Conceptual Happiness.

It irks me that everything we do or see is a concept. 

It's human nature to take something they feel and put words or reason to it. Music, art, poetry, all do this.

Don't get me wrong, I love music, I love poetry. It's just that it creates an expectation for the feeling it describes.

You get to the point where you look for the concept rather than the actual emotion.

I want, in my mind, to separate the concept from what it is to actually feel something. I want to look at someone and not think "Wow, I love her."

I want to look at her and feel it. 

I think that's what I've been missing.

Make it real. Make it beautiful.

I just can't be happy where I am. 

I'm alone, so I want to be with people. 

I'm with people, and I just want to be alone. 

Had I done the best I could with my life, I think everything would be different. 

Looking at the sky wouldn't be so depressing. 

Seeing a beautiful girl wouldn't be so foreboding. 

I want to write a novel. 

Finish a song.

Film a movie.

Something.

Anything.

Anything to make it so that, even though I ruined everything I wanted, I can still do something.

I can still make something new. 

Make a little piece of reality that makes everything just a little better. 

Beauty is anything. Beauty is creation.

I want to make beauty.

Not just stare at it, longing for just a touch.

I want this.

Regret.

Why am I an asshole?

I get it, I don't love them. 

But, dammit, why couldn't I still be nice to them? I could have been a friend, couldn't I?

I just read about how much I've hurt one of them. She was so alone, and I couldn't even say "hi."

Am I really so selfish?

I had an excuse. They're better without me. I won't make any mistakes this way. I can't make it worse. 

But, you lazy fucking piece of shit, you could have made it better. You could have helped. You could have been a decent human being.

You ruin everything.

You... asshole.

Jihad is not what God would want.

It's pretty easy to understand why people have religion. It provides an explanation for our existence, it gives a sense of purpose, comforts us when we are facing death. It can be used to teach children morals as well. 

I'm jealous of people that believe in God. I really wish I could convince myself that He exists. 

I have this sneaking suspicion that most religions originated as children's stories. I think a few people just decided to take these stories a little too seriously, and convince many to do the same. 

Instead of being a story for good morals, God became a justification for murder and war. 

I couldn't be the Pope and still sleep at night, knowing everything I stand for is another's justification to kill thousands. 

Although, I'll admit it's not like these people that use this "In the name of God!" justification actually take any of it seriously. It pretty much becomes a tool for their own ends. 

There are truly noble people who believe in God. If these people were the only ones that claimed to believe in Him (which, essentially, they're the only ones that actually do,) I wouldn't have any of the cynicism that I show towards the whole thing. 

I didn't really intend an attack on religion with this post. 

I just don't believe there can be a God if the people that "follow" His word think killing is what He wants. 

He would stop it.

i hate blogs.

I'm not really the kind of person who has ever really committed himself to a journal. I also think that 90% of the people that have a blog are at least partial idiots. 

I guess I belong in that idiot category.  

So, what? Shall I introduce myself or something?

Hi. I'm Philote. No, that is not my legal name. I'm not entirely sure why I don't feel like using my legal name, but I've decided not to nonetheless. 

I hate myself most of the time.

I was one of those kids that should have gotten to high school years early, graduated at the top, and gone on to make millions doing some extremely intelligent thing that very few would ever care about. I was the smart kid. I gave up. I lost my ambition.

Sometimes I blame my family, sometimes I think I'm depressed. Mostly, I just blame myself. 

I rarely show emotion anymore. I feel less and less human every day. I have a couple friendships that now mean very little more than the occasional enjoyment of each other's company. 

I've had what is commonly viewed as a broken heart a total of 2 times. 

Sometimes I blame the broken heart for my emotionless, unmotivated existence. But if I think back, it was long before that where I started not caring. My "broken hearts" are merely catalysts that sped up an already progressing disease.

Sometimes I doubt that I was even in love at all. 

Why can't I feel anything?

Am I even alive?

I am an empty shell.