Time does not exist, it is but a concept conceived by the mind of humans to make us feel as though we are not so insignificant. We are not important, we are not here to do anything and so we give ourselves purpose by trying to figure out why we are here. Giving ourselves purpose by creating a God that is omnipotent and transcendent to make belief we are protected when we are not.

Nothing you do in life is important unless you believe it is

I feel sick in the stomach, I feel weak and depleted of emotional and physical energy. Everything seems so tasteless perceptually, I've lost all will to try. I have talents but lack the will and motivation to use them and I don't know why. The only thing I really enjoy is listening to instrumental and angry music. I don't know why that is either, I don't really know why I like anything; is it because it is perceptually appealing? Because it sends electric impulses to my brain telling me I should like it? Because I've been conditioned through my upbringing to enjoy certain things but dislike others?

Would we know right from wrong (if there is such a thing) if we were completely untainted with another persons thoughts, morals and beliefs?

"I have fought on a battlefield of friendly soldiers and in trenches of enemy bases. I have flown futuristic helicopters over oceans to distant islands. I have controlled masses of armies and won battles and wars. I have sword played with a samurai master and won with no injury. I have rocked out on stage in front of a thousand people with my pimped out guitar and drum kit.

I have found treasures and followed maps to uncharted worlds and discovered new people. I have been featured on the cover of Thrashed magazine and won multiple skating tournaments. I have picked up prostitutes, fallen in love, gambled and been involved in various criminal activities. I have raced around the streets of Tokyo in expensive cars and won drag races and trick events.

I have assassinated countless historical icons while still remaining undetected. I have battled with a sword, a key, a wrench, a light saber and with my bare hands. I have rescued many damsels and fought many people. I have knocked giant structures down, and became an Indian warrior. I have been rich and poor, been strong and weak, been marginalized and prioritized, been tortured and teased and been killed and loved. How you ask? I’m a gamer."

- Jonathan Burns, 26th of January 2010

This epitomizes my love of video games as they engulf me into a world of adventure where you're actually fighting for something other than yourself, something other than the daily routine of working and studying.

I JUST WANT THIS

My conscious will be the end of me

I really hate my attempts at photography, please look at these instead:

http://www.chrissearl.com/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/timregard/
http://www.rachelaust.com
http://badenwest.tumblr.com/

Wake up, bathroom, coffee, iMac, Xbox, work, skate, photograph, eat, sleep.
This cycle will break me, eat away at my common sense and motivation to get anywhere in life but I have no will power to change my current habits. What can you do when the only person to convince is yourself and yet they are the most stubborn of all?

PLEASE WAKE THE FUCK UP.

And yet I thought I knew myself, even after 17 years of existence I still do not understand how or why my mind works the way it does. Why I feel a certain way because of external and internal influences, why my emotions rise and fall as a sun does.

I don't know who I am going to be where I am going and life still does not seem to have purpose yet, the will to live is still on a balanced scale tipped uncontrollably. What is the point to existing? What is the ultimate goal but if not to please ourselves? To be selfish, to be selfish in benefiting others.

Centuries of knowledge still do not have the wisdom to answer the simplest of questions.

I WANT

OUT, IT'S BRINGING THE WORST OUT IN ME, THE DEPRESSION HAS COME BACK

I

I want out, I want out of this fucking place,
There's nothing left to salvage nothing left to converse,
And when it leaves there is no hope of return,
No hope of salvation to rid this affliction.

This was meant to change everything, bring a new age;
A change of guard and a change of heart.
A renewed bond but physicality reigns.

Is this what I really want, is this making me content?
Is this what it's meant to be, is this is what to become of me?

I hate what I've become, I hate what I've become
Open my eyes and show me what it really means.

This is the end of everything.

OVER

IT

I HATE

MYSELF

NAMELESS STREETS

As a kid the summers seemed so long.
The dusk a never ending song.
Too much, too young. He'd never hear it again.

A walk through the dismal streets, the alleys where the junkies sleep.
Too much, too young.
"That will never be me."
Slow, hand in hand to the boardwalk's end.
His mother's words like the biting wind. "please don't leave me." He'll never hear them again.

"Keep quiet, stay out of sight."
Her sunken eyes that used to burn so bright. "Please don't leave me."
So he hid pressed against the wall, under stairs in the darkened hall.

The sound of heartbreak reminded him of home.

Shadows move slow across the floor, a minute seemed like a day or more.

The end of heartache when she opened the door.

the sights, sounds, smell of burnt out shame, pride, spite and love.
They all come here to die.
He sobs, "please take me a away. Please Mother bring us home safe on nameless streets the way we came."

Suddenly she prayed for better days and for redemption.
Sullenly she prayed to keep from harm's way and for conviction.
But there's no forgiveness here.
No hope beyond that pier.
No way to get out now, not for her in this dead end town.

And that drunk is waiting up, him and jack and the empty cup.
"Where you been? what you on? who'd you fuck?" One more drink to toast "good luck".

She gets a stiff hand from the old like the bourbon he's been drinking.

Black out.