I like big writing.

BIG WRITING.

What are “the basics”?
Last time I checked, life was never basic.
Your body is made of billions upon billions of atoms of different elements, all reacting with each other and people think that is basic?
I’d like to meet these people and tell them that maybe they’re over simplifying things.
Life is not simple. It is not something special or something unique.
If you took everyone on Earth’s bodies, and compared them you would find they were made of the same things, the same elements and the same atoms.
If you looked at their brains, you might find a slight difference.
If someone had Alzheimer’s for instance, you’d find their brain shrivelled and repulsive.

Maybe i’m being over complicated and cynical.

And so what if I am?

Are you going to tell me off?

Tell me i’m stupid, ridiculous, pathetic, or what?

I already know that, so go tell someone who needs to be told. I have no time for you and your selfish little fantasies. Thinking people actually care about your opinion. They don’t.

The basics.

My name?
What is a name?
“name n.
1. A word or words by which an entity is designated and distinguished from others”
Eureka!
I have no name. No real name at least. Blank. Clear. Clean.
Even then I have a name. My name is Lights Out.

Age?
What is age? “Oh god shut up with the philosophical nonsense and tell us your god damn age for fucks’ sake.”
I was born in the late 80s.
Work it out for yourself.

Why?

Why what…?
Why do you have an account on this pathetic website?
Because I am so sad that this is the only way to get rid of what’s inside.
Don’t you have friends or family to listen to you?
Nope. I have friends and family. But they won’t and don’t listen to me, why should they, I am an adult and should be adult enough not to be filled with such hatred.
So why inflict this on random people?
Because I don’t care about you and you don’t care about me, and I like it that way.
What would happen if you didn’t get rid of what’s inside of you?
It would eventually eat me from the inside until I go insane and put a gun to my head to paint the walls with my brain.
Okay then.
Sweet.

Anything else?
Nope.

Good, now go away and do something with this pile of gobshite.

You realise that no one will even read this except you, right?

I do indeed but on the off chance that someone will read it, i’d like to say thank you to my doctor, who didn’t believe I would kill myself.

Well he was right, obviously.

Obviously not, because it is inevitable that I will be the one to end my life.

Get over it then.

Done.