I don't do anything to be happy.
I do things that will make my heart beat.
I want panic and anxiety to rush my body.
I'll do anything to feel alive.
Evil things. Self destructive things.
I don't mind if I don't smile.
I just want to feel.
I don't feel like myself.
So whatever I may do is without regard to who I am.
My actions are separate from my self.
They are different people.
I am a nation of lust, violence and cruelty.
Parts of me will tease and taunt you. Like a glittery fishing lure on the lush lake surface.
I hide my hooks and snare them like guppies then leave them to choke on the sandy shores.
I'll take them from their homes. I won't think twice.
And I'll feed on the prey that's already been slain.
It's not delightful. It's never pleasant.
But it makes my heart beat fast. It turns my blood black.
I don't really want you. I just want your bones.
I want electric pulses in my heart.
I act to put action through my ventricles.
I used to only behave in ways that would guarantee my happiness.
Will this make me happy? Could this result in sadness?
If it won't make me happy, what's the point?
I don't ask these questions anymore.
Because there is no point.
Happiness doesn't last and it never stays.
Let it go.
Will this scare me? Could this be a completely devilish thing to do?
I ask this. And I act on these answers.
Because right now I see, I feel happy when I feel a heart attack.
Cardiac arrhythmia. My life revolves around rhythm.
Rhythm and control.
An equation for harmony.
I don't want to be happy.
I want to be harmonious.
I don't want to exist.
I want to be.