Just Not true

Today I had a wonderful expenditure of complete and utter humanity-loathing. I barely remember how it started. I was dandy in the morning. It was dark, there was nobody about, and I was wearing new clothes. We took a usual detour to the pub, although unsettling enough, I was really craving that drink before college had barely started. Talking, talking, talking. Desolation. More talking. She talked for half an hour straight about a tattoo. Somehow she managed to talk me into a crucially spiralling depression. My mind, as it does, wandered from her face to the empty and lonely building we had sheltered inside. Too much time to think. All is emptiness. I still hear yapping and wonder if I ever will get the chance to speak. The chance arises but I am already looking as sick as a dog. She thinks I look as though I am in "mental pain". Mental pain is subjective. The state of humanity is not. She talked again and my eyes lurked upon young men playing pool and buying drinks and doing what a young generation is supposed to do. By this time I think I lost it.

Cut to violent, passionate existential thoughts. I decided at that moment that I didn't care about anybody in the world. I only care about truth. I see no young men doing what young men are supposed to. I see A human bi-product of their mother's and fathers, a measley twenty or so years "experience" of human nature. I understand the absurdness of any of their existences. Smoke, drink, fuck, have children. Teach your children to do the same. I wade in jealousy at anyone fortunate enough to unexpectedly die young. I look at them still, without any expectation. I am not interested in a single living organism unless they invent a time machine or can teach me how to fly. All at once an overwhelming loathing. Loathing of earth, God, school, work, love, emotion. Contrastingly, a spark of sadness on what I am missing out from love. I'm sure it would feel great to love, and find contentness in only that. But to love me? I wouldn't put anybody through the trouble of that. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I look at humans like individual products from the same manufacturer. There are minor tweaks in everyone, but underneath there is the enforced conforming and they retaliate with the same fucking emotions.

I know lust. I appreciate aesthetic beauty. It only takes a small thought session to understand the naiveity in my ways and forget about them. I don't know what is vanity, pride, obsession, lust or ego. Are they not the same thing? All I understand is that I do not care. I care for no one. I am not interested in anything except my own truth. I'll say it again. An overwhelming disgust and disinterest in other human bodies. What can I do with them that hasn't been done before? And what do they want from me? I am saddening myself.

By now I am gone. I am away. People start not only to notice, but to verbally communicate to me their worrying. I can't talk anymore. I can't smile. I can look only upwards or to the left. Then again I do not care. Nothing and nobody matters to me. The thought of sitting in class crushes the very spirit of my soul. I take my seat and continue the way I have been behaving. I don't mean it, I just have less than nothing to say. By now my writing seems to be suffering. One hundred and twenty minutes. One hundred minutes of dictating what to write. I miserably note a change in my handwriting with every new emotion or lackthereof that fleets and flys. By the end of my pessimistic experiment I can barely force the pen hard enough to scratch the paper. My energy seems to have diminished and blown itself up in a cloud of smoke. I am in a daze, I have violent hunger pains, and I am forgetting the planet I was born on. I wish I could forget. But my eyes are weary and I struggle to raise my lids for long enough to hold sight of the board. A friend of mine keeps staring at me and they do not stop playing with my earrings and poking me and doing things I would completely give up just to live in my head for one moment longer.