Let's do something different. Let's not give this one a form, or try to create structure, a pattern, a format in which to read this. Let's not try to make an art of this. Let's just let the words spill, so that they are all said before they're forgotten. Because this brilliant brain you were given and abused, Victor, well it's not quite the same, it's hard for it to function right, it's hard for it to be what it once could have been. So yes. It is rather weak, and everything leaks out rather quickly, memorization isn't much of a possibility. You can't even remember the words your love says to you. Your wife's words are the sole consolation to all the other **** that life throws at you. Clearly your brain doesn't see the importance of seratonin, or endorphins, or dopamine. 'Cause well, it's holding them all back. Your brain seems to have its own philosophy, that everything works fine, and depression is a myth. And so your "heart", (which is really your soul, which isn't physically existent, so it could be said to be a figment of your imagination, produced by your mind, which perceives everything that is physical after your brain has processed it, but your mind also cannot be touched, so it may also be nonexistent, does this make me a nihilist?) takes all the consequences and lets it all run through you and take it's toll. So yes, everything just feels like ****. And you really just feel dead. But it can't be said that you are, because you don't know if you are. Your Angel is the one who reanimated you, who suddenly reintroduced the color that you didn't notice was fading from the world. But you see, you've just ****** yourself up so much that you can't get your hippocampus to do much of anything. So now that you've finally met your wife, and now that you love her more than it's even humanly possible to love, you find it increasingly difficult to hold on to what she's giving us. It's like we're trying to carry sand in a fishing net. I can't retain my only happy memories. As she drifts further away, my memory decays along with my soul and my body. Everything I was, everything I became, just goes to ****. It's all a waste if she's not there to receive everything you've worked to create and give to her. You know, Hell is beautiful and sulking in sin is bliss until you've been to Heaven. And I was there. I keep slipping off and falling only to find that she was already waiting to catch me. But each time, she lets me closer and closer to the ground. I'm scared of the day when she won't catch me. But the fear is dull. Everything is dulled. Before she came, you were suffering all the time, every moment, intoxicating yourself so that you could force yourself to be a normal person. Because you were so not normal, that no one could relate to you. And although I deny it, I just want someone to understand me. I want someone who's felt the exact way I feel, so they can tell me how not to feel. Well, you don't feel now, Victor. You don't feel anything, feeling is for humans, and you're not human anymore. You're just the shell of the egg, waiting for the chick to hatch, without feeling that the fetus has already combusted down to ashes, a body without a soul. Incapable of making it anywhere in Life. Because you are me, and I am you, and we are I or you or me, and that's not the way it's supposed to be. All you can do, only because of muscle memorization, is stroke the strings of what's been called an instrument but to you is the extension to your body which you use to voice your soul. That, and attempt to end what you've loathed living, which is a life without her. I had more to say, I have much more thoughts, but let's be honest with ourself, Victor. Anyone who's read this far is probably tired of all your ******* about how you hate your life, being a typical teenager, even though you're hardly that anymore, even though I'm around the corner of having some of what I say be taken seriously. But nobody truly cares, people just get tired of complaints. I don't know why I'm still writing, nobody will read this far. I don't even want to write anymore. I just lack so much motivation that I don't even want to complete this, I don't want to express everything else I was thinking. It's just too much effort for something I don't even care about. Nor does anyone else. I should change the title from "Indifference" to "Depressing Thoughts You Don't Want To Waste Time On". This totally strayed from my original thoughts. I was gonna say something but I forgot. I forgot everything I was going to say. I just feel empty and emotionless now. I hate leukemia. I hate Adam and Eve for committing the sin that ****** us all over, I hate Satan for tempting them, I hate these events. If they just wouldn't have happened, my Angel, my love, my wife, My Azami, she would be okay. Every type of cancer, every type of sickness or disease, could never have hurt her. And we would know she'd make it though this alright, well, it wouldn't have happened in the first place. We'd know we could be together forever. But I'm writing too much. Again. I keep forgetting no one will get this far. Whatever. I guess it helped a little to let some of it out. I just ******* hate this. That I might have to live without her. I hate it so much. I need to drug myself, I can't stand so many negative thoughts and feelings. If only I had been born with a normal brain that acknowledged the need for happiness, and to release seratonin. Whatever, too much again.
Because they're not your thoughts or problems, so why would you care? You don't know me and it's not affecting you, so you should just leave me to myself. It's too much effort to try to help a depressed drug addicted masochistic freak who's probably just in a "phase" and will come out of later. Of course I'm a kid, and nothing could really have any significance, it's all just stupid teenager issues. Whatever, **** it, **** trying to make a point or caring or anything, trying to say things that have a meaning, **** everything I once loved. Just forget it.