I need a new brain, maybe.

So, I thought about talking about the monster that was Karas, a monster for its more repellent aspects and for those factors that made it truly enjoyable, but I'm just not in any mood for that. In fact, I'm really not in a mood for much at all. I don't want to read, write, or talk right now. I don't even want to listen to music, though I am. What I want to do is float right on into space and go into some sort of quasi-sleep in some sort of nothing-world. I mean, I don't want to leave me friends and family behind, but fuck, I don't care about this world right now. It's boorish, stupid and ugly. Everyone seems to be the same, stuck up and caught in their banal attempt to do whatever it is the fuck people do these days. Fuck, play videogames, write, act, eat, watch tv, discuss, what in the hell is the point of it all? I mean, really, I can't help but thinking that life is useless and banal, that there's nothing that designates rights and liberties, that the cold, indifferent universe is exactly that. If so, why carry on in a nihilistic world like that? Because we lie to ourselves, because we honestly believe otherwise, because we're cowards, because... because why?

What in the world makes me carry on? The survival drive inherent to all biological lifeforms, I suppose? But why does that exist, and why still in me? What's the end goal in survival, and why is it so imperative? If it's just a biological reflex, an imperative with an origin in loops only, why? What are we surviving for? Why do I in particular get up every day? I can't think of a reason, even to see friends or family, especially not because of them. Realizing earlier this year that someday they just won't be there caused me to just.... well, it was before that, but this caused the final snap. I just don't even know a bit of anything anymore. And it frightens me. It confuses me. I want to tear down everything and everyone, build a monument to nihilism and nonexistent, and I think that's cropping up far too much in me these days. I sneer at everyone and everything, my characters in my stories have become increasingly more absurd and without direction on a philosophical scale; if they do have a direction, it's so exaggerated as to appear immediately nonsensical. I don't think my writing is suffering, but I think it's growing just a tad repetitive to see these characters show up so often. And why should I care if it does? It's probably meaningless tripe, whatever I'm writing. And then thoughts of suicide crop up and.... well, I know I won't do it because I couldn't stand to hurt my family, seeing as how we all reacted to a certain even recently; I care too much for them and my friends and am too afraid of the void, as it were, to really go through with it.

I supposed college would be something else, and it wasn't, but that's not the sealing nail in my coffin, just a fact that really hit me. Here I was, prepared to meet entirely new types of people, and who do I find but the same common sorts as throughout high school? Everyone just drinks and gets high in their spare time; a few simply want to communicate, to simply hang out, and that's what I want, really, in terms of relationships possible in the mundane world. Ideally I'd like to go exploring, but that's all daydreams and fiction, which I'll have to settle for through vicarious means. Everyone's so preoccupied with sex and escape and intellectualism and altruism that I don't think anyone's thought about, well, literally NOTHING. I... I'm just ranting now and I don't know how to stop it. I'm gonna go read and escape myself, because quite frankly, I think I hate everything and everyone right now for whatever bullshit reason I have.