my well. thoughts.

so this is me. 19 years old. going on 20. it's 2011. i still type or blog without the standard rules of english - capital letters, correct punctuation or whatnot. i still believe that anyone is entitled to write in any way they want, without full-stops, commas or suffocation. our brains are filled with... so much juice, numbers, random words floating about that we can't possibly squeeze them all down through the funnel and into the blender, although i do admire the difficulty of it and how so many remarkable people have achieved this. one downside of rambling off with words that first come to mind is that people don't understand our sentences. they'd have to read more to get the rough idea, if they bother to put up with more nonsense.



oh dear. i'm talking for the sake of talking now. i shall type whatever appears on my mind. oh dear. i wonder how my brain looks like. i wonder why it isn't empty. i wonder why its texture looks exactly like that of mojojojo's protruding brain matter. oh dear.



i am afraid. i am depressed. i've been saying this the whole evening. it must have been that documentary i'd watched earlier, about the japanese cannibal issei sagawa. what i'm about to say reveals my true thoughts and i am terrified. i am truly, terrified. that i identify with him. no, not in many ways but in some. he appears to be a normal, quiet, soft-spoken person, who seems to have the ability to feel, to experience emotions like warmth, sadness, depression and compassion. he really does. it's just a matter of switching that gene of compassion off and on whenever the body and heart tells him to do so. if he switches it off, his inner demon comes barging out and killing any form of good, with dominant feelings of the inability... to feel. goodness. i feel that i have that in me. and i don't know whether i should kill myself, but this continuously came up in my mind, "i have the capacity to kill someone and do what he did too." and then i went on to think, "we all do," when in fact, most of us don't. i was becoming like issei, thinking that it was possible for anyone to feel emotions like how killing is normal. it's part of the universe.



oh dear. i really hate it. it's like being stuck on a roller-coaster and you can't get out. help. i hate what i'm saying.



when someone dies, you don't really think about it. it becomes a corpse. you can't. unless the thought of what you'd done sets in. maybe. it won't. immediately. god.



i hate this topic. i feel like erasing what i've written. i may not feel this way in another point of time, i might even feel so enraged with my thoughts and myself. but this is me, honestly, at this period. i might change drastically tomorrow. or in 2 hours. how dynamic we all are. i don't ever want to experience these emotions again. they're eating at me, devouring my heart and soul. i want to hold on to pretty things, to goodness, to health and everything nice. rest in peace, dear renee. you were unfortunate, but you were warm and friendly. that's what i'd remember and love most about you.