I'm just reminded of my annoyance and disgust at people and society in my days lately. It's hard to just keep up the friendliness that I've been trying to encourage in myself. Not that I've been particularly unfriendly. No point in spreading that to others. It's frustrating. Mildly. I remember nights.....I remember nights when I was angry, when I was too hot to even feel annoyance or disgust such as I do now, I was too all-consumed in my anger. Just remembering reminds me...reminds me that I still burn, that I'm still as hot as the flames of the bonfire, else I would be dead; I would have ended my life long ago.
What I'm saying is I don't understand people. I feel different from them. I am different from them. Even at the times when I'm most happy, like these last few days, I experience it in inhuman sorts of ways.
Power? What for? I don't want things. Things are things. If I didn't have a computer to write on, to do things on, I'd have a journal and books. If not that, I'd still think it and I'd be lost in my head as I was when I was a child.
Real love, the sort that's beyond words. The love we read of, speak of but never see. I really can't think of anything else that isn't already obvious.
I don't fit in, not even in that stage role. I have no desire to manipulate and twist the people around me.
Hatred, violence, those things don't speak to me. They make me realize the good in me, they make me realize I'm human, I'm alive.
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