My whole life is fake. Fake family. Fake online friends. Fake future. Fake past Fake everything. Fake. I’m a fake. I want to be a werewolf now and go howling into the night. Sleep under a bridge. Ravage some hobos. Give me the post apocalypse. Armed with weapons. What am I gonna do? Get a job sorting mail? Room attendant? Bag Boy? I’d rather be dead. I am spinning in a zero g room with nothing to stop the spin. No one either. Friends? Of what use? Fuck them. For now on people are as only good as their usefulness. I’m taking. I’m not giving. I hope this world is coming to a close. I can’t maintain this anger. I wish I were feral.These human characteristics are pointless on me. My psychiatrist is an idiot. No advice makes me feel better. I have to do something drastic. Or maybe I’ll take another chill pill. The world from my eyes is flat. Boring. The people are the same. The streets are the same. The sounds are all the same and too loud. What would I do with friends? Pretend to laugh at their jokes. I never feel as crippled and handicapped a person as I do now. Incapable of being that person at the table feeling fully a part of the company of others. Fucking little green man. Fucking android. Fucking fake smiles and no progress. Splatter the walls with my brains.