You move as fast as you can,
you must stop the bleeding,
without, all is lost..
It’s like that you know,
life and death.
It requires
effort,
nerve,
courage,
blindness,
stupidity,
unrealisti­c expectations,
sobriety,
self awareness,
selflessness,
sacrifice,
love,
hate,
fear,
and strength.

... You see that’s where you are.
What do you mean?
You can only go so far in life, and then your stuck... done.
Who can only go so far... me?
Everyone.
Everyone?
Listen he said cracking his knuckles; the past... the future it’s not real...
Not real?
Not real he said softly. It’s just an idea... as a collective species can only go so far, and then were done...  it’s done... your done.
Done?
His lidded eyes sighed heavily and he repeated softly The big empty.... done
Death?
No... not exactly... I mean it could be death, but you can be dead without dying.
Right. I said shaking my head what ya drinking? I picked up his glass sniffed it, then put it down in front of him,
This spiked with acid?
Maybe he said, but that’s not the point.
You got that right buddy, there is no point. I laughed darkly.
Ok if you say so.
I say so.
He nodded and looked away as he shook his whiskey resting upon a avalanche of ice.
Silence reigned..
I knew he was right.
That was why I was so restless ...
so unhappy, because deep down, where it counted, I thought I should have been more...
done more with my life...
that’s why I was always so jealous of others who had success...
That’s why the limited success’s I had experienced always felt hollow...
why no matter how much praise and admiration I experienced...
it wasn't enough...
it’s why I was such a narcissistic *******... why I never thought of others, much less their feelings...
This knowledge of my limitations had always and would continue to always to drive me mad.
I closed my eyes and sighed I had nothing more to say.
I was a dead man, long sense... dead man... no future... dead man... a unrepentant dead man.
A dead man all along.
A dead man,
I was just waiting for my body  to catch up.

.

Surprise, surprise, surprise,
She is a three kid ******.
Her petite, little rich friend, with nice ****. is a paid FBI informant.
Setting up her friends like shots of J.D. with cop induced ***** logic.
They flaunt their facebook status; as ultra cool, cutting edge, The next best thing.
Hollow brained  hipsters, with dead eyes, and great *****.
They all try to be the same,
like some sort of mandatory social ritual,
played like bankrupt Russian Roulette.
They succeed magnificently in conformity
Only usurped by one thing:
Stupidity.

I realize how totally desperate I have become.

My ideas are based on lies and faulty logic.
I can’t seem to help myself.

I am obsessed with
keeping my heroic traits at the forefront of mind.

Obsession allows me to be judgmental, racist, spiteful, uncaring, and condemning, of everyone, and everything I encounter.

Truth be told,
I do all I can to conceal
what I have always known:

I am the Antichrist.

When I look back at my life I am ******.
My hands clench in rage every few minutes
just thinking about it.
Furious...,
bending beneath the overwhelming, suffocating feeling.
like somehow I have been cheated!

Even worse...
If I had a chance to start over...
to undo the mistake of my past...
I am not smarter enough,
confident enough,
or lucky enough,
to do one single thing differently.

Out of breath, I finished my explanation...
Her lips pursed in heavy disapproval,
as she clumsily clamored:
No way!
Yes. I said quietly.
But what about?
How could you?
Not really right?
My unwavering blank stare held the answer she didn’t want.
I saw the baffled stupid hate,
rising from the dead
in her cold fish eyes.

Ah, come on man...
Come on...
she mumbled come on over and over again,
like the invocation of a dark spell,
softer each time a silent prayer
It can’t be...
It can’t be...
It can't be...
but it was.

She said that is it.
I am over.
I said:
Nothing is over.
Nothing is ever, really over.
No... No...
I am over...
been over for a long time...
like when your dead and you don't know it.
No!
You are not listening...
the past is not real...
not real at all...
Then why does it seems so **** important?
It's not... not really.
If you say so...
if you say so.