(He Smashes The Bottle On The Ground)

Good morning! I'm sitting naked at my bureau wearing a pair of sunglasses alone in the dark while the window is open letting in the cold winter air. Yes I've realized I don;t need anyone but myself. SO far today I have had no human contact and yet I've seen someone suffer already. There's a poor fool with his head bent over a bowl in our vomitorium. How long has he been there? WHAT KIND OF MORON IS STILL DRUNK TO THE POINT OF VOMITING AT 2:27PM. Well, it is a Saturday after all. As I was saying. I already feel incredibly happy today and I don't seem to know why. I haven't heard any particularly good news yet and all I've been doing is prancing around naked while Etienne is away. Perhaps I won't eat today... I'm already halfway there and I'm not hungry! If Jews can do it SO CAN I. I'M AN IDIOT. FUCK THEM ALL TO HELL. It smells like burning hair in this room... oh yeah cause I was lighting my chest hair on fire... it actually feels quite nice. The thrill perhaps? I've been meaning to take a shower for a while now... But I don't think I smell too bad. DAMMIT THAT BURNT HAIR SMELLS! POOR DECISION CLAMENCE. I don't need anyone today. I think today I'll just watch. It's more fun that way. The you can't blame yourself for the mistakes of others. The mistakes of humanity. I am the third man. I am the judge-penitent. And as far as I know, I haven't ever met an authentic human being my entire life. Including myself. YOU CAN'T LIE IN COURT. Today is a day of JUDGEMENT!

Confession

It is true I have finally confessed. And gained nothing in the process. The water was up to my knees and all I could taste was the salt in the air. This is a cry for help. YES. HELP. ANYBODY? Anybody? ... anybody? Pain hurts worse when it isn't inflicted intentionally. A wound unnoticed can fester and corrupt. I had to cut off the rotting flesh. And while I am now healthy, I have lost a part of myself. I am rejected for my handicap. I am different. I AM WEAK! Go ahead, make me cry. I'd like to see you try. I feel like my life will end too soon. I'm too old for my age. I want compassion and understanding. I want to feel loved. I want to feel useful and wanted. I want to be a part of the machine. But most of the time, here I am: the lonely cog. Somehow it seems unavoidable that I will die before the age of 30. I have seen it in dreams. I will achieve my goals but will not live to reap their benefits. Perhaps I will finally write something worth reading and then be hit by a train. Maybe I will give a meritorious performance like no one has ever seen and then have the stage set aflame. Doesn't life always do that? One cannot be great without being late. For me to be great I must employ death. To achieve notoriety it is enough, after all, to kill one's concierge. I am no longer able to endure anonymity. I love the human race too much to focus all of my emotion on one person. HOW IDIOTIC MOST PEOPLE ARE! WHAT WILL YOUR LIFE MEAN AFTER YOU'VE FUCKED EVERYONE YOU'VE WANTED AND MADE ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY YOURSELF DIAMONDS, CARS, MANSIONS, AND FURS! I am a man of the mesas. I cannot stand to live so low as to spend so much time thinking about one person when there is a world of inspiration to hold dear. A world that needs change. I will be that change. I refuse to submit to a life of sucking off anyone I find attractive. I REFUSE to be a part of something so disgustingly mortal. It's been done time and time again. PRIORITIZE. There are bigger things at hand. Life is a game and the goal is not to get the most points. The goal is to change the rules of the game.