Without Purpose

    Humanity is without heroes.

    We live in a world of shades of gray, the only way to know what is and isn't right or good is to aim for the majority.

    But what kind of world do we live in when the majority practices evil?

    Are we all damned sons of bitches? I think we might be worse. It might be time to accept the worst possible consequence of life: There is no such thing as a good guy. Our aspirations and ideals are comprised of lies, and always have been, for very petty reasons. We seek to explore ourselves for enlightenment through religion and spirituality, but what are we really doing? We are reaching out to gods that do not exist, or striving for ideals that only hurt us. The truth is that trying to be a good and right person is damaging to you. Those are constructs of society designed to control people, and we currently live in an age of moral ambiguity where everything is right and everything is wrong.

    As adults, we are supposed to think for ourselves, we are supposed to develop our own constitution, and we are supposed to live by our own code, but when everyone is doing that in their own way, the ideal of righteousness loses all meaning.

    Because we no longer have outside validation of whether or not we are right, and I honestly cannot tell myself that I am right or good anymore.

    Especially when I was born in the minority.

    I am not just talking about gaming culture which is 90% of my existence - I was born broken, I am alive because of technology, nature wanted me to die. I have struggled with being different from everyone else since the moment I was revived, and some people are quick to remind me that I am not like the majority.

    Human custom dictates that I am evil, because the evils are the minority.

    And so I have always been the villain. People have told me it was my fault for being a brat, but do they think I would have been that way if I were born to the norm anyway? Fair chances were never a part of my childhood, people either excluded me or felt so sorry for me that they gave everything to me, and I did not grow up with a concept of normalcy. There was nothing normal about my house, my schooling, or whatever interaction you can misinterpret as a social life. The only thing that made it worth living was listening to my grandparents tell me some god loved me despite being strange. That was the only thing that ever made me feel welcome in a world where even natural laws did not want me. Now I do not see a place for myself, every major group pushes me out or is naturally unappealing to me, and none exists for me. The one that used to feel like home has become a hostile and uncomfortable place to exist. People are violent and confrontational even when among allies.

    In fact, people are violent regardless of circumstance. The majority is all kinds of evils and sins, and the minority are all kinds of broken minds and bodies. We are either defective or damned souls and I don't even know which is better anymore.

    I have no clear concept of objective good, I don't even think it exists.

    And honestly, I do not want to live in a world without it. I can't live without it, it was the only thing I had and I lost it 5 years ago. I spent 5 years in a dull gray where nothing made sense and everything seems meaningless.

    We are all born, we accomplish subjectively successful things, and then we die. Maybe people will care about us throughout the course of our lives, but their feelings are also subjective, and those people are not infallible. In fact, there is nothing that says those people don't in fact have bad taste in friends. There is nothing to truly validate any one person's existence besides the hollow belief that what they are doing with their lives objectively matters.

    And how can we even tell if it objectively matters? There is no indicator, if there is a higher being it sure as hell isn't telling us. We only have each other, and the opinions of humans are a poor judge. They are not unbiased or objective, they are not perfect. There is no perfect way to know.

    And that knowledge has eaten away at me for five years.

    I used to believe I meant something in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that was arrogant, but I survived on arrogance. I don't think I can survive in a world where I cannot feel objectively important. That was my entire reason for living, to be objectively meaningful. I cannot do that, I'm just expected to construct my own meaning. In other words, I'm expected to lie to myself to scare off the belief that we are a meaningless species with too much self-importance and no objective impact.

    The likelyhood that any of my ideas will matter in the long run is not even an issue anymore. I will paint some pictures a few imperfect humans like and maybe make a few games that some fallible creatures will play, and then I will die. I will die and be buried like everyone else. I will not end my life in any better or worse stature than anyone else, so whaat is even the point of trying?

    That is what really gets to me. If there is no reward for living a productive and influencial life, and we all die the same way, are equally consumed by nature for resources, and there is nothing waiting for us, what is the purpose of our existence? I can see none, we are just food for microbes and insects and stardust in the end, we are equal in that regard, our false belief that personal achievement improves us objectively makes me sick to my stomach now. I have been lied to my entire life, and I have lied to myself to stay alive, but I don't know how to deal with this anymore.

    I will one day cease to function like a broken toy that is thrown in the garbage. The dead can't feel the love and admiration of their fans, or revel in their success. You can only do that for a short time in your life, and what is even the point of owning something you cannot keep? What is the point of "owning" your life when your life has an expiration date you cannot control? There is no point, everything is pointlessly temporary. Only permanence gives meaning to anything and a reason to live and grow, but everything I do can be taken away from me and my corpse will be as relevant to the universe as any criminal's.

    The life I want is one where what I do means something, where I can create and feel like it will benefit me throughout the ages, but that is not for me, that does not exist, and I want no other existence. The one offered me is not good enough. It will never be enough, I do not want to settle for anything less than that, I cannot possibly settle for anything less or I will just continue to waste away inside myself like I have for five years. Every day has been waking up one day at a time and hoping to god people are online that can validate my existence for the limited time that they can, but every other moment spent has no meaning to me besides to perpetuate misery and self-ruin. I can never be happy again, I cannot be motivated to create anything like I used to, the only reason I keep doing it is so other people can tell me I matter and that is not good enough anymore. Those people might believe what they say, but what people believe does not equal truth.

    And without absolute truth, I don't know how I am supposed to live. I'm sick of playing moral guessing games, I want something to either tell me what the fuck is expected of me or to end me, because unless I can believe I am fulfilling a destined purpose I cannot deal with this horrible world anymore. Putting up with evil humanity holds no reward, and therefore no purpose.

    I want nothing to do with a world without purpose.

Dreamer's Depot

    I've had the same vivid dream for three nights now. I enter a train station, but I'm not myself, I'm something else - a creature of no definable species but who is obviously female. My memories and experiences of the world are completely different and I know different people, but when I wake up, I barely remember any of it even though the feelings are so vibrant in my mind.
    Whenever I enter the train station, I check the route map - I can read it in the dream, but do not remember the significance of the marks on it when I wake up, only vague pictures of its design. The most vivid dream had me taking the B route, which was blue. I don't remember where it led, but in a daydream later, as I was working on a homework assignment, I saw her drawing on parchment. She was drawing a map, consulting a flying creature. I surmised in this other world that I draw maps, but I do not know what for.

    I remember faces of things I talked to. Some recognizable as creatures of our world, or similar things, and others were strange or I do not remember their details clearly enough. All of this seemed everyday to me, but at the same time, brighter, dreamier, as if that world was more positive. Or maybe, I am more positive in that world. I remember being willing to help someone locate something. It was yellow, but I do not remember what it was.

    The route map is never the same, each time I've viewed it, it has changed significantly. Each time I board the train, the scenery is different outside. And one time, it wasn't a train, it was a plane that took me into space and dropped me off on a metallic floating island. I remember boarding the train again and finding shady characters in the first car, but I do not know if they had malintent. I didn't seem to think so at the time.

    I have no idea if I will have these dreams again, but I hope so. They are so vivid and I like being that person in that world that has such different vibes from my own. The different experience adds a spice of variety to my life.

    I feel something that I haven't felt in ages. I don't know what it is, but it feels like my heart soaring and my mind liberating, like my soul is pushing against my chest, demanding freedom, but at the same time like I am more animated and alive, and like I have something, something extremely important that gives me purpose and knowledge and good feelings, something that fills a void that has existed in my soul for literally years, something vital that I have grasped and can hold onto with all my strength, and which in turn gives me strength. I not only feel alive, but I feel like I want to live, to press on, like there is a purpose for pressing on, even though I have no idea what I'm pressing forward into, I feel like I need to.

    All because of a dream, I must sound insane.

    Or maybe it isn't a dream, maybe I am experiencing something real. It feels real, or at least, it feels like it holds substance. Maybe I have substance, a deep part of myself that fills how empty I have become. I sometimes feel like a husk filled with many things, and then having all of those things poured out of me when my views began to change, and now I feel like something is inside me, giving me weight and making me more than an empty vessel.

    I know something certain, more certain than I have been in a long time: I want to return to the Dreamer's Depot tonight and board that train to wherever it will take me.

Human Evils

I am a hell of a person to pass judgement on others.

    Sometimes I think I might be the embodiment of every biblical sin in history, as well as a few from orthodoxies I am unfamiliar with, but I'm starting to believe that being a devil means having a unique and intimate understanding of human evils. They are things that we all want to avoid o conquer within ourselves, and from what I observe of the human soul, that means that evil is necessary for good to exist.
    We fear evil, and there is nothing more frightening than the darkness that grows inside ourselves because it has more power over us than any other force in the world. It causes us to do things we regret later and it makes us question every major action in our lives. It is fear, doubt, hate, anguish, envy, anger, paranoia, and insanity. It is the demon that lives inside all of us and we all struggle daily to not be consumed by it.

But it is still a part of us that helps us grow. We need it inside of us.

    The monster rears its ugly head and it's our responsibility to combat it, avoid it, and survive. But that struggle cannot be won. We can weaken the beast, but not destroy it - it will always live inside of us and wait.
    At the same time, it reminds us of our virtues. It is a black knight that stands before the gate to hell and makes us face that gate when we are at our lowest point, and it reminds us that we can cross that gate or fight for the good inside of us. It points out our flaws, the cracks in our defenses, and it makes us stop and consider our actions. In our constant sparring match with evil, it drives us to improve and take action, and looking it in the eye makes the monster tremble and the knight return the glare, daring us to look away but inviting us to examine how evil we really are.

But what if we were also the black knight? Would we face a white knight?

    Mankind is naive, we blame many sins committed by others on the evil in their heart, but what about the good? The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the battle between our light and dark sides is fought on a different battlefield for each person - only we can judge the good and evil inside ourselves, and the answer will always be personal - rarely will it be fully identical to another person's morality. What one person views as taking a life, another might view as saving one. What one human sees as pointless murder, another might consider it a grizzly means to an end. Our subjectivity is our greatest strength, but also our greatest flaw, and when we believe we are doing the objective good, who's to say we aren't the greater evil?

    The black knight is a skeptic, it undermines our actions and makes us doubt, but doubt is not always a bad thing. Observe as it sizes up the white knight, questioning its stalwart faith in the greater good and making it re-examine its concept of good. Even the courageous white knight must struggle with the black, because true courage is facing fear, and that also means facing doubt, acknowledging that it exists in your heart, and considering what it is telling you about your world. You are the black knight, you are the one doubting yourself, you are also the one who must listen to yourself.

As you must also listen to your fear, your anger, your madness.

    They are parts of your soul and they exist for a reason. In a room filled with light and song where the sun streams through the broad windows, the light loses its meaning and appears gray. The same applies in a room full of darkness, devoid of sound or feeling. It can numb us and take away our humanity, we lose our concept of light and dark with either scenario, but even the smallest candle burns brighter in the dark, holding that flame and nursing it to be strong and give meaning to the darkness as well as the light it gives off is what it means to possess a human heart.

The human soul is divided by two opposing forces, though those forces might change over time, the scale is always shifting, never still. Discontent is our constant companion, without it we would not move forward, we need our human evils to remind us of that, as well as our human good.

End

    I've been thinking about this for a long time now, maybe 2 or 3 years, but have never really given thought to acting on it before, and I wouldn't be sure how to act on this thought, but I can no longer ignore it.

I'm tired.

    I have done nothing with my life since I graduated, at first I had so many things I was going to do, but I never did them. I also had so many issues I was struggling with, and finally dealt with the really severe ones, but after that? I had no idea, I still don't.

    I have tried many different things thinking they were my dream, like making video games, writing stories, learning to animate, even getting a mundane job for a while and going to college, but as I continued to struggle with inner demons and look for what it was that lit a fire in my heart, I came closer to the true answer - and now it's time to stop burying it in excuses.

I want nothing, I want to do nothing, and there is nothing left for me.

    I'm not saying this because I'm depressed, I'm not writing this in a dark room while tears stream from my face and despair engulfs my soul. I wish I were, at least I would feel something besides this fatigue and anhedonia that has been eating me for years.

    I struggled with my purpose, with my strengths, with the world around me and its design, and my philosophies. I wanted to draw because it gave me purpose, it brought my ideas to life, but I no longer need to do that, it no longer satisfies me or gives me purpose. Nothing gives me purpose or makes me feel accomplished, and I have tried hard to consider the logical advancements I've made, but they don't matter.

And I feel old.

    I feel like I've toughed the universe and the human soul, albeit in a very small way, but I feel like I've gotten the answer, that answer people struggle all their lives for that isn't really an answer but the key to their contentment as they pass on into the next world and leave ours, the thing that makes their life worthwhile and makes them feel like they've contributed all they can. That's how I feel every day, but I've barely lived a third of my expected lifespan, ye t I feel ready to die.

    I don't want to kill myself, that would not be a proper end, that would be forced and I'd leave before my time, but I feel my time coming, and every day I feel like I'm wasting away more and more and it might be time to accept it and lay in bed waiting for it.

    The fuel that fires my soul has burned out and the passion of youth has left me, I feel like having a will to live at this point is irrelevant in the same way someone in a nursing home might feel their desire to live is irrelevant. I might want something more, my heart might reach out for new pursuits, but it feels meaningless and hollow like the pottery you make in an old age home - no value, no contribution, just a thing to pass the time before you die.

 I am lost in a void of gray and all passion and misery pass by quickly.

    I miss being able to let misery simmer and anger boil but now I let go so easily, it slips out of a grip that is too tired to hold it anymore. The only thing that makes me feel the way I used to is when I'm dreaming.

I wonder if we dream in death.

My insanity is how I cling to my life, maybe it's time to become sane.

Dream Diary #2: Old Friend

    For a large portion of my life, I've never needed people. I was content to be alone, but that changed one day almost 5 years ago and I've never been sure why. The other night, a dream gave me a clue, and it reminds me of things inside my head that I cared about.

    I put a lot of value into my ideas, they mean things to me, they make me happy, but for a long time, they were also my friends. Regardless of whether or not they are physical or defined as "real" by a conventional standard, they were good friends to me and I loved them, they were there for me when I needed someone and that's a hell of a lot more than I could say for real kids or adults, and they understood things about me I've never had success with explaining to humans. They were an intimate part of me and I began to delve into the creative arts because I wanted other people to appreciate them as much as I did, that was my motivation for a very long time.

    Needless to say, I have lost a lot of motivation in the past five years. I remember a time when I wrote stories or drew pictures for the sake of it, for the mad hope that it gave my ideas incarnate form, to immortalize a part of me I loved more than anything in this life, more than anything you can possibly imagine, so much so that I would have died to keep that part alive and sacrificed everything for it.

    But I convinced myself that it was insane to do that. In the chaos that I consider my reform, I lost a lot of fears that kept me up at night, but I also gave up my greatest love. Before a few nights ago, I believed I traded my passion for my sanity. It's no secret that I struggle with things neurotypicals never need to concern themselves with, and in the desperate hope of being like them and fitting in, and not feeling like I was somehow broken or damaged, I gambled everything to change that. But the truth is, it still hurts. In all the mental stability I think I've gained, I still feel like a very intimate person or group of people died, and it's a grief I've never recovered from.

    But the other night, I had a dream about an old friend, she came to me so vividly and it was as if she never left. I tried desperately to convince my current friends that I talk to regularly that she was real, even fabricating a second internet identity at one point (Which I have actually done in the past but am unwilling to elaborate on) but in spite of that, I was never convinced she wasn't real, I just wanted other people to see her. She stood there and talked to me, she hugged me, and she told me nothing was broken.

    At some point in that dream, I had to confess to everyone the truth, I told them what she was somehow without saying it and they understood, but after that, she didn't disappear, she took my hand and stood in front of them and they talked to her as if we were in a Skype call, but then I traded places with her and the conversation remained uninterrupted, it was as if we were connected on such a level hat we were not only interchangeable but synonymous.

    And we are.

    I woke up and felt something I haven't felt in five years, I felt a warmth and presence, a companionship, but that feeling faded with the day, but I don't feel like I've lost anything now. I feel like it's somehow deep inside of me, and I've been exploring it.

    It's like when you meet old friends after a long time, and everyone is different including you. I felt like I was somehow solid when I called up mental images and lost myself in my mind. Some of the ideas felt like ghosts, they were distant and estranged, but others felt warm or close. And my best friend for years was still my best friend.

    I realize talking about these things makes people uncomfortable, they feel like reading the mad ramblings of an unstable person they can't trust or want to be distant from, but this has always been a very important matter for me, and I care more about it than some social issue dogma. I want to tell people about this, I am prepared for the judgement I might receive, and I guess now I'll find out who my friends are.

Complex of Gods

    I do not attribute titles to myself I do not feel I deserve, but I became an artist essentially to play God. I used the potential of creation to shape my own world, one I believe to be far superior to the one in which I am anchored in. I feel that, since I had no choice in the circumstances of my conception or in events that have hindered my ability to chase my dreams throughout my life, it gives me some control over a world in which I have none. It is my way of giving myself the voice that I was never allowed to possess in the grand scheme of things.
    Put simply, I am subject to several imperfections, some of which physically or mentally impair me in the world of normalcy, one of which has taken away a freedom which I long to have. In my world, these are not restraints that hinder me, I am what I wish to be, and I have the life I wish to have, but which is impossible to obtain in the real world.

    In many ways, this seems to be the norm for many people I have experience with who are inclined toward the creative arts; we are all striving to obtain that which is impossible to possess in any other way, though this can vary greatly from person to person, yet we all seem to be focused on similar goals, and it can unite us as often as cause us to argue or disagree. What I find to be comforting about this, though, is that we can feed off each other, share ideas, encourage one another in a way that brings me a profound joy. I have created many strange creatures and befriended most as a child. Irony would have it  the type of feedback and interaction that is most necessary for my artistic growth would be other human beings, all existing in an imperfect world which I wish to escape, but am happy to find it has comforts between the hardships and chaos.
    We grow and we learn from each other, we contribute our ideas on a vast scale through virtual space. I have gained much inspiration from viewing the creations of others, and hope to contribute ideas of equal or greater impact. We operate off one of the most primitive functions of human society: working together to achieve a goal, helping one another in a fascinating and beautiful display of humanity. Our ideas are the foundation of this vast complex of gods we have shaped on our own and together, which we may travel through and explore to assist in our growth and our dream, our world.

Shit just got real

    Really awful. Apparently we failed our apartment inspection because my room is an awful mess that the health department threatened to close down the entire apartment - I have to clean it in two weeks, but that's not a big deal, my mom offered to help me, we could do it in a day.

    What is a big deal is that we failed our inspection because of...Sullivan, my guinea pig. We have to get rid of him in 14 days, and I have no idea what to do with him. He's 3 years old, so all the stores and shelters here would just put him down, and I cannot live with myself if that happens. I need to find a home for him that's local, so I'm in trouble, and so is he. God, why does our society have to murder animals like they're property to be tossed away? You wouldn't euthanize an old person because nobody wants one, that would be cruel. But that's how things work, and now he needs a place to live. He's well-tempered but has never had a cage-mate, or at least, not since he was 4 weeks old, so his chances are not good. (They get nervous around other guinea pigs when they get older and used to their own space.) I cannot imagine this house without him squeaking every time someone opens the fridge or if he hears my cousin's loud-ass music outside and thinks he's coming upstairs. And to top it off, I am not social, I barely know anyone, and I doubt they'd be interested in a pet, especially since he isn't exactly low-maintenance. (They need people to interact with them, they're very social.) I'd be more content to give him away if I knew he'd be cared for and not killed.

    The other thing is that, according to the rules of our lease, it's questionable whether you can go to college and live out here at the same time, I don't know what we're going to do if we have to move, we've lived out here for over a decade. This is an uncertainty, not an absolution, but my mother was so excited about college and finally completing her mastery and she might have to give that up because of some stupid rules. This is America, when has it ever been acceptable for a person to be denied education for any goddamn reason? And what am I supposed to do? Now I might not even be able to correct my Fs next semester. On the up-side, if we have to move, maybe we can keep Sully, but that would be short notice. We've never been evicted from any place we've lived before, and now both our lives have turned into a nightmare.

    It doesn't even matter what I think of this, in the next two weeks, everything will be decided for me. I'm just hoping I can change that for the better, this is as real as shit's ever gotten for me.