There's a hollowness inside of us all. But not when you're a kid, not until something bad happens to you.

There was this kid who lost his way when becoming a man. Parents should protect their children from the sadness of life, but this child's family just embraced it, wishing to cause him more sadness.

How do you live in a cage? Doesn't it eventually have an effect on you?

Motivation is much easier when you're happy. But being happy always brought out my dark side even more. How do I choose to contain it tonight?

These are just miserable ramblings, me searching to find my voice or an idea to shape. But the evil nature of religion again effects the outcome of my life without remorse or consideration of the fact that I do not participate.

How could my parents let God rape me? Even when I told them what he did they still cling to him, like my sufferring meant nothing.

I wish there was a God, so that he could feel what it's like to be raped.

There is something to be said for physical pain, I hate it. But I much prefer it to mental anguish, as it eventually subsides.

Where do I find these thoughts? Who is having them? Because it is not me. I suppose I understand people with multiple personalities, they are compensating for severe trauma.

I wish my mind was strong enough to protect me from my trauma. Instead I have to live with it every day. The images, screams and crying that echo forever in your brain. Those phrases, like, "he's dead, oh my God, he killed himself, come home now," which actually took forever to say because of the cow-like sobbing. The smell of death, no matter what form. All these are things that you won't ever forget.

I remember the first dead body I saw. I remember what a skull-cap sounds (and smells) like when it's being sawed off. I'll never forget how bad untreated tumors can be. I will always remember what 3 dead cats look like after they've been forgotten about for 3 years, the unmistakable oily outlines they leave on the carpet.

I remember the look on my girlfriend's face when she knew I knew she was cheating. I remember my shocked expression when another girl told me she was pregnant. I'll remember when that same girl later told me she got an abortion. I'll remember the joyless, loveless, meaningless sex I've had with many different people. I'll remember her telling me she "thinks" it's herpes and that she had an abortion because she wanted me. I'll remember that same girl, even though my heart was her's, telling me she didn't really like me.

I remember the way the boy told the lady how he was molested, the horrific nature of what had happened finally surfacing. I remember throwing my guts up when I realized nothing would happen to this lady or any of the other terrible people who deserve nothing but to be locked in a cell for the rest of their lives. I remember looking in another boy's face, apologizing that I couldn't help his little sister even though I promised I would.

I remember the pit in my stomach when I heard my friend was dead (twice.) I remember my parents sitting us down and telling us they were getting a divorce, then remarried, then moving, then screaming at their spouses.

I remember the hatred I felt for my brother, having to always take punches but never give them back. I remember being proud of myself because I could take abuse so well without returning it. I remember never feeling quite good enough, even when I graduated from college.

I remember love, I remember guilt and depression too. I remember hurting people I care about because I was so afraid of getting hurt. I remember the comfort in isolation and I remember drugs :)

I remember falling asleep under stars, I remember kisses, I remember sex (a lot) that was amazing and frequent. I remember happiness and understanding. I remember what someone's hand feels like when you care about them. I remember staying up all night thinking about the possibility of someone. I remember the first kiss I ever had, but that I thought it was kinda gross. I remember the girl that changed my mind about that. I remember thinking I was going to die the first time I got really drunk.

I remember holidays and presents. I remember my patents getting me my first car, I remember the feeling of finally getting free and driving hours and hours mindlessly with nothing to do. Embarassingly enough, I remember crying when kids made fun of me at school or would say some shitty thing about my parents. Especially when it was my girlfriend.

I remember being so pissed off at a old-woman that I really and truly wanted to spit on her. I remember arguing with people even though I knew I was wrong. I remember the feeling of doing something outside my moral code and how exciting and scary that feels.

I remember my best friend getting married, how happy he looked. I remember how weird I felt, because I'm normally so jealous of other people's happiness. I remember how truly good it felt so see someone who actually deserved happiness get it. I remember how much happier it made me, knowing that at least some of the people I cared about ended up where they wanted to be.

I remember everything, yet I remember nothing.

I remember the "aha" moment when religion started making sense. I remember sitting for a tea ritual at a Buddhist monastery and burning icense for the people I'd lost and to those I would lose.

I remember the sound of the tattoo gun at a biker house party that the band played at, I remember the taste of dog and several other odd foods. Tastes can be the keeper of fond memories.

I still feel the buzz from the first time I screamed my heart out on stage (even though it was terrible.) I remember friends and finally feeling accepted. I remember many books, themes and academic garbage.

I remember song lyrics (most of them my own) I remember concerts. I remember being crunched in so many people that I thought I'd pass out, yet letting my weight be supported by the crowd and letting everyone else sway me to the sound of the deafening music. I remember the sweat, tears, spit, beer and glitter that covered my body when the band was done. I remember actually FEELING music.

I remember smells most of all, the way they take you back, away from everything present, to the past memory.

I remember pissing on the American embassy, digging for treasure in Belize, almost being killed by a black Mamba, crocodiles and hippos in Africa. I remember eating at a Domino's pizza across from the pyramids in Egypt. I remember the armed guard who followed us everywhere in Jordan. I remember tiny Chinese pimps in faux cheetah-skin jackets asking me if I want "sex massage".

I remember the nobility of an Elephant in the wild and was ashamed by the pathetic eminence of a captured one. I remember the people who died, who are being tortured, who suffer endlessly through no fault of their own.

But I don't remember me. I don't remember who I was in all these things. I don't remember what I looked like or how I appeared. What am I missing? Why is my story not yet complete?

I'm done with my life but it feels like it hasn't even started yet. I'm torn between finishing the story myself or just becoming someone else, someone new, someone I always wanted to be?

I guess, either way, I'm ok with death again. I wouldn't be sad if I died at any moment. Not because I'm depressed, just because I've filled my cup to the top and I don't wish to overflow.

The best thing I can think of is to simply empty the cup, so that nothing is left and I can start filling it again.

The Dregs are all members of a small group of society that is comprised of discarded children. Unwanted babies that have been disformed and disfigured by attempts at genetic perfection. They have been raised as worse than vermin, fed very little, some routinely exploited for sex, experimentation and eventually murdered.

These sad individuals have grown together and formed a close bond with one another. Each person has their own story, although they all have very different endings.

Although they are looked down upon by the genetically superior, the Dregs are strong. They have been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. These are their stories, this is an explanation.

I looked out the porthole window. The stars stretched forth for miles. I saw bright clusters of blue and green. Reds and whites. Beautiful glowing spectres scattered across the darkness of the expanse. I take a seat, leaning back far in the deep chair.

The leather settles and creaks underneath me. The fakeness of the fabric's reality is revealed by the unnatural smell of it's hide. Interestingly, the entire scene was fake.

Pull back the wall, the porthole window, anything in the room, and you would find that it was fake. Like the stickers on a child's toy, emulating reality. A two dimensional representation of reality.

It really doesn't matter. I'm real in what reality I choose to exist. This becomes harder to do as an adult, but as a child it was much easier. I remember days and days of make believe. I remember lining up toys and seeing them become real before my eyes, marching against each other, their guns blazing, the bullets peircing their plastic bodies, their fake vocal cords screaming in pain. I remember the utter destuction some of my toys reigned down upon some helpless victims. Those days, not long passed, served as a basis on which my talent would be built. Living in false realities. It's not as difficult as it seems.

Adoption is important. Accepting that all reality is false is also a necessary realization. After this the possibilities are endless and you can truly become alive.

Committing something to paper takes too much effort. Thinking of a thought of a combination of words that makes sense is too difficult. I'm tired of thinking. I'm tired of feeling like THIS. So what if I won't be happy soon? It's all been downhill up until now. Even though, even now, going uphill feels like going down.

I'm really, just honestly, truthfully, insufficient.

Happiness is three credit cards and thousands of dollars away.

Working towards a dream is way better than working towards nothing at all. In fact, the dream is the only motivation. Why are things so clear and still so unknowable? The fragmentation of these ideas epitomize the existential nature of my mind's eye.

I'm stupider than anyone I know.

Why can I not be successful?

Is complete and utter happiness, even for a brief moment, an irrationality? Is it impossible? What is happiness anyways? Contentness? Satisfaction? A smile? Maybe all of those? Deeper into the deconstruction of happiness a student may find that happiness consists much more of gratitude and deals with a much deeper and universal issue of overall capacity for good. To do good. To receive good. To feel good. Is the good feeling fleeting? Or is it an everlasting feeling, something unshakable? It matters significantly, as these are two separate types of happiness. Happiness of the fleeting variety is nice, usually intense, but not always sustaining. Some what like a burst of caffeine in your blood stream, these fleeting feelings are good for quick jolts. But concrete happiness, those unshakable feelings associated with family and friends, this type of happiness can infect the soul, permeate the subconcious and leave the victim with a sustained overall sense of well-being.

So is it advisable to seek these temporary pleasures? Or delight in the solid foundations of happiness? A happy medium is certainly advised, however many lack either. Faced with a situation in which happiness is required to inspire, temporary delights of happiness can certainly provide. However, in situations in which a strong instution needs to be constructed, countries need to be founded, happiness can be found through religion, the family or unmovable relationships with others.

Funny how the bonds that help fuse us together can be those which tear us the most apart. The family, insulted by each other, instigated horrible bloody feuds which consume thousands of lives. Religious "martyrs" give their lives in the names of their Gods, taking with them innocent non-believers who did not ask for a fight. Wars fought in the name of God, name-sake or country. Millions upon millions suffering, fighting for one thing. Happiness.

But how can we provide it? A logical next-step. It seems a conundrum, that the desire for happiness is that which destroys it. The illogical nature of greed consumes the seeker and their soul. Happiness will always be unattainable to those who strive to attain it. This is due to the fact that happiness is relative. One man is made happy by pain, while another would be happy to be free of it. Even in suffering there remains an element of satisfaction, of happiness. Be that denied, the creation of a happy population becomes irrelevant. Be that as it may, how can happiness be created? In a situation in which greed and sadness have all but taken control of the society, how does happiness return?

The answer is much simpler than it seems. No God, no biological equivalent and no policy will ever bring happiness. It is up to the end-user, the consumer. Changing the relative definition of happiness will significantly increase happiness in a society. If a civilization's idea of happiness can be homogonized and identified, happiness can be manipulated as easily as flowing water. The unattainable, can now be, attained.

where do we go? what do we know?
a faint shadow cast across a window.
reminders of a mess once left behind.
could we escape these mental processii?
Something terrible deep inside of him, silenced yet begging to be surfaced. forgetting all the old tricks to keep him inside. the beggar, the liar. vaccummed once, yet she closed the wounds, healed the sorrows.
it's gone again, too late. then your left, alone, shaken and forgotten.
if these words seemed untargeted, unordered, confused, random or cluttered, do not be fooled. this is the word and deed and the way of progression.
Behold our history; brave and true!!!:
(This taken from translation, so all information may not be accurate)

2024. This is common knowledge. Scientists have discovered the origins of life. Our volcanoes here actually held the key. A biological anthropologist discovered that microscopic organisms were born out of volcanoes, the minerals and water gushing from the surface of the planet. Algae was also discovered, living in snow packs. The algae was red and discovered living in arctic conditions. After the first manned mission to mars it was confirmed that alien life, in the form of red algae was growing in ice slightly below the surface. Core samples of the planet allowed scientists to ascertain that mars did once support life. Following this important discovery, samples were brought back to Earth of some old organic material found on Mar’s surface. The samples contained multiple cellular organisms. Today, the announcement was made, along with another, more frightening discovery. “Ladies and Gentleman, we are not alone. NASA biologists have discovered what appear to be multiple cellular organisms that we were able to revive. I am proud to say that NASA has discovered the first alien life. The similarities to the multiple cellular organisms on Earth is extraordinary. Further, more in-depth reports will be available as the researchers are able to provide it.” Later on that day, it was found that, in fact, the red sand that gives Mars its distinctive appearance was found to contain DNA material. When compared to modern materials, the closest Earthly substance was ground bone. Upon much further review, scientists concluded that Mars was covered in a fine dust of powdered bones. While this raised many more questions than it answered, the fact that humans were not alone was confirmed. As technology developed we were able to discover that water was quite a common compound found on many planets. Throughout the galaxy, thousands, millions of planets were discovered, with life surviving in numerous different ways, although no humanoid life was ever found. In fact, each planet discovered appeared as if it harbored life trillions of years ago. Strangely, all the planets were no longer capable of sustaining life. Humans were unable to adapt to any of these conditions, therefore we remained on Earth. DNA extracted from the carcasses of dead arthopods, found encrusted in ice on the surface of Saturn made it possible for a clone of the frozen bug to be created. 4 of these clones were made. The first, left to the conditions of Earth, which died shortly. An autopsy determined the bug had no ability to absorb oxygen into it’s circulatory system and probably suffocated. The second clone was place into a universe similar to what Saturn may be like, under the surface of it’s ice. Scientists were able to accelerate evolution and were able to create a species evolutionarily similar to humans. Although, the tests were stopped for three years as the debate over whether or not creating life was acceptable.

This is what we know, the rest.....is forthcoming.

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