Too many red doors, not enough black paint...

War is Coming

Prepare yourself for the worst it's coming soon

Too many red doors, not enough black paint...
I see those girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes...yeah, I turn my head but the darkness never, ever goes. Everywhere I go I am horrified by everything I see, I am disgusted by what society wants me to want, and sickened to find that I have a secret longing for it deep inside me.

There is something wrong with my brain, I've known it for a long time but as I age it is becoming more and more apparent. It is a toxic concoction of neurochemicals in all the wrong ratios, stirring up thought patterns that don't resemble anything remotely human. I don't even know if prozac can help me anymore, this isn't even a simple depression, but a poisonous obsession with all things disasterous and an almost complete absence of the usual system of rewards that motivates a normal human being to move onwards in society and civilized life.

What I feel, what I want, what I am, it has all warped into something strange and alien. There is something inside me, is it coming out or am I falling in? I can't possibly imagine how I can continue living in my current state of mind, my current situation. Holding my pistol in one hand and a bottle of Jaggermeister in the other, I close my eyes and dive into the black...

posted by thyfleshconsumed at 11:16 PM
While I'm desperately sympathetic to this, I'm compelled to respond with these quotes:

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It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it.
-Steven Wright

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When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.
—Samuel Langhorne Clemens

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I sincerely hope you work it out.