Aren't I a little crazy?

I read The Hacker’s Manifesto (blogged about below) for my speech in public speaking. I got the review forms and stuff back.

Scored a 92 out of a 100. I’m pretty proud of myself.

I’ve been having an okay week.

I don’t know what else to write about. I feel like I’ve found isolating myself from things like society and everything is just so much more fun.

I can’t help it… otherwise, I feel like Im being strangled by everything. All at once. It’s not even funny.

It’s a demon that needs to constantly be awakened.

So when there is angst and depression, the best companion is the lack of companionship.

It’s like poking the demon with a stick on fire, just to wake it up.

And then it wakes up, the lump in your throat becomes heavier, and it feels like it’s about to rain.

And get very dark. And the walls and everything are just going to close in.

It’s like claustrophobia. Don’t you think?

The thought of being lonely. Or just loneliness in itself.

But it’s a demon that constantly wakes up.

And then it nibbles and shreds apart all the delicate fabrics of a comprehensive reality.

So that there is no more vision of the common truth.

It’s more likely a transformation, or enlightenment. Or maybe more like de-enlightenment.

And to think it all starts with depression and loneliness.

But it’s like a headache that won’t ever go away.

Because the demon isn’t just something that you can put back in the bottle. And you get to make no wishes at all.

Because nothing is listening to them, really. So it’s pretty much pointless.

When you realize this, you can rest assured that the threads of reality have been worn out. And the knot is loose, and the petals are all falling to the floor.

Bloodshot red, on the white grainy pavement.

Why do we tend to create Gods to begin with? Only to place them on a pedestal so high, that they’re prone to fall off one day, sooner or later. And everyone does, because everyone is human. Everyone will one day fall of the metaphorical pedestals they are resting on, in someone else’s head. Imagination. Vision of reality. The common comprehensive reality.

But it’s just a dream to me, anyway. Because that’s a reality that’s much more understandable to me at this point. Every other reality has fallen to the ground to be shattered into a million pieces of confusion. And so, this makes just as much sense as everything else has to this point in life.

It’s funny, but is this what you would describe living?

A constant tumble.

A question mark.

An unexamined life is not worth living.

Deep too, I remember I had a heart somewhere in there before the incident.

And now it’s just a black organ that pumps slug throughout my body. It’s like a void, actually, more like. A black hole. Yeah, pretty fucked up shit.

Can you start to see how fucked up things are?

Just some innocent victimless ramblings of an extra ordinarily depressed and angst-filled writer.

Don’t take things too seriously. There is no point.