Nihilism

I need to stop all feelings; hate the reckless run of emotions, hate the harshness of reality, hate myself, no meaning, no direction, no life.

The Frozen Wasteland

This is the time when I constantly remind myself not to be slaved under the chainings of love, that my identify matters as much as anything else. Because often not, I have been copying so many things that I am but a mere doppelganger to everything, especially the other. I need to establish my voice, subsumed for so long under everything 'normal', because I am anything but.

I need my cloak around me, yet my cloak must be my feature, my voice. I am not the other. I will not be subjected to the tyrannies of 'normalcy', to rules, to expectations, and of utmost, I am who I am, despite not knowing who I am actually. I need to be comfortable in my own skin.

My quaser remains, my every move forward is to make it happen. Damnation to those who stands in my way. The Mage shall control his destiny, not the other way. For too long have I been subjected to the damning rituals of my own contrivance, and it shall no longer be so. I am the Mage. Everything must be controlled. I shall not be held sway to the irrationalities of emotions. The Frozen Wasteland must reign in its place.

Swept Away

As the emotions surge and alternate between anger and sorrow, despair and rage, the Xavier Harker kicks in and sweeps away all of these irrationalities, only to be replaced by the mute desolation, the icy wasteland, that frozen landscape devoid of life, of humanity, of feelings, of voices. The ice shall surge in all its stark bluest glory, for the world holds no hope for me. The pimpled reflection never fails to remind me.

Love is a sham, solitude reigns.

September Drawls

As September draws to a close, so does the seemingly impoverished self retreats into that cosy corner of reflection while dreaming of that bacchanalia teeming with fish and dancing with wild abandon. Company is both desired and detested.

I am bereft of rationality as Xavier reins me in occasionally with tight mental slaps. I have a foremost duty to my body. Xavier is selfish. And so should I.

There is no difference between friendship and love.

Alejandro

It complicates my trajectory of life, this affair, as I shuttle between joy and despair. It's not who I am, it's not who I will be, but that quagmire of confusion that muddles my mind in that obtuse manner of thinking and speaking. The voice in my mind grows louder, as I lock myself in that corner. I am no longer coherent. I am Alejandro, calling for my name which is an illusionary label, like that which we call love.

The Carnival is Dead

The carnival holds no allure, its loud music and sweaty bodies a pale reflection of what it used to be, a hedonistic site reeking of pleasure which now, is lost to the recesses of the mind. Fun is illusionary. The company is sheer disappointment, unnecessary pressure on my Mustang self. I detest the chains of guilt and duty and that will be the last place that I imagined to be exacted on me. And that will be the last time I ever visit the Carnival.

Nadir

No amount of happiness could compensate for the sorrow I feel in this life, as I push myself deeper and deeper into the abyss. Will I bounce from my nadir, I wonder, whether one day, I would cease to bounce at all, and remain at the pits of my misery.

I wonder why would people want to go on living at all, when life is such a misery. People keep on asking why I want to die. I ask them why they would want to keep on living.

I have been living on borrowed time, since I was 15.