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I am not a narrator. I am a gateway; a catalyst if you will, for a message. I am not sure if what I have to say is of any importance to society, but I do know that I must say it. I am no Poe, or Hemmingway, but I have something to say. I open my cracked sliding glass door and step into the brisk December night. Where did that crack come from? In which belligerent rage did I inflict that damage upon my property? It doesn’t matter. I light my cigarette and take a long slow drag. I exhale with the utmost satisfaction. As I stare deeply into the glow of the cherry and watch the smoke swirl up into the sky, my mind begins to wander, as it always does when I am alone. I sit back, smoke a little more, close my eyes, and look up to the sky, no...Into space. The smoke, the most fulfilling thing in my life, escapes my lungs and leaves me desperate, clutching for another pull. Stars. Gods, Goddesses, and mythical beasts all before my very eyes, composed of balls of gas, light years away. There is something so beautiful and yet so depressing in the vastness of space. Vast emptiness and an overwhelming feeling of insignificance are eerily relatable to my life, my miniscule existence. These thoughts and feelings plague my mind. The feeling of being unrelatable, alone in a crowded room. I have no one to speak to and I have no outlet. Writing? This is not an outlet, I am simply delving deeper into my own mind and finding out more things about myself that disturb me. Before I go any further allow me to state that this is not simply teenage angst. Apathy, depression, anxiety are all emotions exaggerated in the minds of self proclaimed “tortured teens.” No, this is different. I have been programmed to feel this way. The course of my existence has led me to only one realization, that I am the barer of something larger than myself. A truth, an undeniable truth, is the seed that I have been given to plant in the minds of those who require it. To understand what I mean by this, my past would have to be examined. However, I have no desire to share with you my most intimate of secrets or the horrors I have been subjected to throughout my short 18 years of life. I do not need your judgment for the mistakes I’ve made nor do I care for your sympathy towards the atrocities committed against me. The ash falls to the dirt and my fingertips slightly sting, I don’t remember letting that burn out. I immediately pull out another cigarette and light it, second nature. As I gaze up at the northern circumpolar constellations, the ones that are apparent in the northern hemisphere’s sky every night, I think about the other people looking at exactly what I am looking at. I realize that although what we see is the same, our views are so drastically different. I belong to such a small portion of the population it is difficult to find anyone with my mentality. 85% of people are sheep, gullible people with minds like clay ready to be molded and influenced. 10% of people have access to great knowledge, and choose to spread slanderous lies for their own profit, and then there are the 5%. The 5% are those who have come to understand, through much misfortune, that the world is not what it seems. My contempt from humanity stems from my past, but from this theory most of all. People do not understand that we are products of our environment. So many people are under the impression that they are “different” but are they really? Allow me to help you, no of course they aren’t. You’re so called morals and values are things that do not exist. Why do you believe it is wrong to do certain things? You believe it is wrong because you have been told from the very beginning of your existence that that is the way it is. We think it’s normal to consume and absurd amount of food in one sitting because we were raised in America. Other cultures look at our portions with disgust. Are they right or are we? I have come to find that nothing in this world is set in stone and nothing is definite. I suppose I am just a modern day Raskolnikov. I am simply a young man consumed by thoughts of transgression and both moral and existential nihilism. I, like Raskolnikov, would like to think that I have successfully transgressed. Social morals, norms, and sanctions bare no weight or significance to my mind. I do what I feel is appropriate or necessary in any given situation. If that means that I am breaking “laws” then so be it. This world, this seemingly fruitful and bountiful world serves no purpose. Why would anyone spend the small amount of time they have to be “alive” obeying rules made by some ignorant fools hundreds of years ago? Not I. I grew weary of this place long ago and attempted to leave it on my own terms. Twice I should have made my escape, twice I have reached the boundary of life and death, and twice I have been returned to this meaningless charade we call a life. I am not a man of god. I do believe in fate however. I believe that everything everyone else does has an effect on the outcome of everyone else’s life. So if by fate, I am meant to be here than I will share what I have to say. The 10% will attempt to censor me, the 85% will mock me or label me insane, and the 5% will listen but they already know. Not all people have the ability to transgress the limits put on us by history. However, everyone should push the boundaries. Open your eyes and realize that nothing has to be the way it is, and nothing truly is what it seems to be. Set your own moral code, live by your own values. As for me I have given up. The lies that are spread and the injustices that are committed by governments around the world are too much for me. I smoke and I drink to cope. Many people will look at that and deem it the most horrible a person can do. The 85% would say this because they are brainwashed. The 10% would spread propaganda about it because they know damn well that what they are doing is worse. World leaders clad in black hooded robes bearing crooked daggers performing pagan rituals in the bohemian grove. Corporate CEO’s firing thousands of people for bigger pay checks. All of these things make me sick, people are a virus. Slowly destroying an area and spreading to another until we make it completely barren, we are a virus. So I have decided to live my life the way I enjoy it. I know that this cigarette burning in my hand and this cup on the ledge next to me are only doing long term damage. We will all die eventually so who is to say there is something wrong with being satisfied in the moment. I reach into my pocket and find that I have run out. I let out a deep sigh and return inside. This is where the anxiety sets in. I pace back and forth in my living room, cup in hand. I sit down and turn the television on and immediately turn it off. I can’t stand the filth that spews from that damn box. I begin digging in the ash tray looking for anything. Is this any way to live? No it isn’t. Constantly plagued by thoughts that are out of my control. How I wish I was just another member of the 85%.





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