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My grandfather is dying... This is leaving me with impressions of just how ******** ephemeral the world is. Everything fades. I used to dillude myself with thoughts of supremacy, how I WAS GOD and you all were nothing. You know what? That's all bull s**t. I'm nothing. You're nothing. We're all nothing. Noneties, as Orson Wells used to say (a murder of the word nonentity). We are beings thought to be dead, that are still somehow alive, like the POW/MIA's of Vietnam, that still somehow keep showing up in various parts of the worlds.

You see, there is only one person who is able to help me through this. But, I'm going through one of my "The World Is Full Of Monsters" phases, and am seeing/hearing things that are making me question every damn thing... So, now, I'm terrified of losing her. I'm an insanely jealous person, so is she. Problem is, I infer inflection where none is present. Every statement becomes ominous, ever intention two-faced. Not from her, no, never. And that is mazing of itself... I'm worried of conspirators in our midst; those who condemn me without even knowing me. Those who intend to do her and I harm...

Thing is, I'll fight for her through any means. I'd take up arms, I'd kill with bared teeth, I'd massacre villages with no arms, and I'd destroy a person, drive them to that much hated fate of self-murder, with my words alone. All because I only trust her. Not a damned person else. Every other human/kin in existance does not deserve full trust. Instead, they deserve to be treated as, at most, rooks on set. I'd sacrifice a rook for the Queen.

I want her arms around me... Jobless, sick, losing more and more family/blood... Impending potentiality of doom through self-destruction... Want not, need more than anything. I've done so good on my own. Not a single goddamned cut or burn... No drinks... No drugs... But, I'm weakened... I need that reassurance. That physical contact that is NEVER afforded to me.

People pixelized, You don't grasp the severity of my situation. These are plain as day words, and none of you will realize the truth. Not even she will. ********, I don't even know the truth. Not with this haze of borderline induced psychosis fogging me out of actuality, into some half-assed view of semi-lucidity. I'm only creative because I've lost my mind again. I'm only romantic to this extent because I fear theft. I'm only appearing brave because of my spiteful huberous against the GOD that fills me with fear.

I need relief. I need her. I need to be able to be there for her... Don't know if any of those will ever happen again. When you lose touch on reality, there is no real view of the future, hardly any of the present. A schizophrenic will mesh timelines to the point of thinking something that happened two months ago, happened just last night. What about BP's?

Mnemosis is a curse, the symptom of hell dwelling. Heaven is a place without memory. Only the here and now, no hope for future, so no hopes may be dashed. I've no hope for the future, for I want no hopes to be dashed. Yet, I've naught but memory. I am in hell...

Yours in Loathe,
Austin Paul