Cranberry Ashes

I survived... the dreaded day has passed. For those feeling contempt for my extended time here, I hear your screams. The cat has also informed me that I have a full year to remedy the situation and leave this world... then all will be forgiven and forgotten. Mercy is indeed a favored spice in life. I am still struggling with this ordeal and increasingly becoming more and more confused... distant and bitter perhaps in some ways. It was a day, like any other day... I awoke to the screams from within, sat at my computer and began running away as fast as possible. Whether it be by reading online or pretending to be someone else in an Xbox 360 game... setting time aside to dull my senses with pain killers and anxiety medication. Laughter, an old distant friend, hasn't called for a visit in quite some time... my emotions have been wiped away into a cloud of dissipating chalk. Sorrow, however, has accompanied me with absolute devotion. I remember being a young teenager, like many I imagine, aching to have someone love them... to hold onto those feelings recklessly, awaiting that blessed moment. I no longer await that dream... I find myself mourning it's absence. As this illness further rots my mind, I realize now that is something I will never know. It sickens me greatly and angers me even more when I think of all of the people in this world that abuse, manipulate and take for granted something as special as love. Part of me has also become quite bitter at the youth of today, thinking they know what love is... just because someone told them it was so, so they could have a quick fuck, majestically labeled "making love". Of course, of course... didn't your mothers teach you that sex is love? How daft can you be? I love you... now, let's go fuck. The world should be neutered... all of the "pimps", "studs", "playas", "sluts" and "whores" should be chemically sterilized. Fucking idiots... I pity the next generation of people to populate this world. Love is the thing that pounds within your chest and every fiber of your soul... not a swelling in your crotch. When I think about experiencing love with another person, it isn't a sexual encounter... it's being able to sit beside someone comfortably and holding them in my arms or having them hold me. To be able to have someone touch me without feeling sick inside and jerking away from them. To be able to make eye contact and smile at each other. To laugh without feeling self conscious... the little things. The simple, yet marvelous moments in which time ceases to exist. Perhaps I'm the fucking idiot...