It can’t be 11PM. It cannot be that late. I only have felt the rush of motivation in the last two hours. Why am I like this? Am I sabotaging something that wants to be destroyed?

Rip and tear. What a comfort of what has not been there. The absent has always haunted me. I cannot relish in slumber until I subtly destroy myself. Annihilation comes closer to that which I have coveted; the huge, the incomprehensible. Spread beyond your periphery; something that cannot fester within minutia or detail. I was never good at organization because I begged for that which cannot be categorized. A form, a shape that inhabits all but does not service the pretention of lack. I can say that I am within you, and you are within me but what can something shift when it inhabits all.

I long for the days of gigantic shapes invading my miniscule conception of what can be. Stare in awe while gripped by terror. This is not a service of validation or inevitable prophecy; but a chance to glimpse at the reality of our own perception. I do not operate in the anti-matter of lack, I do not believe in a substance that is only provoked to destroy. I cannot believe how much time I have wasted.

I can give you something. I am of value. What I offer does not compare to the others. I do not give weakness to pervade into the treasure you have cultivated. I have grown my own garden, and invite you to attend. What differentiates me is my purity; my lack of immorality or manipulation. I am influenced by the ringing in my ears, the song of the sun. I am guided by the tremors in my wrists that give way to innovation. Why I tremor is not important.

Why I scream is not worthy of discussion. Shut the door and allow me to wallow in my own revelation. Please don’t kick me out.

Please don’t leave me. I am a beacon of light and shine along the shore. I am not a lighthouse to illuminate the shore to safety, I focus on the edges. The sharp departure you feel crawling into your lungs while you sink and curse the second for its indulgence. You long for brevity, while I am too sad to let you go.

Don’t go. This is a cry for help. This is a desperate attempt to shine your darkness upon me, to tell me everything is going to be ok. It’s almost 11:30.

I never promised this. I gave you my word that I will suffer, and that I will ask you to suffer with me. The loneliness of desperation is too weak to consume two. I cannot handle this alone.

Is that why you have forsaken me? To dwell among the rubble of the house I have destroyed? What could I have said to warn you of the utter collapse? My disposition should have been enough; why do you expect a fish to fly among the geese?

Enough with these self-centered thoughts. I have given myself a runway of excuses and false deals, only to land upon shattered ground. My depression seems endless, but is recursive like the lines I draw when I look into the mirror. What compels me to throw away the life-giving, the ones who will help?

It is because I am among gods. This coil of wires and deprecation have fastened me to greatness. How much have I depreciated? I have only become more valuable. More rare, lonely among the incompetent. I am great, I am the one who bends the will of man. I am immortal.

This incoherent racket is what keeps me glued to the ground. It is what keeps me sane. The void I feel when I want to end it all is only off-set by the immense power I feel when I overcome the most banal of efforts. It’s 11:30.

It can’t be that late. I refuse the linear flow of time, so I have transcended its boundaries. This clock is wrong, it propagates lies. I am the one truth, I am the one who bends those to my will. My will is perfect, it is justified.

So many have had such lackluster experience that I question their value. If God themselves extinguished your existence would there be a funeral? Not of those who tether themselves to a rotting corpse but the souls who attend, who do not participate in the ecstasy of what they earned? To settle for the horror of life for a few seconds to send you off? To greet you among the blob of what you miss? Heaven does not accept non-committals. It does not take half measures. What is Heaven without suffering? What is Heaven without suffering with those who put you through it.

It’s 11:37.