Aborted

These few months, I’ve been changing and changing, but isn’t change a substance in life? All this, it’s just fucking material living, sometimes, despite my taste and pleasure for torture and brutality, I can never stand violence.

I learnt just that recently, I’ve always hated fighting, I mean yeah, it is enjoyable, but come to think of it, violence isn’t anarchy.

Violence is just a little form of power we abuse to humiliate and overthrow others.

Brutality and torture to me are different; it just is. Because, I think, it’s not to gain more power, it’s just to eliminate.

And dear God, if you do even exist, I’m saying this loud and clear: I see no obligation to worship you.

But to me, we are the true gods; we create things beyond reality and set them to our parallel affiliates.

Joy Molina and I spent approximately 1095 days together as a couple, not counting the times we took breaks from our relationships.

I’ve decided to let her go; persistence is only pestilence.

She’s with this new guy now, I hope she’s happy. Yes people, I do feel fucking sad, but truly, what am I if I choose to aimlessly drag myself at love. Romance is just my little way of avoiding practical society, kisses are words said beyond being said and sex is either material of essential.

Who gives a fuck about sex nowadays, you just get passionate or whatever you’re into, orgasm, and it’s over, the credits roll, you leave the cinema, the ending theme song never seems to come on with impact.

But what about me? What do I want?

There are many possibilities, there may not even be a future.

People say we live in a cynical world, I don’t just beg to differ, I’ll prostitute myself for it.

Society is cynical. The world, unfortunately has to move in syncretism.

I’m 16, with a vision in life where only I can understand, because making people understand these days, it’s pointless.

So tell me, the natural of dwelling; something intrinsic and subterranean?

I’m depressed, schizophrenic, insomniatic, delirious, skeptical, nihilistic, and anarchical.

Anthropophobic, mnemophobic, philophobic, panophobic.

Sometimes, dreams are useless, but they guide us. Not many people will always get what they want; just look at me, I wanted to marry a girl and raise children with her, but she’s gone a long way with another guy now.

I’ve always wondered how my dad felt when my mom wanted to leave him for another guy while he was having cancer, I somehow know how that feels like.

No, I don’t feel sad, but just nostalgic about everything.

She told me she left me because she wanted to be free and single, but I guess some people hate to be honest.

I’m not angry either, just well, rather pissed, ignivomous and just fucking confused about what I should feel.

Delirium isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.

So here I am, at the edge of my reality, screaming out what seems to be the most important moment of my current existence.

Fuck society!

Fuck money!

Fuck all.

No seriously, why does everything have to be so cynic.Clinically, I am a contagion of no intrinsic suffering and pain.

And as of now, I don’t know what I’m talking about. So farewell for now, esteemed reader.