I probably should say something nice. Some uplifting speech about human decency and morality. Yes, I could do that. I would probably start with how average people, despite their shortcomings, keep struggling against the wind, ever fighting an uphill battle. How, despite all I've been through, I'm still here, but the truth is, what really matters is the conclusion, right? The end. The moment your heart stops and you die. Expire like a box of fucking low fat milk. The absolute moment, from which you don't return here.

The truth is, I don't know.

I never liked travelling. You know, the long and hard wait before you arrive at your certain point of destination. To me, arriving was the point, not sitting in a tightly packed box of metal, running at 80mph. Not that I feared machines or anything, but I just always missed the point.

Whenever I sat on a bus, constantly I was thinking about how I could, just skip through this part. My abilities and actions, along with my space was restricted, because I went from A to B.

To me, this is life. This slowly dying piece of meat, my mind is imprisoned within. And not just my body, but this place. The planet. And the universe. But I probably could live with that.

What I can not live with is this ever lasting race against time, to achieve whatever goals you've got. To work a miserable job, until you get retired and can enjoy sitting in a chair all day long, complaining about the healthcare system. My work, cannot be done. I can't do it, and neither can you. No matter how long I live, I can't beat the odds. I can't miraculously turn people around, and make this world into a living paradise. I never will be able to sit back and enjoy. You know why? Because even if I could accomplish all I want to, I am restricted. I am destined to die, like the rest. I honestly fear death. More than you, or anyone in the world. I wake up, and until I go to sleep, I can't take my mind off death. I just don't want to. It took two decades to build up what I've got. Believe me, It wasn't a fucking hayride. I struggled, fought, and believed, but no matter what, I die like the rest of this incompetent group of idiots. Egoism set aside, I am better than most. I think faster, I see better, and I care. But no matter how awesome things I do, I still reach the same conclusion. What is the point then?

Suppose there is an afterlife. A thing I very much want to believe. Actually, after this many years, I am slowly reaching to the conclusion that it does exist.

Why? Why denying one god, and heaven and any religious attempt to beat fear of death, then suddenly start accepting that the mind endures? Because I see. I see and I think. I create things with my mind. From thin air. I envision, I imagine. I observ, and at some point I understand. I am not a piece of meat and bones and blood. I understand I exist. Something that understands it exists, just cannot disappear. I really have it in my mind. The thoughtprocess in which I finally understood how we are just not what we appear to be, but there are no words for explaining it.

To really dumb it down, I guess the best explanation is that I am suspecting this is not the absolute reality.

It is a scary thing. To understand something, and just being unable to express it with the common channel. But even the fact that I know something that cannot be explained, ironically explains the fact that we are more than our genetic material, education and base morality. It is the little piece of dust on your eyeballs. When you try to look at it, it just moves out of sight. In deep, I understand much more than I can tell, but the reality is that, even if I could tell, you would have absolutely no reason to believe me. Doesn't matter really.

What matters is that I am slowly disconnecting from this existence. What you can't see as real, you can't emphatize with.

I guess there was an inital point of this post, but I don't know what it was anymore. Not that it matters anyway. I am tired, my head hurts, I feel like shit, and I just don't know what to fight for anymore. For me, not much is at stake at this very moment.

At the risk of sounding really pathetic, there's only one thing I really give a shit about. One other person. For me, the whole world could end this instant, and all I'd be concerned about is her. Is this sanity? Don't know, but it is more real to me than anything else. Besides all the hormonal functions, the regularity of it all, I think of her. Perhaps it does not matter anymore. I'll still care, because I haven't anything else left.

I just don't care of you people. I tried pretending that I care, and maybe, to some extent I want to see how you rise up to your potential, but I care not. Why would I anyway?

To see it get better? For the sake of moralities? The lack of morality is the reason of our kind's existence, and to be honest, I am only here, because of innumerable instances of not caring. They did not care about morality when they made us be. They did not give a shit about us. And there was this two hundred thousand years while my ancestors, line by line, did not care about creating another life into this pointless plane of existence. They knew. They probably did, that how shitty our world is, but still, they created another life form, and let it live. Pretending that it makes sense. I don't honestly care about anything here. I just wish to wake up, from all this madness. I just want something to wake me up, to be in the absolute reality, finding her, still beside me, and to be through all I've seen. That would probably make me happy. Until then, every day, I'll be afraid of death, I'll fear of the man behind the curtain, the emperor behind the king, the gods from the sky, the downfall of our civilization. I just can't enjoy the 'road'.

I am tired and I'm sick, and probably not half of this makes any sense. Probably it doesn't. I am simply not in the state of knowing. My mind is so numb, my senses so full of pain, I can't decide it now. More often than not, what comes out here, is not supposed to make sense. It just pure unregulated pain in form of words. and when things get crappy, I come here, blow three pages of inconsistent crap without even pretending I know what I'm doing. But this is more than some regular instance of sudden urge for writing. I am not this senseless unless I am on the verge of becoming very fucking sick. But just those few hours, before the high temperature kills the buzz, your mind alters, it slowly becomes something else, something alike raw power of creativity, from which the greatest thoughts emerge. This is actually a great way for me to predict sickness. First I feel pretty fucking bad, then I feel great. Then I feel bad. I always loved having fewer. I am more calm at those times than anytime else.

This is perhaps a mind defending mechanism of mine. When things happen I can't bear anymore, I go down. It is really great, believe me.

Anyway, please be advised that this post makes no sense. I probably won't even remember of it. My mind, right now is on a faraway place, because it knows when it comes back, it'll have to deal with all this joy. I just wanted to know how it sounds like when I am completely out of my head.
What it really can prove is that only after losing my consciousness, I can lose the ability to type.
If the government knew how high a fever gets me, it would tax it. Anyway. Just don't make false assumptions based on this post. I am so fucked up, I couldn't even get up. Literally, I am shaking so much, I couldn't stand, but still, typing is as natural as breathing.

I am one weird duck, aren't I? The thing is, that what I am in the middle of, I couldn't cope with right now, so my body shuts down the mind through some sickness. I really barely know who I am right now. Moment by moment, my temp. rises, and I slowly lose my grip on reality. If I didn't, probably I'd be hanging from the ceiling.

Conclusion: Either I've gone mental or sick, but it is certainly rare that a man of my state can write anything besides arrrrgh. Appreciate the value of it.

BTW, when I find out about this post I'll probably delete it, so don't remind me of it.

Some of us can hear sharply and with a perfect pitch, but more sounds cause pain like nails on a chalkboard. I can see far more than most but a cloudless day burns my eyes. I picture machines with 20 parts in my mind all at once, but can't stop the pictures when I sleep. We must take the good with the bad.