The world is blank. Black. Eat, work, sleep, fuck, computer screen. Rinse and repeat. This is my reality. This is out reality. Yet these films, song, books tell us something else. Weltschmertz I have manage do diagnose myself with. The kind of feeling experienced by someone who understands that physical reality can never satisfy the demands of the mind. Like I have. I can't live in a world that is so cold. A world that constantly disappoint me because I have too high expectations on it. But I can't lower my expectations. And I can't co-exist with these expectations. That's why I have to go. And that's the reason I've had my finger on the off-switch my entire upbringing. I thought these feelings would go away. But for a while now I've known it's a part of my spots. I'm sitting with the old knife I bought in Greece when I was twelve. Good thing no one asked what it was for. I would like exit like Elliot Smith. I'm just building the strenght. Soon. I don't really know why I'm writing this. If nothing else this may be considered my last footprint.