of the chefs gave me a lecture, saying I was stupid for giving up such a good job. Yeah, it's a good job. But it's pointless, it's pathetic, and it's nothing more to me than a minor annoyance.

That's six months, give or take.

And mum wants me to go back to college again in september...slough through more shit that doesn't interest me in the slightest.

You know what the worst thing is. I know full damn well that this is probably really arrogant of me, but I'm beyond caring. I'm smart. Okay. I always have been. I was never a major boffin at school because I never gave a shit about the work. It was all meaningless bull to me. It still is.

I guess I could go as far as to claim that I'm a philosopher. I have ideas, ideals, theories and thoughts that make perfect sense to me and have a huge groundbreaking impact on my own personal being.

Yet, it means nothing to anyone else and I know exactly why that is. It is because I am not a 5 ft 8, thin, rich, popular star. I do not own three cars and two houses and go abroad every month.

For some reason, whether they're particularly enlightened, intelligent celebrities or not, the 'common person' wants to know what goes on inside their heads.

Well I want to share what goes on in my head. But because I have not done something incredible, I have not become 'great' as Marya Hornbacher would say in 'Wasted', I am not one of the 'feather light demigods' on the front of magazines or the screens of tv's or flash-playered on the internet, no one wants to know.

But I guess I can live with that.

What I can't live with, is the fact that nothing anyone does is really relevant. Nothing anyone owns or desires. Anything that meants anything is now nothing.

I suppose it's survival of the fittest, right? I'm not what they want me to be, so I'm not fit for their 'pack'.

I'm one of the injured ones that get's left behind for the pack's own survival.

Hence no individuality. There's no room for an individual. It's group. Fit into this or that group, choose out of these groups, wear this groups style, listen to this group of music, watch films from this group, category, category, category.

Society is allowed to say we don't want her, but she's not allowed to say "I don't want society."

The problem is, everything is too social. Without society, there's no room for survival of an individual. If you want to survive, you have to join then. You know that saying 'if you can't beat them, join them'. I don't think they realise how true that saying is.

Well, I guess it's a good job I have no particular interest in survival then, isn't it?

Everyone's fat, even if their body is nothing but skin and bone, because everyone has been brought up in this modern world to believe that 'want' is the same as 'need'.

I've heard people say 'I couldn't survive without my...'; computer, playstation, coffee machine, weed, etc, etc, etc.

In actuality, you could. None of that is paramount to survival. People in soppy love stories tell their lovers they can't live without them.

In actuality you probably could. This is a bit of a hazy area, since people have actually killed themselves when their loved ones split up with them or died.
However, if you continue to care for your own survival even after a loved one leaves, you can actually survive without them.

Loneliness is a poison, but if you happen to be a masochist like me, then even though you need people to love and adore you, you will push everyone away.

You will never fully understand why you do it, but you'll do it.

You'll push yourself, other people will push you, family, friends, society, the world, life in fucking general...and eventually you'll feel nothing. I even found myself thinking about my rats dying and how they probably should. I don't know if I feel anything for them. They're my rats. They're cute. They make funny little noises and scratch their noses.

But they'd probably be better dead. I think animals have a more innate sense of life, and are probably more empathic than 'humans'. I think they probably feel more than we do. Perhaps when I stopped feeling, it got pushed into them for safe keeping or something. When they die, they'll be released from their cages, they'll be able to scurry around wherever they want to scurry, instead of being locked up. The order of life on this planet is; I can't set them free because something bigger and nastier will just kill them.
But in return for living, they're stuck in cages, trapped.

My body is my cage and I'm trapped. The only way I'll be free, is if I fly. I have no wings, sadly, and so there's only one way to fly...

some day I'll fly away