Bloggin' about the same old same old

Remember, kids - I am blogging against my will!



TODAY, WE WILL DISCUSS DRUGS. YUMMY DRUGS! REMEMBER, KIDS, DON'T DO DRUGS! STAY IN SCHOOL...AND DO DRUGS. :)






It is not an addiction, but a necessity, to become the person on the inside who I contain within, and that can not be done alone, no sir or madam, it cannot. It is now mandatory to release this being, the cancer in my blood, the mentally unhealthy vision of myself, a true monstrosity among the of mankind and its critical outlook. We, Hyde and Jekyll, live as two but feed as one on my brain matter, brawling over control of the body. The potion has fabricated a parasitic organism, and I am its host, drained of freedom to choose my fate. The face of Mr. Hyde is burned, branded into the creases and wrinkles of the diaphanous original, where pain of continuity has aged me so. Should one want to live forever? As a man leading a star-crossed double life, one phase in which I am dead already, I am uncertain which road is safe. Despite this inevitable fate indicating loss in a near future, I must alternate to give myself rest, but soon, the drug will lead me into either a graceful angelic state in which I am saved from the curse of humanity, or the better deserved and more realistic banishment from where I already survive half-heartedly in exile. I take the solution in regularly to shift from one man to another. A ritual like this completes my life, rather the two sides of it I have. I do not sleep. I work by day as Dr. Jekyll, and when his time is done, Mr. Hyde releases himself from the tragic tugs and pulls of everyday life. Arbitrary in direction, with of a multiplicity of powers, they control who I am and conduct the stressors of my life, propelling me into a redundant reflective prospect of duality. Every day, I lead the same two lives, as they both continue in their pointless endeavors. Acceptance bleeds out of me and my blood boils down to solid deposits of curds, as it is not enough to appreciate who I am in my indigenous flesh. I have no home inside my own body. Completely and truly, I represent a heartless, soulless, mindless freak, but no one connects the dots between the personas. Perhaps that matter is for the best. Duality in a state loose of sanity is far below sacred. Is it that they are too foolish to understand, or are other men in the white-collar industry afraid to know the truth? Of me, the truth is simple. I am not one, but two. If I am a best friend to you, so is the grim Mr. Hyde whom you hate and fear. I feel a belonging in this mortal body's flesh encasing, but the true spirit and mind I hold has distinct halves. Juxtaposing the two, none is greater than the other, but the less fortunate twin does not hold the burdens endured throughout the daytime. My solitary desire is to make people understand, withstand and behold the disgrace that is my inner self, Mr. Hyde. He hides behind a curtain of grief, concealing his face in the light because what is seen as his face cannot be captured as beautiful, but in the darkness, there is nothing to hide. I grow dependent on this drug in a desperate hunger to feast when I famine, to make me become who I chose. It is involuntary to want this potion's aid now. I created it, yet it creates me and controls me so. A virulent concoction dictates my fate from the morning to twilight. The brew tastes so strong. It satisfies my need to be someone of the ground level of self-medication, but I also need this crutch like a drug. Habitual intake has become integral as to me is breathing in air, yet unlike breathing, the process isn't subconscious; I can perceive it. In harmony with breathing, I do it all the time - in my sleep, when I wake, and as long as my heart continues beating, I will alternate between these two indefinitely temporary forms. Duplicity like mine is vapid and void of enjoyment of the singular blisses in noncontiguous life.