Higher Ground.

I feel like dying.

I don't feel like staying dead, but I feel like being reincarnated. I feel like quitting my job so I can actually talk with people and throwing away all of my comic books and video games. Seriously, that lonely subculture limits itself so much, people hate you when you read too much or when you find solace in billions of compressed zeroes and ones.

How is playing Madden more pathetic than playing football?

That's all I've got to say.

I'm turning primitivist.

Experience.

I know that you can't aver associate a love song with anyone.
You've heard that breaking the law is a terrible thing.
I know that you can't trust anyone who needs to assure you of their trustworthiness.
You've heard that change is a bad thing.
I know that revenge is a dish best served cold.
You've heard that revenge is the wrong path.

Flight.

How hard is it to move in the air?

Once you're falling, you can't move back up.

All the twists and tumbles in the world while skydiving will move you to the side but it will also move you closer to earth.

So pick a path and go for it, just shoot down.

Indecision is more harmful that wrong decision.

Click, chzzt, click, chzzt, click, chzzt.

You're not above labels, just as I am not above labels.

Somewhere in the very fabric of your existence, there is a spec of stereotype that magnifies and manifests itself in your personality and actions.

Just like there are 16581375 colors that can be formed on a computer using Hexidecimal, there is a finite number of personalities that can be created. Every snowflake has a clone. That is not to say that they fall during the same storm, but both of them exist.

Take one part luck and mix it with one part probability, then add in a pinch of fate and a smidgen of environment and lo and behold, there you are. Look in the mirror, for a perfect example. The only difference between you and that person in the mirror is that anything written on one side will be reflected backwards on the other side.

That's just it, one fundamental difference. That flaw, that small detail separates you from what twisted lack of reality you've come to reject.

You are not special, just as I am not special. If you die, then you are commited into the ground or burnt to a crisp, and then we are the same substance, or lack thereof. It doesn't matter what your favorite song is or who you dated in high school, the only thing that would br running through your now rotted mind is how unpleasant those maggots feel when they crawl around on the inside of your skull.

We are all based off of a template. You'll never be anything more than a man or a woman, there are two possible outcomes there, each with their own bizarre twist, but none so bizarre as to rewrite DNA. None of you can break apart and reconstruct matter, nor can you truly envision what is not matter. What a lack of existence is. It doesn't need to be nothing, rather it cannot be something with which you are familiar. This is a bit of a transition, as opposed to what you're used to. Going from that first dimension to the second is as simple as changing in any way, shape, or form. But to get to the third dimension, you cannot move in the direction that you began in, so your options are limited. Then to reach the fourth dimension you must move constantly and be in a constant state of change.

But to reach that fifth dimension of existence, you must reject all existence that you know. Leave the sandbox and throw it all away. You must leave that familiar area and take everything at face value, while still leaving the option of changing that value based on circumstance.

There's that wall. That wall that exists only within that dimension that you can see. A truly perfect defense is one that we are otherwise unaware of, like a functioning body part or an exceptional national defense system.

But that's it, that delta, that change.
f(x) = 3x^5/2 - 6x^4/2x-1 + x^(5/2)/sq(4x-x^2) + 5x^2 - 14x + 12
f'(x) = 15x^4/2 - [(36x^4 - 24x^3)/(2x^3 - 4x + 1)] + [5x^(5/2)*(4-x^2)-x^(7/2)]/(4-x^2)^3/2 + 10x -14
f''(x) = 30x^3 ........ + 10
f'''(x) = 90x^2 ........ + C
f''''(x) = 180x + C
f'''''(x) = 180
f''''''(x) = 0

Primalism in calculus.

Truth.

This is the truth.

There's this...

This...

This...

This gap.

And that's just it. You've outlived your use.

I hate to be so cold, but again... there's this gap.

It comes with age. Maybe when you're older you'll see.

PersonaLunar.

So we're no longer associated with the Prout school, isn't that odd? Before, if we were to die in a car accident, we would have the suffix of "a student/senior at the Prout High School", but that's gone. Now we're just kids, or adults in some cases, without a home for the next three months. If we die during that period, then we have no affiliations to speak of.

Not like I'm being morbid or anything like that.

But that's it. I went and gave hugs and handshakes to kids that I'll probably see every once in a while, but it'll never be the same. We're all going places, simply put, I'd have to say that the people that I have come into contact with at Prout show more promise than any other group of students that I have come into contact with.

So this is is, a not-so-teary goodbye, as opposed to my other goodbyes.

Maybe that's all I'll ever write.

How sad...

Can't quite live up.

What are the strongest two emotions out there?
Hatred and Love.
And it's a one way street.
And the best part is, I hate the one person that I would have loved.
I can't call it love, but it was the closest that I've experienced.
But now I can't think of any better fate.
I learned, through experience, that the best way to spite someone is to deny them of any right.
Well I think what has happened is the best representation of that punishment that I could have ever imagined.

In other news, I've been considering a career as a vigilante. Not so much a career, actually, but everyone needs a hobby, right?

What it meant.

I didn't cry when I was the butt of their jokes,
I didn't cry when I was rejected,
I didn't cry when I was humiliated,
I didn't cry when the whip cracked,
I didn't cry, no matter what the circumstance.

But I just broke down at the thought of losing all of them.

They meant well, they had to... they just had to...

A kind of Goodbye.

They don't know me, I don't think, but they love me, I think. All we've said to each other was forced conversation, we don't laugh at each other's jokes, nor do we talk on any sort of regular basis: we're not intimate by any stretch of the imagination.

But, we love each other. In five years we'll be able to put all that behind us and talk, I hope.

When I got up to grab my rose, I heard familiar voices cheering. They weren't clapping politely, they were cheering. Looks like I found it out too late, but through some social ciphers I found my place. We never did anything together on the weekends, and there were no pictures of me in the slideshow, but whose fault is that?

Shit, I was wrong...