When I really stop to think about it, I find it exceedingly amusing thinking how I became the person I did today. More so, what I mean is that I'm broken. My parents simply never could figure out how to raise children properly, more so I chalk it up to my dad's severe impatience. And thus, in the aftermath, stood myself, alone, as their only success. My half-brother was a problem, as is my sister. The irony to all this, of course, is that the only reason I turned out right was I was motivated to become the total opposite of my parents. Pretty amusing really, the the only reason I am who I am today is because I hated everything my father was. It was great motivation, at the very least.

I suppose with that said, I came out of it all relatively broken as a human being. I hate my family with a passion. Not even in an angsty teenage sort of way either. I quite seriously detest my family. Furthermore, I've ended up becoming somewhat sociopathic, if not extremely apathetic towards everything and everyone. To top it off, I have problems with depression and suicidal tendencies as well. I'm actually very surprised that I can even maintain healthy relationships with friends outside of my home. That, I still find, is a mystery in and of itself. A fortunate one, but one nonetheless.

Recently, I received news that one of my friends is likely dead; the victim of a fatal traffic accident. Having received said news, I really didn't know how to react. Chilling still, I don't think I even had a real reaction. If I said I did, then it was feigned in the moment. I didn't know whether to be sad, guilty, or anything else in-between so, by default, I felt nothing. I still feel nothing. I don't know how I should feel. I can still recall hearing of my grandmother's imminent death as a child and feeling very little in the way of emotion. This happened again when my last surviving grandmother died and I literally felt nothing. In-fact, I think I went out later that day and did my usual things.

The point I'm getting at, I suppose, is that for being strangely successful in life, I've gotten through said game as a broken character. Everything I ever did has been to the benefit of others and never to myself. My existence is akin to a marionette, with society pulling at my strings. The trials and tribulations of daily life are beginning to grate on my psyche. I'm tired of mediocrity and the mundane. What happens now is my feeble attempt at repairing myself, and one way or another I'll come out of this fixed or I'll spiral down into my own self-induced oblivion. Either is fine with me. I am not afraid to die.

You know, sometimes I really do wonder what the point behind living is. I find myself thinking about that on a relatively regular basis virtually every time I spend extended periods of time by myself. Not that I mean to be down or anything, I'm not even feeling depressed right now, but I just find it to be an interesting question. As a suicidal depressive, sparse sociopath, and, undeniably, a human being, I have upheld relatively skewed views on life from time to time, though I can never find an answer to my question and likely never will.

That said, what point is there really behind life and living? We're born, we live out our mundane lives of mediocrity, and we die. Very few people will ever make any sort of lasting impression upon society; once you're dead, yours is an ineffectual existence extinguished from the face of the Earth and the history of all that was and ever will be. Your memory is carried on by the ones you love, but what is left of your life when they move on, die, or, slowly but surely, oblivion overtakes the remnants of your faded existence? Nothing. Nothing at all. We all hope to matter. We all hope to be remembered. But the truth is, we'll be forgotten. All of us. With time. It's unavoidable. So what, then, is the meaning behind living if it's all so fleeting? Why should I be born if I'm just going to die? Why should I bother living if there's no real point behind it all? I just don't know. I never will, and I accept that as much as it perplexes me.

Lying in this lonesome Japanese apartment, the rain pours outside as thoughts swarm around in my head like bees in a hive. As I ponder these ideas trailing off into infinitude, I listen as a Periphery song warms atmosphere of this hollowed room, taking me places my mind only ever can when I'm by myself.

Reaching for a way out of this dream
I waste my breath ascending
Fears lead me astray
The past brings them to be
What's left to carry me

I don't know why that song affects me so much. The lyrics, the instrumentation, everything just speaks to my subconscious. Somewhere within the inner sanctum of my mind's arcanum, it resonates with the wavelength of my soul to which it responds with a deep feeling of wanting.

And I suppose that's where I am with my life right now. It's been a while since I've been depressed or suicidal, which means my life has seen fit to pursue unfulfilled dreams of grandeur. I'm stuck at a fork leading to the life my parents want of me and the life I want of myself. At the divide is where I stand, left to make a decision, only to result in taking the path not made and blazing my own trail into the twilit horizon.

For the longest time, I've followed the path my parents set up for me. Which mainly meant going to school. Whereas the path I set for myself was the one less traveled, with aspirations of future careers, of forgotten dreams, and thoughts of other such luxuries. I suppose I've gotten to the point where I'm just tired of following over leading. I want to do what I want to because it's what will make me happy and not what others expect of me.

The Metal Memoirs: Differences Make the World Go 'Round

Yes, I'm actually bored enough to talk about this subject....

Having been to a number of various forms of metal concerts, one cannot help but, at a point, begin, to notice the very obvious observation that different kinds of metal attracts a different subset of peoples.

For reference, I'll be basing my observations off of primarily death metal concerts (Black Dahlia Murder) as opposed to wholly deathcore shows (Whitechapel), with some more mixed genre concerts thrown in for good measure.

First off, death metal shows. These concerts are generally populated by men in their 20's all the way into middle age. Generally speaking, the male-to-female ratio is pretty steep in that women are few and far between. Furthermore, these shows tend to be a bit more tame in terms of pit prevalence. There's a higher populace of the arms-crossed-static-position sorts of metalheads, myself included in that. By no means does that mean the pit is nonexistent, it simply means that there's a definite feeling that people are more so there for the music rather than getting fucked up. That said, these are the sorts of concerts that make me feel too young....

Deathcore shows, on the other hand, tend to draw a far younger crowd. These are cocnerts filled with kids of an average combined age 16, if I had to take an educated guess. The male-to-female ratio is also quite a bit more leveled out at a rough estimated ratio of about 3:1, male:female. There are also a lot more scene kids at these sorts of shows, lending itself to an overall feeling of childishness, for lack of a better term. The pits also tend to be rife with screamo kids and, generally, douchebags. Furthermore, as a side-effect of the younger crowd, understanding of common metal show etiquette tends to get lost. Basically, these are the sorts of concerts that make me feel too old....

And of course, in-between, are those concerts that mix up the crowds. Festivals have a high tendency of resulting in this mix. But in sum, those are the just a few of the observations I've made about the crowds at metal shows. Coming up next, why I love pits!

Soundtrack of Our Lives

So I'm bored enough to actually compile this... songs so far:

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up
Baltimora - Tarzan Boy
Haddaway - What is Love
Big Lurch - Texas Boy
SNSD - Gee

Other ideas anyone?

My new fone :D

today i got my newest cellfone. its an htc droid verison. yay
i love it with all my heart!

Enjoy the Silence

I rarely ever post on this blog, that's my own fault. But I need somewhere to think out loud, somewhere to contemplate that shitstorm that is my mind, a respite. Seeing as how I sincerely doubt this post will reach anyone, for the night this place will be the Eden in my own personal Hell.

Anyone who knows me would probably describe me as a normal, upbeat person (or at least so I hope). Those that know me better are more familiar with the personal demons I keep. Namely that I have depression, an affliction which plagues my father's side of my family and which was, apparently, passed unto me at some point in time. More importantly though, I have suicidal tendencies. For most people, having time to themselves is a dream come true. For me, being by myself is one of my fears in a sense. When I'm by myself, I have the time to think of what I've done with my life, the great accomplishments I've made, in other words, none.

Sure, I've done well enough in school and have even received recognition of such much to the chagrin of my parents, but never to myself. I never took pride in any of these so-called accomplishments, it was just another means for them to feel a sense of self-validation, like they had done something right for once. The truth is, virtually everything I've ever done in life has been to try and please them. When I failed and received nothing more than indignation and abuse, when I was blamed for the ills of my family, when it became apparent that my sister was their favorite child and I was pushed to the wayside. Everything I did, I did for them. Why? I don't honestly know, can't say I ever will. Maybe it was just to feel like I was worth something more than what I was....

And so it is that I've inevitably come to the conclusion that my life is an ineffectual one. Have I really done anything with my life of worth? I've certainly not given anything to this backwards fuck society. I'm a 20-year-old kid who's fucking terrified of becoming an adult. I'm a bitter bastard that hates everything and can't let go of the past. They say time heals everything, but that's a fucking lie. Time only makes things worse. I strove to become everything my parents were not, and in the process alienated myself from my entire family. I'm little more than a stranger residing in their abode, a shadow on their wall. If I died, it wouldn't mean anything. Sure, it might hurt some people at first but as so many fuckers like to idealize, "time heals everything." Given enough time, I'd be forgotten and eventually erased from the minds of everyone I know and love. Eradicated from society in a state of oblivion. What we fear most isn't the concept of death itself, but the idea of being forgotten. What happens when that element of being forgotten is a non-issue? Well, you get me.

I simply don't have the motivation or reason necessary to continue my life as it is today. If I don't have that, then should I even bother? I just don't know anymore.... So much of my time spent by myself revolves around my thoughts of suicide. I try to reassure myself that I matter, but I just can't fucking lie to myself. I'm a single grain of sand in a storm and that realization just breaks me. With my end, nothing changes, the world continues revolving. I'm insignificant. I'm meaningless. Because of that, I can't see any reason to bother anymore. I find solace in the eternal respite that death provides. No more strife, no more worries, only an endless freedom found in an infinitesimal blackness. Quite honestly, I find that a more appealing prospect than my moral life.

I don't know what the hell I intended to do with this post. Like I said, I just wanted somewhere to think out loud for once. Maybe it'll help, maybe it won't. But either way, at least I've got that out there. I suppose only time will tell what decision I choose to make. Until then, it's daily life for me as usual. My purgatory. The only thing I ask is that when I do die, could someone please play Blue by Mai Yamame at whatever memorial service I may have? I think I'd like that... I would....

Thanks for the read, and until I return, goodbye.