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Reality Pills.

            He had ADHD, and he took medication. Under the influence he found himself far more capable in every facet of his life. He could learn more easily, he could play his instruments better, he drew beautiful pictures, and he was motivated. He would plan his motivation a day in advance; he could only be motivated to do one thing at a time. “Tomorrow I will become a better musician” “tomorrow I will read that book I have wanted to read”. He found that he wanted to be constantly proactive whilst afflicted by the pills. He saw anything that advanced his own capabilities and knowledge of things that suited his interests to be proactive. The pills made him far more introverted. He didn’t care so much about friendships or sex. He made friends for the soul purpose of sparking his intrigue; befriending those who possessed qualities that he desired. He perused women in the same manor. Physical characteristics meant less to him. The stupidity of normal human behavior disgusted him. He cared only about people, who cared about themselves; who were not blind to the world under them.

            When the pills wore off he was slightly different. His hobbies and interests remained the same, but his level of skill shrunk. He could not contain himself in social situations and was forced to watch from within as he made an ass of himself. He was less serious and cared less about meaningful discussion and more about a good laugh. He was a hadean who could not see his own potential. He would sit at his piano and listen in horror as the sound coming from his hands was far below his own capabilities. He felt trapped inside of his total lack of focus, motivation, and self control. The pills became a crucial part of his personal identity. Without them he could not appreciate a beautiful work of art the way he knew he could. He could not win the intense games he played online. He could not express himself in a way that satisfied. He did not use his own abilities nearly to their full capacity. He was more focused on sex, hunger, and cheep fast burned happiness.

            He had a much greater understanding of reality than most people. Most people don’t even care about such trivial maters. He had come to the conclusion long ago that there is no reality, and that logic itself is a mere man made tool. He thought that the first and last real philosophical discovery was that one knows nothing but that they lack knowledge. To know anything is to be wrong about it. Reality is infinite and indefinable. Nothing and everything are both one and the same. Most people turn their heads at the sound of this type of intense intellectual digging. The digging will never stop. Everyone is digging in the same dirt, and trying to be different. Like many diggers, he didn't see himself as a human being. he felt like a mere observer; like an alien spy. He disassociated himself with the humans he hated so much. That's why he took the pills.

Falling into the sky.

            He couldn't remember how he got there, nor did it matter to him at the time, and everything lacked a distinct vividness. All seemed to make sense. A man who looked familiar could be seen, and the sight of him filled the air with respect and admiration, though he couldn't, nor did he try, to determine who this man was. He felt a close connection with this man. Perhaps the man was everything he wished to become. Slowly his attention shifted from the man, and was caught on his thoughts of doubt and overall depression. He was poisoned. Nothing he did mattered at all, so he didn't want to do anything. He learned to cope with that; with knowledge that he would never be anybody but himself. Gravity prevents one from falling into the sky.

Happy Pills.

            The pills came with a few undesirable side effects. One of them was occasional diarrhea, though this seemed tolerable. Another was a period of depression while under their influence. For an hour he felt a strong lack of care about his own life or anything that was a part of it. Depression being total lack of emotion; the pills made him depressed. While he felt nothing it seemed as though everyone else was a zombie. From another perspective, he would have looked the same to them. Everything was so clear and plain. His head was above the clouds of bias that most try to see through.

            He was not a zombie. The one thing that possessed him was love. He desired the mutually embracing hug that came from a close and meaningful relationship, but he found it hard to open up to people. Those he found himself able to open up to had the same problems as him, and he was not able to connect. His struggle seemed endless. Each day he swallowed another dose of reality and continued on his long hard trek through the desolate and cold fields of empty hearts in search of a glimmer of warmth. Most of the time, he traveled nomadically, moving from one glimmer to another. But the glimmers always faded, and never could satisfy. If he did find a glimmer that was strong enough to stoke into a raging fire, he feared above all else that he would not know how, and it would be smothered to ash.

           

Cigarette.

            Her head was on fire. He tried to consume her into his heart and fuel his addiction. He was lonely and needed to fill himself with Sydney’s fumes.  However Sydney was flame resistant and he had wasted his efforts in his attempt to kindle a flame. She was the kind of girl that could burn hot, and bright for a long time, but he didn’t have what it takes. Most girls like that never let themselves burn, they live free of all ties and are happy. He wanted to cage one of these beautiful birds, and he would spend his whole life trying. Rather than fly, he would rather consume the flight of others. He knew what he was. He was a chain smoking monster. However he had never gotten the chance to smoke a single cigarette. Perhaps once he got the taste of it he would be satisfied. It seemed like he would never know. Someday someone will want to smoke him. He felt like that day would never come. He felt like he was burning himself away. One day he would fly into the sun. He believed it.

           

Tip Dancing Naked.

            He was quite attractive, and was confident. He was arrogant but not pretentious. He didn't like to talk to average people, but he loved talking to introverts. He had a way of opening them up like an oyster, and revealing the pearls within. Over time he came to believe that the only way to grow the kind of relationship he desired, he would need to open himself up in the same way. He felt naked and he felt like he was performing intricate dance that a ballerina might do; A dance of submission. He danced on the tips of his toes bare naked, to an audience of one. In all of his awkwardness, it was quite beautiful. But still, those he chose to dance for were not ready to see such a dance. They did not know how to dance themselves.

            The time came that he found more than a glimmer of light in a girl. She had an aversion to eroticism, and was socially awkward, but he fell in love with her. He would be forced to fight an uphill battle to her heart. He would have to teach her to dance. She cared for him, but she did not know how to express it; she was trapped atop a tall tower. He would climb every day. She sent mixed messages, but he loved it. He didn't even care if she was asexual, because all that he desired was mutual emotional embrace. Sexuality could come later. To get out of the cold you must first build shelter.

Rebel

            He was not a rebel. He prized his well cultured individuality, and respected this in others. Unlike most rebellious youths he did not close himself off to things just because they were popular. He gave everything a chance and always stayed true to himself. He didn’t rebel for the sake of rebelling; he rebelled because he would rather be himself than to be a follower. He saw most people as cultists to their beliefs. People that think good and bad are real things, and think that action should be taken to make people be good, even if they are not hurting anyone. At one time he took steps to break this in people by acting in unusual manors. He wanted people to recognize that there are always two sides to a coin. One should empathize not only with a victim but with the victimizer as well, or the system of legality will never truly help anyone. After a while, he just gave up caring about the stupidity of the common American. It seemed impossible to stop. He was not a rebel, he was only himself. He didn’t weigh his actions in comparison to societal norms. A rebel is just another follower.

            He was a follower. He was in love and did everything to make her happy. One of the reasons he liked her was because she did not demand a lot from him, and he was able to just be himself. If she told him to jump off a bridge, he would do it, but she never would ask anything of him. He was in love with her, and became increasingly attached to her. He could vent his frustrations with her, and she would hug him embracing. She also seemed to tell him the troubles of her life. Their relationship was healthy, and pure.

For your eyes

And he could not find any woman more beautiful than her. She was awkwardly tall and skinny, and had no breasts. She thought her nose was too large but he could not find flaw in it. Her skin was fair and almost flawless. She dressed in general clothing of the lowest par, but she could wear the shit out of them. She wore her hair in a long pony tail for ease of maintenance, and she always wore jeans; never a dress or a skirt. Though her clothing may seem dull, she was an artist. Little could surpass her capacity to create. She could illustrate a masterful picture, or write a novel so profound. They both shared their love of art.

He was about the same height, but not quite as skinny, however he was skinny for his wide frame. He was self conscious about his large calves which looked muscular, but forced him into a more masculine appearance. He had acne on his face and on his broad shoulders. His build was similar to that of a statue of a Greek god, as was once described to him by a friend. His normal expression seemed angry or concentrated. He was intense. His hair was longer than hers, and also worn in a pony tail. He often dressed in button down shirts, and dress pants, or jeans. He wore fashionable glasses, and cared about his appearance, but only because he cared about his impression. He was sure to be intense.

Prey

            Over and over again he crossed the line of her comfort zone, but she always came back. This caused him to ride an emotional roller coaster. But one day the roller coaster ran out of tracks, and she flew away like some kind of bird. She flew away and she felt sorrow, and guilt. She didn’t know how to cope with her emotions. She never talked to him again. She began to shut more and more people out, and locked herself in her room most of the time. Others didn’t understand her like he did. She soon fell prey to bullying. Her newly exposed heart would prove a tasty snack for the vultures and dogs in her life.

            She didn’t know how to cry; She had no shoulder to cry on. Everyone else seemed more alive to her, and happier. She tried cutting herself, but realized that after cutting not only are you still in despair, but you are now also bleeding. She had become so withdrawn that most of her friends began to dislike her. Now no one could see the pearl within. Every word she spoke quivered with her sorrow.

            She began using various drugs; anything to escape. She yearned to be held and to cry, but she fought away any chance of that. Her only friends were the drugs. She felt like dying, and she blamed the people in her life. Now a walking callus, she hated herself and everyone else as well.

Cowboy

            A boy named Cade, who was also quite insecure, began to draw from her sadness. His bullying grew out of control. She hated going to school, and hated walking the halls. Soon the bullying became all consuming in her life. She became pregnant with an un-vented wrath for Cade, until, one day, her drug dealer mentioned buying a gun. She was captivated and drained him of information. Three months later she had her gun. At first she aimed it at herself in a dangerous game of chicken, but she began to realize that it wasn’t her that needed to be dealt with.

            She brought the gun to school, and was caught by a teacher who noticed the outline of a gun in her backpack.