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Description
Hey _______,
                 _____ here, its 2:01pm Saturday. A history essay, EE draft, Exam revision, a week or so of math, some Japanese. Monday most needs to be done. I'm stressed right now, at all. Very melancholy. It's kind of strange really, there's so much to be done, yesterday I wasn't at school, had to rest my ankle because of Thursday's accident. Perfect opportunity to get something done - nothing. Barely picked up a pen. Watched movies from about 7:30pm till 1am. Woke up today - 11:30am. The work is lingering in a pile on the floor next to the computer desk. I know I should work. I know I should be pummelling out the EE draft or brushing up my maths or something. But I can't focus, not in a frustrating way, more of just an apathetic nonchalant mode. It's there, it's staring me in the face and all I’ve been doing this week is procrastinating, casually glancing, working when I supposedly need to. Over confidence with a strong splash of complacency? Probably. Hell I don't really get why I'm typing this email. Just another way to waste time I guess.

2:07pm, geez only 6 minutes to write that, oops now its 2:08, 7 minutes sorry. I have this lingering doubt that I'm being over indulgent of late, but for some reason I don't mind, I've never failed before exactly, the ultimate arrogance? Again probably. I reckon I've changed allot over these 2 years, I hate arrogance, maybe that's what I've become now, so over confident in my own abilities. Something tells me I should. "Take pride in your work!" Everything comes full circle. I just finished watching 'Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind.' - Beautiful film, odd and peculiar - but beautiful. Everything going to end up all right. That's what movies generally do. That's what generally has happened for me, I stress, I worry, I get upset, I breakdown and I always come through on top - smashing all the assessment pieces and work. I haven't failed to do what needs to be done yet. Perhaps I’ve subtly snapped inside. Subconsciously have just said - "Look, you know you're going to kill it, you know you're going to be fine, why the fuck get upset and worry about it? Fate will sort out everything." - Nothing comes to those who wait, nothing comes to those who don't pick up the mallet and the axe and carve themselves a world to live in. I know that. And I know what I need to do, it's the drive switch is gone. Please press eject and try again. It's really odd, I'm not upset, I'm not happy; I ain't even angry, just blank. I'm writing this completely sober and aware, but not really seeing the world around, I mean I visually see the keyboard, the desk, I hear the music in my ears, but I'm not reacting with it, It's there I'm here, there's no consequence. One of those moods I guess, some day’s I submerse myself in the day, I see the current the flow, I leave my mind I switch off and dive into the action and the emotion and the people. There's no sense of time, place, being or even purpose. Just breathing laughing, heart beating in what is the moment which is just seconds passing away - it's 2:18pm now by the way. But then there are moments like now, where everything seems so surreal and wrong. There's a phone on the desk, there’s and empty piece of plastic composites we call a bottle - we fill it with water. It's just odd, wrong nothing fits it just exists, not conscious not right not wrong, not alive nor dead, it's just an object a still life painting come 3D. Everything is so perfectly composed and I just...  I do feel like I can relate with any of it, its all just so peculiar and wrong, but harmonious and peaceful. Perfect. The tragedy on TV, the deaths the horror the immobility and implacability of death. It doesn’t reach me here, im so fortunate, so lucky to have what I have and yet it means nothing. Where is the tragedy in this life? Where is the imminent doom surrounding the cocoon of existence? 2:22pm. wasting time, wasting time. That's all I'm doing right now that's all it boils down to. Hell I'd be amazed if you're still reading this - well I guess in a sense you're compelled to really. You have to fulfil this obligation to waste your time reading this just in case I mention something you find important. Pretty selfish I guess. My useless ramblings here, which I address to you sapping your time. Please let me apologize for that, truly, it’s wrong that people like myself use someone as kind as ourself to bleed their insecurities and mental.... I can't think of the word now.... convulsions! That’s the word, yes, mental convulsions to which you're forced to read, answer and study. I'm sorry for that but I can’t help myself.

2:26pm. Nearly 30 minutes I've been typing now. Why am I so conscious of these things? Why do I force myself to be such an aberration in these series of images called life? This world, this life, its one great big movie and I feel like a black hole. In every seen not partaking, outside looking in, observing the observed who in turn observe me in some twisted parallel universe. Apparently there are 11 dimensions - Michio Kaku - Japanese physicist is on the forefront of it. Going where even Einstein couldn't - string theory the worlds made up on vibrating strings - the universe just one great big cosmic symphony. I like that. God - not a vicarious being - but a composer. A great musician playing upon the ultimate stage. I wonder what it would be like to hear that symphony - probably sanity shattering I’m sure but it would be bliss I don't doubt that. But what am I talking about now I wonder? I'm raving again. I can't help it. 2:31pm I finally talk about myself and I re-direct the conversation to the world, using my theories and thoughts to baffle and obscure everything surrounding the matters and issue you no doubt really want me to discuss. I don’t know. These are just my thoughts in cyber space. Light reflections propelled by electricity. Technically they don't exist. Technically nothing exists - we're all just light reflections. - See there I go again.  Why is it so hard to focus to be content with one topic one issue one I idea, no I have to spiral off into non realities and ideas of cosmic capacities about something I don't even understand because I read it in some fucking magazine. Jesus. - don't even get me started about him. It’s bad enough I’m having a conversation with myself as though this email counts for something. Hoorah she says, he's getting to the bottom of something, but what? Confusion that’s all confusion, insecurity. Tired, exhausted? This reads like some madman's diary. Breaking down ward’s as the message continues. End transmission. - But there's no power socket to shut this machine down. Dreams and hysteria. And I’m still blank. My hands are moving my head is thinking the words I’m writing, but nothing else is existing. Nothing else matters... - good song by the way. I'm now considering whether I should send this to you now. I wonder what the repercussions will be. No doubt I’ll be in your office on Monday. Whatever and ever amen. 2:38pm. I'm sorry to leave this puddle of mental vomit in your inbox. It's odd. I can right all of this without feeling anything other than sobriety - no I haven’t been drinking - that's dead honest. 2:39pm. Obsessions with time. There is so much more here I can write. I wonder whether you want to read the rest I’m lining up. It's all so very progressive. The de-evolution of _____'s mind. I was able to keep it together before. I was able to hold onto the pain and hate and drive forward. Fuel the fires of determination with rage and hurt. But now I’m empty. I've run out of things to hate, because I don't need anger anymore, I don't seem to feel it. This melancholy stimulates nothing more than apathetic mental regression into non reality and email. 2:41pm. you asked me once what was I searching for. The answer is simple I guess. A muse. Someone I can fall apart into and let them piece me back together. So many people have clung to my arm, drinking deep from my wrists. I've nothing more to give to them - I don't care anymore. _____ hugged me the other night - I felt nothing. I used to love her, I gave everything to her. Time, patience, care, everything I could and it wasn't enough. Same with _____. It hurts allot when all that you just isn't enough for some people. Aha she says, this is beginning to make sense now. I don't like what ____ has become. I don't like how distant ______ is. They took all I had to give and gave very little back. Perfectly frank ______ looks to me for support, but I'm afraid I don't care anymore. I don't much for her anymore. She's like a fragile doll who sits on my shoulder. I could reach up and rip her heart out and throw her away if I chose to. But I don't. And ______, well she's too busy off banging _____. I don't want to hurt them. But at times I want to. At times I really want to just scream at _____ and break her apart piece by piece. I could I really could, I could destroy her and scar her so deeply I doubt she would recover. I doubt I don't know though. In me I have the method and the knowledge to be the villain to be that hateful, spiteful bad guy reducing people to the pathetic scraps of amoeba they are - (what did I tell you about my arrogance? shocking isn’t it?) But I don't have the will to be that person I don't have the strength to be the villain. Maybe that's a good thing. These two entities. Which fractures further, are what me is. There is the benevolent one, the joyous one, the determined one, the sad one, the malevolent one and the joker. I've got a personality to suits all styles when I choose, cautious arrogant driven upset tired angry hateful spiteful, gluttonous, pathetic.  There's no end. Where does one personality end and another begin? Perhaps I’m even confused about that. (Told you this would be some scary shit) Then again maybe this is what you want. Maybe I’m just giving you what you want (or don't want) to hear. Do I know? Hell no! You think I understand why I’m writing this? No! That's the point I don't know why I’m writing this I don't understand I’m confused, I don't know. It's 2:56. How the time flies when you're having fun.

Description
Hey _______,
                 _____ here, its 2:01pm Saturday. A history essay, EE draft, Exam revision, a week or so of math, some Japanese. Monday most needs to be done. I'm stressed right now, at all. Very melancholy. It's kind of strange really, there's so much to be done, yesterday I wasn't at school, had to rest my ankle because of Thursday's accident. Perfect opportunity to get something done - nothing. Barely picked up a pen. Watched movies from about 7:30pm till 1am. Woke up today - 11:30am. The work is lingering in a pile on the floor next to the computer desk. I know I should work. I know I should be pummelling out the EE draft or brushing up my maths or something. But I can't focus, not in a frustrating way, more of just an apathetic nonchalant mode. It's there, it's staring me in the face and all I’ve been doing this week is procrastinating, casually glancing, working when I supposedly need to. Over confidence with a strong splash of complacency? Probably. Hell I don't really get why I'm typing this email. Just another way to waste time I guess.

2:07pm, geez only 6 minutes to write that, oops now its 2:08, 7 minutes sorry. I have this lingering doubt that I'm being over indulgent of late, but for some reason I don't mind, I've never failed before exactly, the ultimate arrogance? Again probably. I reckon I've changed allot over these 2 years, I hate arrogance, maybe that's what I've become now, so over confident in my own abilities. Something tells me I should. "Take pride in your work!" Everything comes full circle. I just finished watching 'Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind.' - Beautiful film, odd and peculiar - but beautiful. Everything going to end up all right. That's what movies generally do. That's what generally has happened for me, I stress, I worry, I get upset, I breakdown and I always come through on top - smashing all the assessment pieces and work. I haven't failed to do what needs to be done yet. Perhaps I’ve subtly snapped inside. Subconsciously have just said - "Look, you know you're going to kill it, you know you're going to be fine, why the fuck get upset and worry about it? Fate will sort out everything." - Nothing comes to those who wait, nothing comes to those who don't pick up the mallet and the axe and carve themselves a world to live in. I know that. And I know what I need to do, it's the drive switch is gone. Please press eject and try again. It's really odd, I'm not upset, I'm not happy; I ain't even angry, just blank. I'm writing this completely sober and aware, but not really seeing the world around, I mean I visually see the keyboard, the desk, I hear the music in my ears, but I'm not reacting with it, It's there I'm here, there's no consequence. One of those moods I guess, some day’s I submerse myself in the day, I see the current the flow, I leave my mind I switch off and dive into the action and the emotion and the people. There's no sense of time, place, being or even purpose. Just breathing laughing, heart beating in what is the moment which is just seconds passing away - it's 2:18pm now by the way. But then there are moments like now, where everything seems so surreal and wrong. There's a phone on the desk, there’s and empty piece of plastic composites we call a bottle - we fill it with water. It's just odd, wrong nothing fits it just exists, not conscious not right not wrong, not alive nor dead, it's just an object a still life painting come 3D. Everything is so perfectly composed and I just...  I do feel like I can relate with any of it, its all just so peculiar and wrong, but harmonious and peaceful. Perfect. The tragedy on TV, the deaths the horror the immobility and implacability of death. It doesn’t reach me here, im so fortunate, so lucky to have what I have and yet it means nothing. Where is the tragedy in this life? Where is the imminent doom surrounding the cocoon of existence? 2:22pm. wasting time, wasting time. That's all I'm doing right now that's all it boils down to. Hell I'd be amazed if you're still reading this - well I guess in a sense you're compelled to really. You have to fulfil this obligation to waste your time reading this just in case I mention something you find important. Pretty selfish I guess. My useless ramblings here, which I address to you sapping your time. Please let me apologize for that, truly, it’s wrong that people like myself use someone as kind as ourself to bleed their insecurities and mental.... I can't think of the word now.... convulsions! That’s the word, yes, mental convulsions to which you're forced to read, answer and study. I'm sorry for that but I can’t help myself.

2:26pm. Nearly 30 minutes I've been typing now. Why am I so conscious of these things? Why do I force myself to be such an aberration in these series of images called life? This world, this life, its one great big movie and I feel like a black hole. In every seen not partaking, outside looking in, observing the observed who in turn observe me in some twisted parallel universe. Apparently there are 11 dimensions - Michio Kaku - Japanese physicist is on the forefront of it. Going where even Einstein couldn't - string theory the worlds made up on vibrating strings - the universe just one great big cosmic symphony. I like that. God - not a vicarious being - but a composer. A great musician playing upon the ultimate stage. I wonder what it would be like to hear that symphony - probably sanity shattering I’m sure but it would be bliss I don't doubt that. But what am I talking about now I wonder? I'm raving again. I can't help it. 2:31pm I finally talk about myself and I re-direct the conversation to the world, using my theories and thoughts to baffle and obscure everything surrounding the matters and issue you no doubt really want me to discuss. I don’t know. These are just my thoughts in cyber space. Light reflections propelled by electricity. Technically they don't exist. Technically nothing exists - we're all just light reflections. - See there I go again.  Why is it so hard to focus to be content with one topic one issue one I idea, no I have to spiral off into non realities and ideas of cosmic capacities about something I don't even understand because I read it in some fucking magazine. Jesus. - don't even get me started about him. It’s bad enough I’m having a conversation with myself as though this email counts for something. Hoorah she says, he's getting to the bottom of something, but what? Confusion that’s all confusion, insecurity. Tired, exhausted? This reads like some madman's diary. Breaking down ward’s as the message continues. End transmission. - But there's no power socket to shut this machine down. Dreams and hysteria. And I’m still blank. My hands are moving my head is thinking the words I’m writing, but nothing else is existing. Nothing else matters... - good song by the way. I'm now considering whether I should send this to you now. I wonder what the repercussions will be. No doubt I’ll be in your office on Monday. Whatever and ever amen. 2:38pm. I'm sorry to leave this puddle of mental vomit in your inbox. It's odd. I can right all of this without feeling anything other than sobriety - no I haven’t been drinking - that's dead honest. 2:39pm. Obsessions with time. There is so much more here I can write. I wonder whether you want to read the rest I’m lining up. It's all so very progressive. The de-evolution of _____'s mind. I was able to keep it together before. I was able to hold onto the pain and hate and drive forward. Fuel the fires of determination with rage and hurt. But now I’m empty. I've run out of things to hate, because I don't need anger anymore, I don't seem to feel it. This melancholy stimulates nothing more than apathetic mental regression into non reality and email. 2:41pm. you asked me once what was I searching for. The answer is simple I guess. A muse. Someone I can fall apart into and let them piece me back together. So many people have clung to my arm, drinking deep from my wrists. I've nothing more to give to them - I don't care anymore. _____ hugged me the other night - I felt nothing. I used to love her, I gave everything to her. Time, patience, care, everything I could and it wasn't enough. Same with _____. It hurts allot when all that you just isn't enough for some people. Aha she says, this is beginning to make sense now. I don't like what ____ has become. I don't like how distant ______ is. They took all I had to give and gave very little back. Perfectly frank ______ looks to me for support, but I'm afraid I don't care anymore. I don't much for her anymore. She's like a fragile doll who sits on my shoulder. I could reach up and rip her heart out and throw her away if I chose to. But I don't. And ______, well she's too busy off banging _____. I don't want to hurt them. But at times I want to. At times I really want to just scream at _____ and break her apart piece by piece. I could I really could, I could destroy her and scar her so deeply I doubt she would recover. I doubt I don't know though. In me I have the method and the knowledge to be the villain to be that hateful, spiteful bad guy reducing people to the pathetic scraps of amoeba they are - (what did I tell you about my arrogance? shocking isn’t it?) But I don't have the will to be that person I don't have the strength to be the villain. Maybe that's a good thing. These two entities. Which fractures further, are what me is. There is the benevolent one, the joyous one, the determined one, the sad one, the malevolent one and the joker. I've got a personality to suits all styles when I choose, cautious arrogant driven upset tired angry hateful spiteful, gluttonous, pathetic.  There's no end. Where does one personality end and another begin? Perhaps I’m even confused about that. (Told you this would be some scary shit) Then again maybe this is what you want. Maybe I’m just giving you what you want (or don't want) to hear. Do I know? Hell no! You think I understand why I’m writing this? No! That's the point I don't know why I’m writing this I don't understand I’m confused, I don't know. It's 2:56. How the time flies when you're having fun.