And I can see you,Running through fields of sorrow

save me

Why am I me? Why do I act this way?

Why must I continue thinking like this

Fuck

Destroy, burn, die

These endless sufferings, cold

Always me

I question my belonging

is this the core of my existence?

Will i go anywhere in this life

will people stop looking at me like I’m A FUCKING FREAK AND TAKE ME THE FUCK SERIOUSLY

maybe

possibly, or never

all I know is it will never end

This might be too much for me

Reading The Inferno by Dante Aligheri, and I honestly cannot stop thinking about death, heaven and hell, the Inferno, the hell portrayed by George Bernard Shaw in Don Juan in Hell  , and Jean Paul Sarte’s hell in No Exit, I ponder what could be real, what would be better.

Hell

What truly IS hell? Who is the Devil, satan, Lucifer, whatever he goes by, is he just the guy that runs it all? Is he truly evil? Is he just an ugly creature encased in a lake of ice made from his tears? I do not know, But I cannot put this book down…I don’t know why this fascinates me so much, nor do I understand why I am such an existentialist/transcendentalist person, but, back to reading I guess

Thoughts of a cynic

I have been looking at old photos of myself, and looking at how I changed, how I’ve grown, the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done, but I still wonder is there anything more to my life? I mean, I am an angry boy, I say boy, because I am nowhere near a man, sometimes people approach me and express to me how sad I look,and sometimes I feel incapable of being happy. I am harassed daily by some, but my cries for help are usually turned down, I Stay silent to not cause discomfort to others, I am a strange boy that it appears is meant to be misunderstood, while I am not suicidal, I wonder, If I died now, would I find a better place? A place where hope no longer exists and the limitations are now no longer applicable towards me? Sometimes I feel death will bring me my greatest salvation, sometimes I feel that I should die, today, even though it was a joke, I found myself saying “I lived a good life”, while this is for the most part true, is that it? Maybe my life is expired, maybe nothing more will come to me, why can’t I find peace and comfort in the little things? Why am I tortured with the philosophers mind? Why do I ask Why and What so much? I don’t want to die, but sometimes, I feel that in death I will be free, and maybe the afterlife would be better, I don’t know, but I want to live, I need to learn to handle what I see in the mirror, to finally stop planning every word I will say to see if it will be appreciated, to stop trying for attention, I wonder if I will find success in this world, I wonder peoples opinions of me, I wonder if life is worth it, death has always confused me, ah, no matter, I am not suicidal, obviously I will carry on, I just want to know if what I am doing is worth it. 

Thanks for listening to this Tumblr, you will read this when no one else will

Francis