Absent-minded

There are times, when I really just ned to write what is lingering on my soul. As is now. The feeling of dread, coming from future possibilities and paths open to me. Ways, I can not go and wish to go, ways I need to go and will want to go. But how ? Disturbances. Always the same. My family gets on my nerves. They do this often. As of late, I can´t evenstand most of them. Some of my freinds too. Strange, how we can be often so unwilling, downright evil bastards in the moments no one is watchin us. Alas, downright vil? No, sure...perhaps. Evil is a thing of perspective.  For this, I shall always follow the watchers view. I can not see thr screen, nor  can I see the keyboard, except in a black blur. Therefore, this is a test in writing for myself, a test, nay a monument to my own ability to write without seeing anything, on a standard keyboard. Let the thoughts flow freely from my fingers into the board, let them reoam among the wide and the side of the interspacce. These are days of freedom. Moments of tiny rebellion. Once, I already wrote like this. A long time ago. It got me fired from a job I held down back then. Strange thin. The mind is a thing of flittering emo emotion. Is it not? I wish to dance, but my feet won´t take me as I wish. I am not so much imprisoned as I am my own warden.  There are thought, that should not and never shall be turned upside. At the frefront of the mind lies the ugly truth. And still, the sound of the hammering keyboard, the buttons pressed each in its own volition one could think and yet a mind to bind them all. And already I have started to integrate filomand movie quotes into this text, that sshould contain nothing but my own thought my very own freeflowing thoughts. Lets face it. I am no Ulisses. No Chaplin, no Poe. Not enough of a drinker for that. heh. That was quite evil, but also outside of the frame of reference for almost everyone not induced into thisw ay of thinking as I am. Can you see, how spintered, how fragments of my minds turn here? See, each glittering bit of them? I see myself and yet I thnik of nothing but a future of impossibilites. I am but a dreamer, but unlike Cobb I cannot, or I should not awake from this one. It is no dream. It will never be. It is  a dream, to think of this as a de a dream. A "friend" of mine once told me , I should go see a doctor about  mental health. But, I said, my health is sound. He wondered about that. How long does it take, till others qualify the diverse as psychologically unsound? Should they be rather quarantined because of their small-mindedness?  Is it of use to ANYONE if they are thus locked away?= Harry spoke of Azkaban as the place of evil personified. The Home of Death, the door to the blinding reality for a 10year old. I wonder, would Freud have a Field day with me? Or would they turn me to Elieter and say. See this one?= He thinks himself reational. Rational.  In Insane. Strange to write it like that. Half the fdac half the fa half the face is illuminated from the light of my lamps, the other half is illuminated from the light of the mointor. the screen I eamnt, forgive me for pushing some german in there. Strange, how the splinters all ocome and go. It mus ve even more bizzare, to see this and read I?`I would not know, I cannot know and I shall not know. Commandments, make the world go round ladididia. Have just finished reading Emma. BWas a Beautiful story, and I liked the pnot moving version much more than the moving one. Evoked a feelong of, nay, a sense of lin a sense of longing insside myself. I found it strange before, and will find it strange afterwards. I long for passion. The warmth of another. A body at my side. Not even for worldy passion. I long for someone to ...a companion. Nietzsche was right, when he spke of them, as tzhe thing that is really hard to find. Someone to understand you.  Not just a friend. Someone, who will be with you. Not even a confidante is applicable to this. It must go deeper. I long for stable realtionships. For ..for...for...a counterpart? I long for many things. I once stile the lines of max, to say what I want. And it is pathetic. But also one of the best ways to describe, what we really WANT. Ahh, for the WANT ofa  nail. And thus, we come to the point, it all does circulate around. I do not long for material wealth, for it is fleeting. I long for someone at my side.  The impossible to make possible. I long for the mast evil, the greatest and the heartrenderinging most stupid ones of alle human emotions. I long for love. Not live for your family. Love foryour friends. Love for your people. I long for love, for my other one. He or she who complements mne. That mus be a shock. I´m not as adversed to it, as mny might think. In fact, I just donßt know. Solitude is a mark. In my life, I bear these three great problems. No. Not problems. Fears. To be alone in a crowd.  To be without sight. To die. If Rationality has thought me one thing, death is not for me, not because it might be natuaral, but because it should be our task, to overcome nature, ours as well as others. It is in our natiure. There is no circle. No symbol of infinity to end this. There is only hate and the destruction so easily brought about by the red button. And we already know, that wont happen. Not now, nor in the future. How did  Quayle put it? Does it even matter anymore. I think not. I feel tears welling up in my eayes. As always, when I start to break up my own heart in order to write. Not always. Liear. Liar, that I am, I only sometimes opur myself out like this. I can remember only one....two....perhaps witth this one even three times, where I knew my will aching inside myself, to get out. A relief, as writing should be? There is no balance in anything we do. Neither are we judged. Those who judge, do so by right given to them from those wo accept.  Kant spoke of perfect beings. Humanity cannot actu as such. We are and never should be perfect. After all, we´d debase ourselves and the following generations, to make them perfect. And perfect in whose image then? Mine? A christians? A buddhists? No. Perfection is nowhere found in  in nature, that evil fiend we have to fight. As such, we should now by know, that perfection, even if achieved, can not last. 

We are the doomed ones.

 

Damn thats a lot of text. 

Headache now, I will therefore go.

Update: 17:55h
I should rescind this update. Such a text is dangerous, not matter for whom, and in my state of mind it might be especially so, as ther are always fools going out of their way to prove themselves against my mettle. But alas, I have nothing to hide. To delete this now, or make it unreadable for everyone, would be to lie to myself. This is, who I am. You do well, to remember this.