An Unwelcome Guest

A disclaimer to the world.

I really don’t belong. There’s no conceivable place on this planet where I belong.

The public is my enemy. If you put someone in front of me, I’ll do everything in my power to disregard them, including not-disregarding them. My mask is so genuine that it even deceives myself half the time, such is the cost of being able to blend into society, and avoid being a homeless bum the rest of my pitiful existence (of which will continue to be a pitiful existence, bum or not, however bums are publicly pitiful, which is why I’m willing to throw myself away most of the time to wear a mask).

I hate the people I’ve yet to even meet yet. I hate the government which shelters and herds everyone around like cattle. I hate this world for choosing to exist in an infinitely improbable universe.

If you choose to listen or read anything I ever say, you should be cautious that you do not become me if you do not wish it; I apologize for not mentioning that sooner but yet…how could someone I’ve never met whom I’d hate to meet be any more important than myself? Or what I feel like garbling out, at least.

I’m already dead, you see, ‘on the inside’ as some would say. I chose when to die, quite a long time ago, perhaps a year or two at least…a long time for a dead person to wander, at any rate. I can’t see any reason to kill myself yet…just like I can’t see any reason to live a happy, fruitful life for no reason…

Every single option imaginable is still available to me, and I live on by making decisions to broaden that horizon…living with a fake persona to hide the darkness that so easily turns others away, as they become inflicted by the same neutrality, the same hopelessness that is myself. Getting through highschool a year before my peers, finishing up college with a degree that I could find no better alternative to with regard to the field I’m going into…

Soon I’ll have figures, money, more than I’ll ever know what to do with. I’ll have less time to work with, but after I can support myself, and gain a minor reputation through my work, I can recoup lost time fairly easily.

Choices. So many choices. Those that would, ironically, net me a death sentence, surely; along with those that I would be seen as a ‘good person’ for…a ‘saint’…I can’t even decide if I’d rather just watch the whole world burn….although, if it ended up being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I doubt I’d have enough willpower to pass it up, out of sheer curiosity even.

I might end up never deciding anything particularly groundbreaking with my life. I may choose to do nothing but keep my options open as long as I can before they all whither away like a constantly-watered houseplant that never has its soil changed throughout the years…but that itself is a choice. Death is also a choice I can make for myself, and yet it isn’t, for if I don’t decide on it, I will soon die no matter.

Everything….is so..pointless…..