Let me invite you for a brief incursion into another troubled mind. I am known under the mortal name Samantha. I am very proud of my mortal name and my body is aged of two decades and a year is another thing I am proud of. However, I feel much older. Years passed me by and I found myself progressively trapped within my perspectives. I am permanently disabled by a serious Xistential denial but since I only have to accept what I am aware of, I will not change anything about the beauty I managed to create in my own dimension.

It seems obvious to me now that I was meant to evolve in constant mental torture. I try to enjoy human contacts the best I can but I am quite withdrawn from society and.. I like it that way. Reserved and quiet as a group reaches the number of three, I am forever lost inside my head. This more or less voluntary attitude can often let believe that I got nothing to say. But actually, I speak when I DO have an opinion to share. One on one though, the conversation is more eased for me. Then it becomes less difficult to learn more.

I wish to remain a spectator rather than an actor in this wicked play. Passive is a word that describes me well. But I stand for who I am, what I chose to be as well as my convictions. Nobody else than myself will ever bring me to the ground. I am much disgusted by what I witness daily. A cancer propagating on a wide scale in the form of blind insects going by, taking their lives for granted when they can be taken away any second. Oh how I Xperience more every day powerful desires of mass murder.. Cruel men and women thinking they are the fucking center of the universe because they got a conscience (?) when in reality, they are nothing at all.

While wandering the corridors of emptiness, a tiny hope burned inside of me that I could ever meet someone out there who could give me the vague impression of being whole again. A man who could help me with his love to make abstraction of the very source of my sadness and anger, which is not BEING and still fucking stuck in the illusion. This state of mind I am in is my slow death but I know that I need it to keep on going. With that being said, I don't really need (nor want) to be understood. Only sincerely loved for everything I am and am not. The enemy within myself who wants me dead is temporarily defeated because of someone I hold in high esteem. I will be forever grateful to him. And lately, my whole being has set on fire for a young man and I think that I will hardly be able to be kept away from him for too long.

The exit door has been truly tempting to go through many times.. But my great sense of humor has been and still is my perfect cure. For myself and for worthy enough ones to my eyes in need. Life in its black core is an incredibly elaborated hoax to me, so why not always making fun of everything and nothing? And here are some aspects of this non-sense that I quite enjoy, which keep me here in sweet masochism along with my many dreams. Where I don't belong after all..