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Fakeness

everything started as a child growing up in a rural area of mid Michigan. Fuck setting the scene, I don't care. Started this last sentence with a reason or was it a reason? I have no fucking clue anymore. Did I think that thought out of genuine intention or just write it for the sake of needing a opening. Or idea to leach onto, a very already planted controlled human response on this surface of rock. Does anyone have real thoughts. I believe a select few have this ability, we or myself repeat already played out scenarios or norms we learned by repetition and a conditioning to pop culture?

Are we conditioned? I have no idea why I asked that just now. Impulse to write thinking idea would to a moment of creativity. NO, I write three sentences and abandon the initial idea because of falseness. The ability to have no follow through or to execute a idea beyond my pre conditioned thoughts. Who am I?
I stare at myself in the mirror wondering how I aged and what the fuck happened? My childhood was robbed, agitated, and stripped of positivity. You would be terribly bored if I rambled on about my self deprecating thoughts and a poor me story. Nobody wants to listen or understand and if they choose to engage then it is self worth. The conditioning of human social interaction is to shrug it off and live your own life. Essentially saying to be alone, but its a double meaning that tears a soul apart. The emptiness exist everywhere to no escaping, hum and live a unburdening world.

I have never been in love. There I said it. Your reading this with judgment now, calling bullshit. Fuck this guy and hes playing the mysterious card to life for attention. Everything is with a intent for attention, this we as humans understand. My life's existence is to avoid attention or anything that is who Christopher is as a human.Years dreaming, secluded, distant into a escape. Human existence? The moments pass in my head of emptiness. Why explain myself? Why even care? No end plan other than a shitty way to make myself justified. My earliest memories I can remember are all negative, painful, distant, and defeated. Growing up with a lack of love and connection made this monster to who is present. Distant to human connection.

The idea of writing further is creating a urge to throw up in disgust. No realness exist, who is it to say I have not read the above in a novel some where? Better yet, the long history of humans that probably already written these words and the above is just a copied hacked focal of a shitty writer? The inner fight with myself. Write as therapy? Write for vanity? Write for Why? Authors are in a way able to teach folks life. How do you write from the Dark space and have dignity? Only literature that is hypothetically to teach generations would be mere self destruction and disappointment.

The earth is dying and humans have infected the entire planet with greed, politics, self serving principles. Beauty. Beauty is a defined word. Distinguished. A word to express a passion, love or admiration. In a very moment beauty can be found everywhere and in the very unusual places. Living a life in a haze of negative, forced fear, thoughts and what is our realty. One never steps back and can appreciate the value of a singer exposing her heart to the world. Humans are very fascinating, if art never existed, we as creatures would go instinct quickly. The study of past humans and the astonishing defeats and creativity to express life is of beauty. The larger worldly existence, we live a small and short life. What are we to do as humans to advance civilization or push the very boundaries of our existence.

Unsure how much I can hold on? Going through the steps, the daily routines or the minimal effort to exist and not be a complete waste. A small sliver of my mind feels the idea to not disappoint my mother and only her. She keeps me focused just enough to stay awake.
I am immediate annoyed with anyone who dates me. The sex is good at first then, the same patterns occur, weeks of sleeping next to each other immediately are ruined by expectations. This is the time you fuck me, this is the time you snuggle or we have sex this way. Some days Im tired and ask for her to be on top. Immediately she gets tired and now I am on top controlling everything. Its like a clock ticking around the eternal circle of life. Before we even lay down I can predict the sex, the intimacy. This sounds far fetched, over the years gentlemen I have conducted experiments and studies. The results are the same. Of course like any male, heterosexual being, sex is great. Its inherent to our self animal instinctual chemistry. The same played out scenario is lacking my attention.

Further gathering myself into a void of not even willing to court a women. The results will always be the same. Our relationship will be great for a few weeks but the boredom and repetitiveness will eventually and immediate occur. Then I will distant myself and end our relationship. Every time hurting the other lover, which in return deepens my sadness. The hole grows more and greater open to eventually engulf my self to death. I do not want to hurt anyone trying to live this waste of life. The very people finding happiness in everything. I envy them. I envy the philistines. Empathy.

Need to watch my mouth, the shit that comes out. Hold the inner voice, create a fake. Create and kill my inner self little at a time. Just want to love the few humans I hold close, try my best to ignore the repetitions of their demeanors. The notes that I keep telling me to compliment, buy gifts and appreciate the humans are in my wallet. Forgetting sometime to read them, I work on this everyday. I try and keep these humans close to me and I hope that one day I can be one of those humans that are a good person. Escaping my inner hole, blackness sometimes engulf my world. Distance is what they observe I believe. I have no clue where I am but hoping they understand that I care, appreciate them as humans. Humans judge each other as a self defense mechanism. Humans can understand each other with a split second in their own unique understanding. How does one human adapt to so many other species self defense mechanism's without being looked at as a “human”.

Finger tips slide among each other and we pretend. Fake ourselves into understanding to appease our minds and move on from a understanding. We are OCD in nature. Knowing is knowing that knowing we are just human and simple. Blindness is the existence we move along in herds, we have millions of data inputing into our minds hourly and daily where we need a control. This is the blind, fake, or self defensive mechanism we create to handle other humans. We all know the realities and choose to explore the unknown rather than focusing on the known.

Exist. Fake. Explore. Naive. Exist.



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The following comments are for "Humans "
by NucleusFire





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