EVERY TIME I START STUDYING I GET SO SEVERELY DISTRACTED I SPEND TEN FUCKING HOURS STARING INTO SPACE GOING WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME! I haven’t been able to do anything! Fulbrecht bothers me, stupid weirdo who touches girls bother, things that shouldn’t be bothering me…are fucking bothering me. INCLUDING FINALS! AND TESTS! I want to rip out people’s throats, cut ’em down with a sawed off shotgun, a normal shotgun, old school Colt revolver, or semi-old school .45, I want to kill people. I want to taste their blood, I swear to god, I want to bathe in the blood of other (possibly inferior) people. I want death to overwhelm me, swallow me whole like some, some…infinitesimal distraction. I want to, I want to do things I should not be saying out loud and involves lots and lots of people dying, just dying like rag dolls and puppets without strings, flinging their arms about wildly. Lost and without direction, just these vessels for my pleasure, my pain, my estranged mind, my decaying mental health! For my silly needs and wishes and decrepit fucking imaginings. I want to slowly peel off someone’s skin and lick the blood running down their face, I want to hear the sizzle and the crackle of flesh frying like bacon in a pan, as the blade cuts slowly, a small incision down their side, their kidney on a plate, rich red blood on pure white china, silver knives and crystal goblets overflowing with more blood, warm against the ice of the crystal (conduction, by the way). I shall taste my own torment.
That’s, almost, exactly how I’ve been feeling…for most of the entire day, like, I’m so serious, I’ve been wanting to kill people today for the longest time. It’s a mixture of finals, that kid, that other other kid (both of which have been mentioned already), my glasses snapping in two and how I was blind for half the day, cutting three classes, including Brown (I feel like shit for that, ugh, but not for Dunkel) and for so many other trivial fucking things. I think I’m PMSing, but it’s usually not this bad. I really think it’s just finals.
I feel so fucking Sex and the City right now, except I doubt any of them wanted to bathe in the blood of their imaginary captives. This rant probably makes me more fucked up than most normal people, I really want blood. I want everything to…break, break into little tiny pieces, so that I can stand around and not pick them up. So I can see each fragment of everything, everyone just lying there, beautiful, beautiful entropy. All closed systems tend towards entropy. Time, time isn’t even existent, in simpler terms, it’s apparently the measure of the amount of ever growing entropy in the universe. We’re all heading towards some massive heat death that no one, no one living now, will live to see. And eventually, they say, it’s going to all head back the other way and death will be come life and entropy will flow the other way. It’s like an accordion, like a slinky, reverberating across the boundaries, if there are any, and I doubt there are because it’s the universe, and just over and over and over again, this moronic cycle of death, creation and more death.
I don’t really know why I, you, anyone’s lives have any fucking purpose!! That German that, that nihilist German guy goes ‘Rationality robs life of purpose’, I don’t have a drop, not a fucking drop of ration-fucking-ality, so WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PURPOSE!? I’m going through my angst filled teen years suffering this existential shit no one else thinks about. I’m dumping all my troubles on to you because it makes me feel better on the inside and this is probably what Werther did. It’s a good simulation, ‘cept he has paragraphs. I’m sick and tired of just about everything. I want the world to end in a blazing ball of nothing, fire, nah, just nothing. Just a soft whisper across the silent vastness of space and we’re gone, disappeared, as if nothing ever happened. That’d be so pleasant.
I’m sincerely lacking the will to live. I wasn’t kidding about that suicide shit with Bibi. Oh, don’t joke about that. Fuck you, bitch, I wasn’t joking about that. Jesus, I hate people like that. I hate and love people at the same time, isn’t that just marvelous? I want to hug people, hug them so hard that I hope they choke to death and I’ll probably end up strangling all of them. Everyone I see, every single fucking person I see. You’re okay, right? Are you going to think that I am totally fucked up after reading this, if you don’t think so already?
My existence is meaningless, I care not for anyone but myself, I’ve tasted misery, despair and loneliness. They say that’s what you need to find joy and true happiness, to have known the other extreme. I think I’ve been cheated, because I haven’t a fucking clue what this bullshit emotion they call happiness is.
Man, I wish I had less vested in this world, this life. Have I truly anyone but myself?
Annddd….Now, I’m done. That made me feel better. Consider this my second letter. I’m sorry, for the length. Read it some other time. It just felt good writing it knowing someone else will eventually read it. Farewell, sweet friend.