...

I have come to dislike who i have become.

My heart cries because of it.

I want to run away and tear away from reality

For, it seems, it is only in my dreams that i feel so alive.

Life has, these past few days, become such a chore,

An obligation we must sought to do.

Life, for me has become so idle, so listless.

But perhaps it is with my own accord i have come to disclaim my love for it.

Maybe my unconscious mind has realized this fact a long time ago;

It just took quite some time for it to surface.

I do realize that my mind, my thoughts, my actions, my soul and my values are far from what you call unadulterated.

It is tainted by my frivolous and teasing vanity.

Oh, by the stars why does man have to create in them such a narcissistic arrogance with such extremities that it renders them ignorant, as much as they are apathetic?

Vanity is the cultivated craft of Satan himself.

Is it not due to vanity did Satan hence fall from his angelic state?

Is it not due to vanity did man and woman fall from the good graces of God?

Vanity has corrupted my soul.

I realized that all i really do is think of myself, a fault that is so much embedded in my soul that i can't seem to pry it from the little good i have in me.

Sigh.

I feel like crying my heart out until every creature in this wretched earth trembles with nonsensical sympathy because of it.

Unfortunately i cannot,

For i fear.

I fear of what people might think of me.

Dear Lord! How even my fear has been corrupted by my own vanity!

It has rendered me useless;

a living vegetable.

Though, i find it quite funny.

Why you ask?

For though my mind struggles with all thoughts of depression and insanity (and all the enigmas that my mind conjures up),

I fear that no one in this world even knows what the hell i feel.

I accuse myself for that climactic down fall.

Now that i think about there is nothing so climactic about it.

The word climax seems too majestic to fall upon such a creature as i.

My mind crumbles before the deprecating facts.

Sometimes i wish i can clothe myself with animosity.

So that no one will know who i am, only the idea of me.

I just hate how i can create a labyrinth before me only to confuse the very ends of my mind's capacity.

I probably should stop now.

For all i care i can go on and on and on about things that people probably don't give squat about.

Oh vanity! How i loathe your very existence!

As the magnanimous narcissus slithers out of my mouth, all i can do is regret.

So, for now, i go.

I now free you from the terrible clutches of my useless, contemptuous mockery.