thoughts

~ On the Precipice ~

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~ On the Precipice ~

“It had been another day of isolation in a city of thousands. The alienation was worse than ever and I wanted to write down and share my story with them. I stared at the blank page and lifted my fingertips toward the keyboard. In a moment of desperation, I hurled myself towards humanity. I offered my heart, my blood, my guts, my soul. I offered every ounce of myself to those stern-eyed creatures of culture and convention. Naturally, they didn’t want anything to do with me. I understood that, I guess. I was an ugly piece of work, a manic mind incapable of reasonable or rational thought. I knew I was making a fool of myself by sharing the mess from my mind, but I guess I just desperately wanted someone to see things from my perspective. Whenever I wrote, I often envisaged a sane and sensible person strolling down the sidewalks of society. I guess a sinister part of me just wanted to drag them into the woods of my madness; to show them the solitary world in which I resided. It was hopeless, I guess. No one cared what I had to say, and after a few minutes I wondered if I cared anymore either. In my bones, I knew that there was no chance of ever being understood. My soul had been corrupted and my cards had been dealt. No matter what I did or where I went in this world, I was doomed and destined to be an outcast – an outsider. A stupid alien roaming the fringes of sanity and society, of suicide and madness.”

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