Tuesday, 14 May 2013

Failed school assignments

High school is around 4 years behind me now but I still carry my first flash drive which holds essays I thought were of good quality for a pass in English comms class, though a certain south African teacher that didn't understand the difference between woman and women, disagreed and continued to fail me until i was put in time out for an entire term......


I want to share some assignments, articles and essays that I put a lot of time into and really pained me when I failed. After my term spent in time-out I had no guidance in my plot or any part of an essay so possibly it is my fault after all I'm just a failure. 
Sorry now I'm having a breakdown trying to retype everything because I've confused myself too much. I need to step away from the below stressors and allow 
Yourself to try....... 

I welcome you to read them, to help me understand. 

Hopefully I am making sense now or else will update again 

Peace, Sarah-Kate 

.  Please read and if any comments please I would appreciate any. Not begging lol 

Stories, notes and poems included to give insight as to personality and thoughts that are consuming beyond day dreaming. There are more written that have not been included, these are just interesting pieces found on a flash drive; like a diary found in a forgotten library. The way the mind of a Borderline you would have figured out by now is confusing. These are scriptures before diagnosis; confronting thoughts of a confused teenager trying to make sense of the world.


It was strange, the way the bird flew around in the air, squawking at nothing. Damn Seagulls, I thought. I watched carefully. The bird was alone headed away from the sun continuously squawking at nothing. No wonder people shot them.

Back in the day birds in cages, canaries I think were taken into the mines, and at the smell of any dangerous gasses or toxins the bird would either make a noise or die instantly. As far as I know the system worked well for humans but not so good for the birds.

By the ay the bird flew I thought was not aimlessly, but from something. To warn other birds or make a good target for a rock or bullet?

Sunset was coming over the head of the hills and as I took one good look at the sun set glistening against the sky setting rays of sickening orange and red  in continual endless patterns.


The walk home ended in silence and darkness. Not a sound was made to be heard.

When I walked through the front door, my mother didn’t look up at me, as usual. I can’t say I expected her to but every now and again it would be nice to be welcomed home from school. Instead my mother just sat there by the television, glass of scotch in hand, cigarette in the other waiting for Dad to come through the door perhaps. Even I knew he was not coming home, but Mum refused to accept or even hear the words. I admire her for that, still holding onto something so lost that is beyond ever going to happen.


To my room I quickly venture, drop my bag have a shower and head to the kitchen. Mum is still in the same seat, the glass of scotch slightly lower, if I make too much noise she will yell at me, maybe hit me.

I make my usual sandwich, eat at the table; though mum is at lost I still believe to uphold household manners.

After my meal I pass through the room she is constantly sitting in and make my way to bed. That is our daily, ‘on the clock’ routine, it does not differ.



When I woke up this morning, I was unaware of how the day was going to end.  This day was a very important day for me, in two aspects. 

Today, I woke up hoping to fulfil my dreams. When in the end, I became one.

The second I woke up, I immediately knew what day it was. It was Saturday, the last day of the week and the only day I had been planning for months.

I was diagnosed with terminal leukaemia almost a year ago, shortly after my Father died of the same disease. It was only as of his death that my family and I were tested. Out of my four siblings, only I was diagnosed. The disease is not even considered hereditary and yet I managed to develop it.

I blame no one.

My mother was broken by this fact, she blames herself. As if losing my father wasn’t enough for her, as a month later, she was told she was going to lose me.

As of that fatal day, my mother has practically ignored my siblings and devoted her time into helping me complete my dream to win a beauty pageant. The dream sounds stupid, I agree. It is all I have wanted in life as long as I can remember. Now, barely sixteen, it is all I can think about.

Months, my Mother and I spent ages searching for dresses, perfecting hair style and practising talents. I hadn’t had to worry about school; I felt more a burden to my ‘class-mates’ than anything. 

My brothers and sister sat in the back of the car for the three hour drive to the location of the pageant. It was in the Grand hall, far west of the city, almost at the ocean.

I had never been there before and the moments I spent there today were assuredly not wasted.

From the car into my dress, I felt like a princess. Although my bones were frail and my skin ghostly pale, I felt almost unique. My dress was sky blue layered with further blue frills to the ground, rounding off at the knees, so it was possible to witness my shiny silver brand new stilettos. I had refused to cut my hair from the day I was diagnosed. Now, reaching my lower back, I wore my dark hair in lose curls, falling all around my body. Carefully topped off, with a small silver hair piece, to add the ‘princess look’.

 When I looked in the mirror I really felt ‘pretty’. A lot different to how I feel now, lying in my hospital bed, my death bed; with my previous day, flashing through my eyes.

I was crowned - having won talent section by painting and runners up position as presentation. My painting was of ‘Joan of Arc’ acting in a war scene. Joan of Arc was my hero, burned to death hundreds of years ago as a witch, I find her inspirational for all women. Ironically I was named after her. My painting was found motivating and creative to the audience and judges. I dedicated the painting to my Father, the one who taught me to paint and the one who I had inherited my artistic strive from. “Oh, The irony” would be his exact words.

A proper crown was placed on my head, as queen for the painting, and a sash over my shoulder. The standing ovation had made me shudder. Off stage, I became over-whelmed when I collapsed into a state I was not to recover from.

My last views were of the Pageants audience, the hospital doors and my mother’s blotchy red face.

My organs are now shutting down, as I fail to move, lying with my eyes shut. I am a prisoner to my body; the pain is immense as no matter what I do, I can’t release a movement or word. I can feel my Mother’s hand in mine, squeezing constantly. I want to thank her for all she has done for me, or just to squeeze back. She is talking to me slowly and calmly, though I cannot speak back. It’s as if I am being burned at the stake like ‘Joan of Arc’, nobody cares for screams she let out, or the screaming in my head. What and all that is heard, is acknowledged, as the day past: the day just lived.

My mother has said it is okay to leave her; she will meet me again one day. I’m not sure if my brothers and sister are in the room. All I can hear are the last words spoken to me on Earth by my Mother, “Goodnight, my love, my beauty queen’.




It is with great sorrow we are seated in this church today. We have lost a member of society, a friend, a brother and a son. Spencer was all these things and he cherished every moment.

It is a tragedy to lose such a young person who had so much to live for.

Spencer will always remain in our thoughts and hearts, for who he was and the role he played in each of our lives can never be forgotten.


Spencer was our only child and I will never forget the day I gave birth to him. It was a stormy night and the rain pelted down. I was already eight days overdue before I went into labour in the middle of this night. My husband Liam drove me straight to the hospital, we were so afraid we were not going to make it in time as there was trees covering more than half the roads. Once we made it to the hospital, the doctors were concerned there would be a blackout, adding to my anxiety. That night I gave birth to my first son, Spencer Cain Kenneth. He was the only baby in our town born under Hurricane Luke, and led to him being affectionately known as Hurricane Spencer.


From the time Spencer was a child, he had an affinity with dogs. He would spend hours attempting to teach our neighbour’s dog Suey various tricks. I will never forget the smile on Spencer’s face the day we brought home Hanky. It was our first night with the puppy home and he was spending it in the laundry. Throughout the night the scatter of paws could be heard on the tiles but, strangely, no barking. No one, not even Spencer, was allowed to tend to the dog throughout the night to allow him to settle. The following day, the laundry door was opened to find our puppy all curled up in broken tissues. Hanky had spent the entire night chewing through the tissue box stash making himself comfortable. It amused Spencer to then name the new puppy Hanky. Hanky, though old, is still alive today and lonely wanders the house in search of his best friend.


I have to say that Spencer’s teenage years were as big a challenge as was his birth. Liam and I, together with his teachers, were amazed at how far Hurricane Spencer got, despite all the time he spent escaping from the school grounds. He was not afraid to try new things. We always told him if he put in as much time as he did into escaping he could go far in life. Spencer did not want to go ‘far’, he wanted to live life. For every test he failed he would say ‘I had better things to do’. For every test he passed he would say ‘I needed that’. Spencer had a plan- despite his rebellious ways he made that plan work for him.

Spencer successfully completed high school and was accepted into university to study veterinary science. This was a shock for all of us. “It’s all part of the plan” was all Spencer said after he got accepted.


The most amazing things about Spencer were his core values of courage, dignity, fun and hope. He never let anything or anyone stand in his way. He never let teachers, parents or even friends tell him how to live his life. He never took no for an answer. The words ‘no’, ‘impossible’ and ‘limitations’ were not part of his vocabulary. Spencer lived by the words of John F. Kennedy “Things do not happen. Things are made to happen.”

No one could comprehend or begin to understand the plan Spencer had. Our son knew what he wanted and only he could make that happen. It was a hurricane every time he came through the door. A hurricane we will forever miss.


It is a tragedy for this young life to be cut short when it seemed to have only just begun. It is unlikely for a child with autism to become independent and achieve a successful career. He did so well after being challenged in this way defying the odds. I believe Spencer would have no regrets for the way he lived his life and that he would not want us to mourn him for long. He would not want us to let his passing prevent us from living our lives. Let Spencer always be in our thoughts and hearts. Let us leave today not sad, but filled with hope.


Spencer would want us to walk away from here and not let another day pass without learning or trying something new. The next time you are asked to go somewhere, to try something, or to have a go, instead of saying no, say yes, for Spencer and experience the joy of living.


“If nothing is ventured, nothing is gained” -words of Spencer Cain Kenneth.


To what extent does the film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately portray the events of Holocaust?

The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ identifies and portrays events of the Holocaust to a heart-wrenching extent. Sophie is a Holocaust survivor who was sent to Auschwitz with her children.  Sophie’s survival of the Holocaust was possible because of her Aryan features, fluent German and jobs she worked when interned. Sophie is heart-broken and forever haunted by the choices she made throughout the war affecting the loss of her children, to which influences the title of the film.

The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately portrays situations and devastation in Auschwitz during the Holocaust to the extent of Sophie working for a high ranked officer. Auschwitz was the major crematorium camp of Nazi Germany. The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ shows Sophie’s journey to and arrival of Auschwitz. The film shows no evidence of escaping fate of Auschwitz for any person sent there. The unfortunate mistake of Sophie’s arrest leaves her in Auschwitz despite the position of her Nazi Father and her Catholic beliefs. A brief tour of a part of Auschwitz is given as Sophie is walked past blocks of cells before brought into the house of an officer.  The officer, Rudolf Höss, portrayed in ‘Sophie’s Choice’ is historically accurate as being a Nazi officer. ‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately portrays events of the Holocaust occurring at the existing Auschwitz and from the devastation and confusion she experiences upon her arrival at the camp to the distressing extent of Sophie witnessing the prisoners left in cells with no water or food for days before being murdered in the gas chambers.

Survival of World War two and Auschwitz during the Holocaust is portrayed to the extent of Sophie given the tragic choice of choosing between her two children.  Survival during the Holocaust was dim for those as prisoners in camps. Life or death of one person came down to a Nazis decision of who would live and who would die. On arrival of Auschwitz, Sophie is lined up straight off the train with her two children Jan and Ava, whilst a Nazi officer stops to comment on Sophie’s beauty and Aryan features. Sophie then pleads she is a Catholic and her arrest was a mistake. Her pleas are useless as the officer mocks her faith and because of her outburst states “You may keep one child”. Sophie is shocked by this and cannot believe the situation. “I cannot choose! I cannot choose!” she cries in German to the officer continuously. Her efforts are worthless as in the moment the officer says “Both will then die”. As the officer reaches to take both children from Sophie, she panics and makes the ultimate decision of giving up her “Little girl”, Ava. Ava is then taken away to a crematorium, leaving Sophie in distress of her daughter’s death. Sophie is never to see her son again after the selection at the end of the line from the trains and is unaware of his survival or death.  Sophie was lucky enough to be healthy to work as a secretary for two days in a Nazi house, supplying her with food, water, a shower and shelter for survival. Sophie’s existing qualities of secretarial skills, Aryan features and fluent German made her capable of the job in the Nazi office. On acquaintance to the Nazi officer, Sophie tries to convince him of her mistaken arrest and asks for him to investigate if her son is alive as he would be the perfect candidate for the ‘Lebensborn program’. Sophie’s choice portrays events of the Holocaust by Aryan features, German language skills and secretarial skills being key advantages for survival during the Holocaust; this is accurately portrayed to the devastating extent of both Sophie and the Nazi officer choosing what child to die.

‘Sophie’s Choice’ accurately portrays to a dramatic extent the cruel deaths and losses occurring throughout the Holocaust. After the emotional loss of Sophie’s daughter Ava and the unknown whereabouts of her son Jan; Sophie is left with no children. Sophie’s Father, a Nazi sympathizer and co-creator of the ‘Final Solution’ was unlawfully shot dead by the Gestapo.  Sophie’s husband Josef, who was an associate of her Father at the University where they worked, was also shot dead by the Gestapo. Sophie’s entire family was killed, leaving her with no one.  During the flashbacks of Sophie’s time at Auschwitz, death is shown by people being randomly selected from the selection lines, shot on the spot and chosen to die in the gas chambers. No mercy is shown by Nazis for example the response of Rob Höss’s wife, once witnessing Sophie standing in her kitchen, her comment of “The children are in perfect health”, implying Sophie’s ‘Jewish blood’ is lethal; this response is relevant historically to how the Jews were portrayed as something ‘unnatural’ and ‘infectious’. The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ portrays events of unlawful deaths throughout the Holocaust accurately to the extent  of  demonstrating, despite Sophie’s Father and husband being Nazi supporters, were still killed by the historically existing Gestapo. 

The post war aftershock Jews felt is portrayed throughout ‘Sophie’s Choice’ to the tearful extent of her passionate suicide. The emotional affect left on Sophie from the Holocaust leaves her vulnerable and welcoming of her new spouse Nathan; who she praises for ‘saving her life’. Sophie devotes the remainder of her life to Nathan who is a Jew “obsessed with the Nazis escaping justice”. Sophie does not show any interest in sharing her past with Nathan therefore consumes herself with his presence despite her unawareness of Nathan being a paranoid schizophrenic. Sophie is taunted and afraid of claims that she is unworthy of living because of her past choice between her children. Sophie finds comfort in the poem by Emily Dickinson ‘Ample make this bed’; which ironically is how Sophie first came into contact with Nathan.  The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ portrays the aftershock victims of the Holocaust felt accurately by the vulnerable bond formed between Sophie and Nathan, having created their own little world in which they live.

The film ‘Sophie’s Choice’ successfully identifies and portrays events of the Holocaust to a deeply emotional extent. Sophie’s journey tells us keys to her survival of the Holocaust in Auschwitz; how she was faced with the unthinkable decision of choosing between her only children; the hope she held of her sons survival into the ‘Lebensborn program’; the pain and guilt in the aftershock she felt from her decision and the known fact of the death of her entire family; leaving her to immigrate to America where she rebuilt her life around Nathan. Questions are posed as to what if Sophie had never met Stingo? Whether Sophie would not have been convinced of the death she felt she deserved, or having continued to live, hiding her past by embracing Nathan, if she had never met and confided in Stingo; who was the prime cause of the confusion of an affair between Stingo and Sophie which lead to Nathan’s schizophrenic outburst influencing the passionate suicide Sophie and Nathan then commit. Stingo is of no portraying relevance to the Holocaust, as are Sophie and Nathan fictional characters. ‘Sophie’s Choice’ is a likely example of a devastating occurrence during the Holocaust.

Word Count: 1,190                                                                                            Written By Sarah Copeland.




The novel ‘Sophie’s Choice’ by William Styron, Published 1979


Internet Movie Data Base, IMBD, dates viewed – 22nd May 2010, 7th June 2010, last updated- 31st March 2010, < http://www.imbd.com/title/tt0084707/ >


Answers Corp, AC, Melodie Monahan, Critical Essay on Sophie’s Choice, Thomson Gale, date viewed- 7th June 2010, last updated- 2006 < http://www.answers.com/topic/Sophie-s-choice-criticism/ >



It is hard to explain exactly what I am thinking right now. I have a full time job that pays poorly. I am 18 years of age. I did not finish school. I have no other recognisable qualifications. I have a family I cannot feel for. I do not make time to spend in other people lives. I think the only reason I stay at my work is because I like the people I work with. The people I work with share the disrespect of customers and it’s amusing to talk about them as they leave the store.

It would be a waste of time to think about leaving this town because honestly I never will. I do not know anything else, I would have a different style of life to now and in a way too different that things may feel worse because then both places I could go to have negatives. I was always told I could do anything I like. I do believe that and I believe it is possible for everyone willing to try, hence my problem on not wanting to try. My reasoning for not wanting to try is nothing simpler then the fact I would eventually return in the same mind set and position I am in now, which makes me wonder is that all life is? Life just goes around in circles, but when does it end? What if we die? For example if we go around in circles we would come back a new, when you really think about it that is a contradicting statement towards life as it is not a game, you cannot just hit game over and expect to come back. But what does happen? Anything you want to believe. I respect other religions and anyone’s personal beliefs though I was brought up a Christian and I believe in heaven and in hell, in God’s judgement and his punishment. I believe I deserve to go to hell, so why delay my eternity there? You are probably thinking what one girl could do in 18 years that is so bad she deserves an eternity in hell. It’s simple, I sin, the same as majority of those who have already left this earth.

I need to stop rambling in thought as it is a constant waste of my time because there is no way I can record all my thoughts in a way someone will understand. God understands and I can understand why he would not forgive me. Sometimes I wonder if he put me in this position to do this act, obviously he did. I have already done so much I do not wish to do anymore.

I only want to die. That is what I want to do in life is die. I cannot see anything else. I want all trace of my existence erased. My parents only ‘love’ me because they help create this mess and have invested all this time and effort, what a waste it would be to see it go to waste, but what is worse? Living a waste of a life like this and dying anyway or getting it over and done with now.

I am not a good person. The way my mind works uncontrollably, it will never amount to anything of real worth. I have already decided against the purpose of having a child. No child deserves to have my genes and have the chance of inheriting this, or anything like this.

I cannot feel anything. I knew it was bad when I could no longer read a single page of a book without my might wondering off onto something compete irrelevant.

So why do I feel nothing? Numb. Psychically I do not react emotionally leading to the constant want of trying to harm myself, through hunger, blood and pain. Are the bruises all I’m worth? Will the scars ever fully heal? I thought God wanted me to die young. I had it all planned several times. I get the idea and then I can’t think of anything else. The thoughts completely consume me like a coin in a wheat silo. If I was to die young how come everything I do doesn’t seem to work or to follow through? 5 stitches, deep enough that fat was exposed but no main vein. Paracetamol more than my weight, plus added toxins of alcohol and all I did was sleep. It’s impossible. It is also impossible to have no feeling and yet, here I am.

It is like when someone dies. You have a funeral and say your good byes blah blah blah, and close the book. What the fuck. Just because they have died doesn’t mean that’s the end. That is stupid. The human race is a stupid race. We are all immature, stupid, cheated and sinful. Not a race sorry, because we have already established this is not a game. Why do we need closure? Closure doesn’t erase the fact they were always there, that that person existed and played some kind of roll in your life. Their life is gone, so why are they from yours? You say goodbye. You say goodbye when someone leaves. Well, they already left for wherever they were going and they didn’t say goodbye. So fuck them. They are gone from now but not from forever. Like if you dropped your favourite piece of jewellery in the deepest part of the ocean, there is no point jumping in, no point getting upset because either way you will not get it back, it was an event that happened and now it’s over and your left behind. So after this funeral, what, everyone is just fine and dandy? No one discusses their thoughts afraid of what emotions they may awaken in someone else. Why do those emotions erupt though? They erupt and do nothing, achieve didly squat but pain. Why are pain and emotion so hand in hand? Why do I question everything continuously without answer?

After a cry and a public display of emotion, it’s supposedly and expectedly out of your system and you move on to the burial. Why do we bother burying bones? Again, we are wasting are stupid time. That person is already gone and doing this will do nothing but erupt further emotions. The bones will soon disintegrate to nothing and their skin, organs and once living limbs will be eaten by worms and rot and mould to nothing. And now a place set literally in stone is permanently in the ground for you to go and release your emotions. When you want to remember and respect that person you go to that stone cold quiet site. When all it does is bring you pain, you can’t lift them out the ground because it is just reminding you how they’re not even there, sure something they once wore or maybe had some kind of possession. Wouldn’t you be better with that possession or if you could give it to someone who may appreciate it because really burying it in the ground does no one any good. The person is dead and not where you think you buried them and now you morn their possessions. How do you even know their ‘body’ was even in the coffin? How do you know the grave isn’t miss labelled? How do you know when you send someone away to be cremated they are actually cremated and you’re not sent dirt or wood ash? What difference does it make if they did send you dirt? None, it would certainly benefit the cremation company and the coffin building companies and they could save money as it wouldn’t be necessary for people to be around so much and care for them. What a job though, burning people for a living, just like Hitler. My point being all the people that would ultimately benefit are the ones who had no relation or connection to the deceased. You send the relatives of the deceased the dirt in a cup, completely oblivious to the fact it’s dirt because they don’t understand the truth, they don’t know to expect it, they go through all the grieving emotion as the human mind does. It’s like religion, people won’t believe because they don’t have ‘proof’. How do you have proof they burned your relative and your holding their ashes? How do you have proof that it’s their bones your standing on top of? How do you know they even died? Exactly the reason people die in my life all the time. I don’t need proof, I just need to decide. Is that person to be around or not, if they’re not their dead to me. They’re not coming back, though if they did it may be in thought which is exactly the same as if they were really dead, dead. But does anyone really truly die? I don’t believe they do, because wherever they are, however they are, they still existed, there was thoughts about them, they were involved in other lives. God wouldn’t waste a soul like that. If he wanted someone to die, die he would erase them from our memory, but would that erase all that they did? Then it would erase everyone back to the beginning of time, back to nothing. There are so many reasons why God is real and I want to get people to realise that, but really what difference does it make? God says every life counts, that every life you touch is special, meaningful and part of a plan. What fucking plan? We are all just a bunch of people wondering around aimlessly. We do what we do and we are who we are. We are constant, obliviously an oxymoron in time. Believe whatever the hell you want; you can’t change or control what happens in life, do what you want when you can because you can.

Another thing regrets. Do you people not understand regrets do not exist?! They do not! If you want to do something, recreate the situation, try again, just do it. For goodness sake, nothing enrages me more than someone saying they regret something because clearly, they thought about it and made a decision and if that decision they now decide was wrong and they would have benefitted the other decision, well too fucking late, you are done, decision made, live with it, and work with it and from it. What about the decision to die? We all will in time so does that give us the ultimate control if we take it on ourselves? No, because for every damn action there is some kind of reaction, thankyou Isaac Newton. We are still uncertain of what happens after death, and we are still uncertain of what would have happened in time if we had not made the decision we now regret. Does that make sense? We are constantly unsure of things and rely on faith, hence why the word ‘faith’ is called exactly that. We all need faith, and we all need to believe and pray for God to have mercy on our souls.

I understand so much and yet I question so much. I state and think too much. I am just wasting time with this because it’s not intended to be read. I am not sure what I intended to do with this cynical, incessant rambling. I believe that to be the reason I am continuing to type this useless statement because I can for me as a decision over no one else’s control, essentially  the simple logic behind every action any of us do.

 I say I wish to die, so why don’t I die? I say I wish to cut my brain out to stop my thought, so why don’t I? Now, the opposite of the equation, help me here and work your way back. What have I done towards myself that has stopped me from feeling anything inside? I feel the pain which I cannot says feels well and good because that is logically two different emotions. It is so hard to explain. I can see everyone else’s pain and I can choose to do something and react or not. If I react I will help, make worse, or bring on myself, ultimately becoming involved and doing something, but I’m not sure what. I don’t want to know what, so I won’t. I will be selfish and focus on myself like some kind of self-praising narcissistic person no one likes. By telling myself to react I realise when I think I am feeling something I am actually not. People have asked do you feel anything even for five minutes. And I said yes, but I now realise I was wrong, I pretend I do because that is what is expected in the situation. If I always act the way the situation is directed, where does that get me? I’ll be aimlessly floating around, just like our souls supposedly do in heaven if anyone ever gets there. Even angels fall out of Heaven, and if they fall out, what kind of hope do the rest of us have? We are all fucked from the moment we are born. Are we all just to feel and do as much as possible until we die, which we don’t know when that will be because we have no control! And if we all do as much as possible, achieve the world, learn, explore, create, imagine, become CEOs and important big shots or useless celebrities; we still die. We all die no matter what we do. Why are we trying not to die with all thse drugs and things? It is obvious dying is a part of life and if intended to happen regardless so let’s do it! Let’s die! Let’s do something we were actually meaning to do in life! I believe that to be the meaning of life, to die. As long as one person, just one person had apart or anything to do with you, your aim in life was completed. From the second you were born your reason was self-completed because your mother was expecting you, you came from two people meeting together. Fuck life is so complicated. And yet, I have written it out in plain English just for some random act. Nothing to learn from this as it is all things we should already know. As is everything we ever get taught, if we can get taught it well how come we don’t already know? We don’t really benefit from learning whatever we did. If we needed it we would have known it, like hunger or thirst or communication.  How does a spider know to make a web? How does a caterpillar to spin a cocoon? How does a lioness to hunt for a lion? And the aimless meaningless list goes on for infinity. I believe they knew because they needed to know. We breathe because we need to breathe to stay alive, we learn because we think we will get somewhere. When that somewhere is nowhere, where do we go? Why don’t we do anything? Maybe depression is not an illness but a part of life that should happen because it is meant to. Because depression is now more common because we are all too focused us are all going around in this circle again that the world goes around and if we don’t each kill ourselves we end up killing each other? We kill each other if we die, we kill each other if we intend to or not. On the inside we are all dead.

I want to die and stop wasting time. I want to die because I will kill other people. I will kill other people by being alive or dead with all the decisions I make. What’s that? It’s a circle again! Ever heard of the saying ‘what goes around, comes around?’, it’s actually what I believe to be a translation of something God intends us to believe that he will take care of things if we just live and try to be good. Try to be good. If we don’t try to be good and we try to be bad, we still die.

As soon as I stop typing it will be like I’m not here. Mentally I believe I am not here. I believe a lot of things. I think I have actually already killed myself, which would explain why I can’t die. I can’t die because I am already dead. I died a few years ago. I didn’t realise it at the time because it was natural to act in the situation therefore I didn’t pay attention to the fact I was acting. I notice after situation, I disregard them almost immediately as if they never happened. Dissociated from things that probably had an effect of some kind on that person I can’t change because it is not my decision.  Life is decisions. Life is death. Life is circular. Life is about aimlessly wanting things, and right now I want to aimlessly crack 3,000 words, so I will ramble further. Do we aimlessly want things or do we think we want things, we trick ourselves into thinking we do when really they will not benefit us. This is true as a perfect example when you’re a child you see something in the toy store and for no reason you want it. Ten seconds ago you did not know this item existed and now you’re consumed by it. You don’t get this toy and go home and think about all the things you could do with it and how helpful it would be. So after maybe days or weeks you get this toy somehow because you wanted it in life. You play with it maybe for a day and disregard it the next. All that time wasted. And now that money you payed and energy is gone, if regretted, too bad. And the circle repeats itself. Again and again until we want to finish school, we want to fail school, we want to go to university and study something that we think will benefit us or please someone else, maybe help someone else? It helps the teachers by attending and the government by enrolling, somewhere someone is affected. But how did they become the government or become a teacher? Do we really need them or can we just act in the situation?

We are all uselessly connected in a circle of death. The circle I am in now is I have completed my 3,000 words and yet could just keep going because it would be an endless mixture of words until I die because I will just keep having thoughts until I die. I will now make the decision to stop typing and to go to bed to where I will not sleep but lay, be cold, and stare at the roof aimlessly and ponder more things that will never be recorded in time. Even this incessant rambling will be forgotten, eventually I will stop typing and I will feel nothing from completing it as I feel nothing from doing it. I will then eventually fall asleep; more than likely have a nightmare and get up and go to work, without a useless thought or emotion of anyone or anything to do with this typo mess. By choosing how to act and be I will not now ramble about how I feel nothing at a cemetery at night, how I’m constantly picking my nails off for something to try and focus on, how I constantly obsessively pull this rubber band around my wrist as hard as I can to try and feel something to remind myself I’m dead, and how I really have no idea what the fuck is going on.

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