-how dare you fucking pricks assume
-that what they're telling you is true
-they're just as ignorant as you
-continuous mind-fuck since the womb

-why do we look to the stars
-when our future is here

-you want to be somebody
-but so does everybody
-just step to your left
-and wait, in, line

-i'm tired of being ignored
-i'm tired of looking away
-and i wait for the day
-that our voices take the floor

-Our dreams distract us
-while our freedom slips away
- you've been looking deep within yourselves
- and all you've managed to display
-is some grotesque fascination
-with what it looks like in your ass

-shed a tear for the lonely one
-whos life became reality
-he no longer sees the light
-that blinds the actuality

Here comes the future! Soon to be my present and thus just as interminably monotonous as the current point in time. It's coming rings on deaf ears. Our whole lives we live in the future, always working our present like a peice of clay so that it can be molded into the shape we desire. Humans have no true concept of mortality. They fear death, hoping that some how its relentless grasp will some how miss their presence. Humans are always hoping for the philosopher's stone, the fountain of youth, and as a result they are constantly shaping their present in order to prepare themselves for the infinite future. Yet, the future never comes. It is constantly swallowed by the present abyss. My present will always reflect a desire for my future to be near utopic and as I result I will never be able to truely live my life. The continuity of life knows no future, its only concern is the present. In order to truely appreciate life I have to learn to look at the present in a new perspective. But I refuse. Because I am a masochist. Again I forget the most vital peice of knowledge relevant to the perception of this one sided discouse. I am an idiot. Ultimatly the issue rests on the question "What in the hell do I know". In my life I have gone from Presbyterian Christian, to Nation of Islam Extremist, to diehard Liberal, to horny adolescent (which of course I still remain), to a person who thinks far to much for his own good. My ability to think dooms me to a life of sorrow. Yes I know, poor me, who the hell cares? Life is a lunch line, and even though the food that is poured onto your tray may in no way be considered "good", you wait in the goddamn line like every other miserable fuck, becuase somehow you hope your slop poured on to your tray will be different. Im not depressed, I'm merely insane.

Once again my life's path has suffered another regressive blow. I'm not sure how temporary this is but a few days ago I believed I had some conception of where I would go in life. Recently I've aquired the belief that society instills values within humans that counter the natural biological processes that place us within the animal kingdom. We as human's must never forget that in the end, at our most basic level we are simply another creature on this planet. It can be noted that our intellect is the dividing barrier between our complexity and the simplicity of other creatures but none the less we are still animals. I am both ashamed and embarrased to admit my hunger for violence, my thirst for fear. Millions of years of evolution have engendered multiple traits in all animals, including humans. At our most basic levels humans are a dominant group who achieve dominion through violence, and thus I don't believe that our shopping malls, and amusement parks should try to viel the urges that generation and generation of cellular advancement have brought upon us. Society has taught us to conceal these emotions, to hide them away like pornography or an embarrasing personal effect, but none the less, no matter how deep these instincts are buried there dominance over our behaviors is supreme. Civilation has deprived us in practicing these traits and as a result we hunger for them even more. To kill is a sin and peace is the ideal yet to uphold these ideas is going against our very nature. A passive society leaves the testosteron fueled males within our society always looking for another avenue into which they can direct their hate. We watch football, and boxing, we get into barfights, and domestic disputes, we do anything we can to fuel that urge. At some point within all of this realization I realized that more then anything else I am an animal, a warrior, an individual who's desires to dominate and control through physical force are the predominat compulsion that dictate his actions. I can feel it within me like a fire which illuminates some remote cavern that had remained cold and dark for quite some time. The more I thought about it the more my desire became justified. And I longed for it to be fufilled. Within our society there is only one avenue that allows a human to effectively utilize the natural instincts that define his place within the animal kingdom. This place is know as "the military". This word means so many different things to so many people. It means pride and shame, bravery and fear, power and weakness, but when I brought the idea of me doing something which has always felt right to me up to my parents, the military only meant one thing; death. I don't doubt the fact that to join the military is to join the game of probabilities where I could become one of the many or the few who lose their life. I fear death to some extent. I fear both it's mystery and its finality. None the less, I have accepted death and understand that I would rather die feeling alive then stay alive always to be dead inside. How many people within this subjucated and hopeless society can say that they died doing what they loved? I realize that because the dead don't speak this is an impossibility but regardless the message still holds validity. I do not know whether or not the military will fufill my desires or whether even these desires are only temporary. What I do know is that I am willing to find out. My parents have sacrificed my ambition, my personal hapiness, because to them, death, regardless of its circumstances, is undesirable. To my parents, life's objective is to push death farther and farther away until you have no more energy and death's embrace finally reaches you. It would be "too much" for them to see me enter into the armed forces. Regardless of how I feel about dying, both my mother and father, do not want to see the son they have put so much love into travel to the realm of nonexistance. I understand that to bury a loved one is difficult. The knowledge that the person that you have known so well, that was such an intricate part of your life, is no longer there, for the duration of the universe and time itself, is almost incomprehendable. To bring sorrow unto my family causes me a deal of suffering. And now yet again, I am hopeless, my life's path has been confrontated with another road block. Fuck...

One more day. Sometimes it helps not to look at everything so very deeply and to just realize that I hate school because...I do. But of course that can never be enough. So then, why do I hate school? School and I don't really get off on a good start each morning and the reason for that is that it is, in fact, the morning, in which I dredfully accept school's essential "oppurtunities" in walk through the cold steel doors of my seven hour daily incarceration. The morning, in itself, really has nothing disagreeable about. I harbor no animosity toward the morning as a time of day. The hues of purple, orange and red as beams of sun peer above the horizon, the call of birds, the fresh air, and the scent of dew, are all cleary worth of appreciation. No, it is not the hate of the morning that I feel, but rather the way I feel in the Morning that I hate. The morning is the beginning of the day, and I have to wake up in the beginning of the morning, at a time when morning classification barely becomes eligible. Upon opening my eyes at this abrupt hour my vocabularly is limited to one word (besides the standard expletives one mutters at a period of great dissaproval such as "Fuck, man", "shit", "dammit" or a very happy mixture of the three) and that word which has doubtlessly been uttered within the caverns of almost every "inmates" brain is...Why?...
I return from a 2 hour break and this thought is no longer as profound as it was when I began. The thoughts in my mind expire quite rapidly, maybe some sort of solution is needed (a refrigeration system possibley)...I'm so fucking funny.

I feel like I'm going insane. But how can I be sure. Is there some sort of insanity standard that I can look up in a book to see if I qualify? Do I have to pull out my hair and scream strange things to people I've never meant? Insanity to me is a break from reality, and while I've always considered myself to be a very realistic person, everyone around me appears to uphold a reality very different from my own conception. Thus, is reality defined by the status quo or by truth, whether or not that truth appears before the eyes of the masses? Let me now interupt this pseudo-philsophical rant to explain to the reader that none of this is truely important to me because I've never been a person known to classify. Classification allows for approximation and generalization and these words (which are in themselves classifications of ideas and thus victims of their own meanings) have only lead to confusion and misconceptions of the people's "reality" in the past, and will continue to do so in the future. Yet I digress, and I'm going to have to ask the reader that he or she endure these disgressions because digression will occur frequently within my writing. They are the result of the fashion in which I communicate, nothing cohesive or structured, but rather a jumbled mess of ideas that are a window to the plum pudding of thoughts within my brain. So much thinking can give someone a headache but if that is the only price I have to pay for living my life with my mind as open as my eyes, then it is a price I will gladly pay, as I am sure countless other individuals have paid in the past, present and future. However, saying that a head pain was the only price paid for my nature is not only naive but completely absurd since the true result of my headwork is probably one of the harshest prices any person can pay. For at least a year, I have not been happy. Hapiness for me comes in small sample-sized spoon fulls which are quickly consumed and digested. While I'm still not completely sure that my stupidity (for I am almost completely sure that I am a fool and that I will continue to be one, evolving from one high calorie, non nutritional mindset to the next, until my death) is the cause of my sadness, I can be sure that both exist. They are two of the most powerful forces driving my life. However the question I have to ask myself is where are these forces driving me to? Yet, for now, the duties of my assumed life (the one where I get an "education", which will later cater to my employment, until I have enough money from that employment to buy a television which I will watch until I am contentfully locked in a rectangular box and dropped into a six foot hole, having lived a life of conquest rather then of progress, and died knowing that I only lived so that I could ultimately perish) call to me and so I must suspend this discourse until the next moment where my time is my own.