Thoughts Written

Human Lost

I am no longer sad. It astounds me how my mentality worked out the sadness gradually. Now it's just a thought, the depression.
  In March, I had a meltdown in my bedroom. The monster of selfharm clawed and clawed at my skin until my whole arm was covered in red. Crimson. Blood. The monster was laughing in joy at my suffering. At the bleak outlook I had on life and it pounced on it. The monster had a favorite color. Crimson, only achievable by clawing out the inside of a human.
  After that melt down I felt the demons in my head slowly slip out through my ears, eyes, and mouth. They got their fill of seeing the crimson destruction happening on my arm. They enjoyed that red blood covering the entirety of my arm. They are hibernating now, preparing to destroy my existence in the near future. They think of the most gory and violent plan they can muster and save it for a future date.
   When I was at work, I saw the most innocent and adorable girl who works here, pale as snow, write about the future of humans. How she knows that everything in life is pointless and we will all turn into dust anyways. It scares me to think every human other than I, is not completely ignorant to what the world conjures up. It scares me that people fear the world around us. It gives me this irrational notion that I cannot possibly love a world of destruction. I can't love myself, as a temple of destruction. I can't love anyone else, as I am not the ideal person for love. I am an idol of hate.