Random Boo

Alone I am perched upon my rigid chair within my frigid chamber. It’s dark and gloomy, deeply obscured by inky shadows devouring the warmth, devouring the very soul, devouring the very existence of the room. Only the echoing pulsation of a clock drumming its piecing rhythm remains. This is my chamber, this is my life. I find myself lost in a pointless void, with neither reason nor benefit to persevere life. What be the purpose in such a life I am burdened with, hampered, trapped in the restraining chain of anxiety that be the very existence of I? I’m a talent-less fool with nothing but a dream I can not translate, nothing but a concept of life I can not understand, like an inkless pen I stand here inanimate, in the shadow of my own dream, a nonentity. With all my sins and foul judgements, I am not disorientated, adrift, or astray, I am lost. Everyday this tormenting reminiscence tickles my throat, a sort of displacing and desiccated feel that submits me to sensations of sickness. I can’t even look myself in the mirror anymore without diverse feelings of defeatism and loathing as my mind becomes segregated from me. I seem to have washed my hands of myself in an attempt to rid myself of hurt and hate, I am not me, and I will never want to be.  I welcome the utopia of death, I desire the worlds end. I hate the human species, no compassion; I have no sympathy for them at all. They have overstayed their welcome. They are corrupted with greed like lust and gluttony. The mentality of Hitler, the self-discipline of Roscoe Arbuckle, and about as useful to the world as Graham Norton, This is not madness, this is simply observation.

An epiphany has dawned, forgive my previous haste towards the aforementioned sin, I am no sinner, how can I be? It’s fictional like evil be just opinion. I feel a self disrepute, but how can I be shameful of particular reminiscences when only I have knowledge of them. Who is judging me?
However, innate personality also nonexistent therefore said memories is me, I am the product of my upbringing. One should then embrace these sin labelled memories as token. Life is no test!
As contradictory as the following statement may sound I insure you it is not. You must realize that there is no rabbit hole. The meaning of life is the desire of life. Emotional obstructionism is the human sphere, a nucleus manipulating the pulses of the self renders our one desire into a multifaceted intricate imagination of aspiration however utterly insignificant, and all the splendour is this bio-contraption simply desires life, nothing more. I am no sinner.

Freeview appears to be all the quality that was once offered by the old five channel analogue system, only now is divided over forty plus channels. Most of which present nothing but back to back ‘Cash In The Attic’, a show that I have observed before but never witnessed anybody ever actually go in an attic, should really be called ‘Cash In The Shed’.  Britain’s Got Talent! The names incorrect for a start, and not only does it make me cringe but is also suspiciously much like Fame Academy and Pop Idol. Freeview also has a lot of channels that don’t even start till six o’clock and even then it’s not long before they show cheap game shows. Presenters I’ve never heard of drugged up on Prozac ripping off Family Fortunes, and using surveys taken in Cardiff, so the top answer on famous cities in England is Ryan Giggs. Graham Norton is given his own show because they literately can not find anywhere to dump him. The channel Dave just has five episodes of TopGear on a loop. A gay, a lesbian, and a drag queen walk into a room, no this isn’t a joke, it’s called Big Brother, and it’s accompanied by even more mind numbing shows like Big Brother’s Little Brother, Big Brother’s Big Mouth, Big Brother’s Little Sister, Big Brother’s Second Cousin Twice Removed, well I’m making them up now. So many adverts are vomited out; an episode of QI can last up to two hours. The News is presented by twelve different people playing musical chairs, and the weather man’s background map has been replaced by what looks like Space Invaders. Entertainment, Informative? Just looks like crap to me.

Constant pressure to conform
To act, to play, to perform
On a stage set as born
To follow a life forlorn
Be wallow, pride be worn
Life’s prearranged script unsworn
A souls thorn renders dreams torn
To live a life, a life unborn

Blasting clatter in a bang of despair, nothing can match the aggravation inflicted by the exasperatingly high pitched screaming of the alarm clock, and at the blink of my wakening it was most unwelcome.  Another day awaited me. Even as I pen this dribbling nostalgic confetti of reminiscence, my mind pierces in antagonism.  But, like every show that is one’s life, the show must go on. Ascend; I then performed, as I escaped the place of my slumbering rest. The deserted bed felt damp and flat, as the bed sheet adhered to my skin. Clinging like fate, I knew then at that very moment that it was all downhill from there.