A Virtual Book

EXISTENCES
By: Dylan

Properties: This book cannot be opened by anyone except Dylan
(some supernatural force blocks common people from entering).

<<–VoDkA–>>
<<–Dylan–>>

3-31-97

Life-existence

EL THOUGHTZOS

Ah yes, this is me writing . . . just writing, nobody technically did anything, just I felt like throwing out my thoughts — this is a weird time, weird life, weird existence. As I sit here (partially drunk with a screwdriver) I think a lot. Think .. . think . . . that’s all my life is, just shitloads of thinking . . . all the time . . . my mind never stops . . . music runs 24/7 (except for sleep), just songs I hear, not necessarily good or bad, & thinking . . . about the asshole in gym class, how he worries me, about driving, & my family, about friends & doings with them, about girls I know (mainly & ) how I know I can never have them, yet I can still dream

I do shit to supposedly ‘cleanse’ myself in a spiritual, moral sort of way (deleting the wads1 on my computer, not getting drunk for periods of time, trying not to ridicule/make fun of people ( ) at school), yet it does nothing to help my life morally. My existence is shit to me — how I feel that I am in eternal suffering, in infinite directions in infinite realities. Yet these realities are fake — artificial, induced [?] by thought, how everything connects, yet its all so far apart.... & I sit & think ... science is the way to find solutions to everything, right? I still think that, yet I see different views of shit now — like the mind — yet if the mind is viewed scientifically ... hmm

I dwell in the past ... thinking of good & bad memories

A lot on the past though . . . I’ve always had a thing for the past — how it reacts to the present & the future — or rather vice versa. I wonder how/when I got so fucked up w my mind, existence, problem — when Dylan Benet2 Klebold got covered up by this entity containing Dylan’s body ... as I see the people at school — some good, some bad — I see how different I am (aren’t we all you’ll say) yet I’m on such a greater scale of difference than everyone else (as far as I know, or guess). I see jocks having fun, friends, women, LIVEZ.

Or rather shallow existences compared to mine (maybe) like ignorance = bliss. They don’t know beyond this world (how I do in my mind or in reality or in this existence) yet we each are lacking something that the other possesses — I lack the true human nature that Dylan owned & they lack the overdeveloped mind/imagination/knowledge too [?].

I don’t fit in here thinking of suicide gives me hope, that I’ll be in my place wherever I go after this life ... that I’ll finally not be at war with myself, the world, the universe — my mind, body, everywhere, everything at PEACE in me — my soul (existence). & the routine is still monotonous, go to school, be scared & nervous, hoping that people can accept me ... that I can accept them ... the NIN [Nine Inch Nails] song Piggy is good for thought writing ... The Lost Highway3 sounds like a movie about me . .. I’m gonna write later, bye <<–VoDkA–>>

<<–VoDkA–>>

4-15-97

poetry [?] my way

Da ThoughtZ Jeah

Well well, back at it, yes (you say) whoever the fuck ‘you’ is, but yea. My life is still fucked, in case you care . . . maybe, . . . (not?) I have just lost fuckin 45$, & before that I lost my zippo & knife (I did get those back) Why the fuck is he being such an ASSHOLE??? (god I guess, whoever is the being which controls shit). He’s fucking me over big time & it pisses me off. Oooh god I HATE my life, I want to die really bad right now — let’s see what I have that’s good: A nice family, a good house, food, a couple of good friends, & possessions. What’s bad — no girls (friends or girlfriends), no other friends except a few, nobody accepting me even though I want to be accepted, me doing badly & being intimidated in any & all sports, me looking weird & acting shy — BIG problem, me getting bad grades, having no ambition of life, that’s the big shit. Anyway ...

I was Mr. Cutter tonight — I have 11 depressioners on my right hand now, & my favorite contrasting symbol, because it is so true & means so much.4 The battle between good & bad never ends ... OK enough bitchin ... well I’m not done yet. OK go ... I don’t know why I do wrong with people (mainly women) — it’s like they are set out to hate & ignore me, I never know what to say or do. is soo fuckin lucky he has no idea how I suffer.

Okay here’s some poetry.... this is a display of one man [?] in search of answers, never finding them, yet in hopelessness understands things ...

Existence. . . . what a strange word. He set out by determination & curiosity, knows no existence, knows nothing relevant to himself. The petty declarations of others & everything on this world, in this world, he knows the answers to. Yet they have no purpose to him. He seeks knowledge of the unthinkable, of the undefineable, of the unknown. He explores the everything5 ... using his mind, the most powerful tool known to him. Not a physical barrier blocking the limits of exploration, time thru thought thru dimensions . . . the everything is his realm. Yet, the more he thinks, hoping to find answers to his questions, the more come up. Amazingly, the petty things mean much to him at this time, how he wants to be normal, not this transceiver of the everything. Then occurring to him, the answer. How everything is connected yet separate. By experiencing the petty others actions, reactions, emotions, doings, and thoughts, he gets a mental picture of what, in his mind, is a cycle.

Existence is a great hall, life is one of the rooms, death is passing thru the doors, & the everexistent compulsion of everything is the curiosity to keep moving down the hall, thru the doors, exploring rooms, down this never-ending hall. Questions make answers, answers conceive questions, and at long last he is content. TTYL <<–VoDkA–>>