"When the science gets done, and you're caught in the end, just what are you for all the time you've wasted? Just what are you? Are you another one of them? Are you ready to accept something? I don't even know you,who am I to talk to you?

And the science gets done, And it all just collapses in the end. It's a prototype, you know? I want to help, but I just can't help the helpless. Just like I can't help myself. But I don't think that I want to be helped.

What do you want? An extroverted answer? An introverted existence? I don't know what it is I have to do to get your approval, but I have a feeling that I don't want to do it just because it's in attempt to get your approval. I mean, it's not that I have anything against you, I don't even know who you are. Does that sound familiar?

Does this all sound familiar? I think it sounds like a reason to just go on about nothing and everything in particular. It's like the beginning of a biography, and autobiography. You know? How many times have you heard Lincoln come talk to you about how nice it was to free the slaves? You haven't. That doesn't matter. What matters is nothing right now. It's all a damn lie, you see?"

And he could go on for an eternity more with just more and more empty statements that we can all spout off from the top of our head on the drop of a pin just because we feel that they truly hold some quantity, some quality to them that anything else that we could have potentially said at that moment would not have had.

It's like a spider crawling all over your skin, waiting for a sign of weakness so it can attack. Why it's waiting for a sign of weakness, I don't know, but there's a lot of things that are best left unknown, if you were to ask me. What did you expect to find?

A blog full of content? I guarantee you that my blogs are 100% interesting-content free! But I can't guarantee that, because some people still manage to read them. I don't know. THere was something I was going to say, but I keep forgetting what I want to say, I keep losing the urge to even say something further, but I'm pushing the words out. They're coming one way or another. It gets so annoying when you struggle with chronic depression, you know?

Like, sometimes I feel like no one cares, like no one even wants to care, and like… nothing even fucking matters. How original and creative. But nothing ever happens to fix my judgement. Or change my judgement, rather. It's quite disturbing.

It's like letting an online community change your life. Except some actually can. Some actually have people on them, not just creatures. Not to say that you are all creatures. I'm sure most of you are human. Some form of it, at least. I can predict all sorts of responses to that statement. But I'm not going to, because then it's easy to just change your response so as to have it like I was wrong. That's the problem with people. Changing on the flip of a coin. I'm no different, but I try not to change. I try to be respectful.

but even I fail at that.

Do you know what it feels like to love? To be loved?

Do you know what it feels like to be disused, to be tossed aside as though you didn't matter? Yeah, we all know that feeling. No use bringing it up.

…

"The feeling of being hunted,

I wish I could change this place,

But I'm just a little kid,

In your eyes, I'm that disgrace,

Just another punk in the streets,

Trying only to exist,

We never accept defeat,

There's always another twist,

Don't you just wish you could go?

Well, what would you ever know?

It's not that hard when you try,

It's never been hard to die,

So don't yet put down that knife,

Go on, end your so-called life.

So don't yet put down that knife,

Go on, end your so-called life."