I keep making the error of doing anything or saying anything. the vampires have made it loud and clear: I will not be listened to and my rights will not be enforced. they will use their numerousness and their everywhereness and their identicalness against me and they will not relent. I will not be allowed to go anywhere and I will not be allowed to do anything. when I will do nothing they will pounce upon me until I must do something, and when I do something they will make sure I do not succeed and understand that I am not allowed to do anything. I will work, but I will have no money. I will learn my rights, but I will not have rights. I will fight, but I will be outnumbered. I will barricade my doors, but I will be pursued. I will pay attention, so I can be raped. I'll stop my senses, and I will be clubbed. I will be shunned. nothing I say will be listened to. but if there's something to exploit, or an experience of self doubt, there will be a horde of them ready to pounce on me and sink its fangs.

the insects keep swarming until they wear you down. the herd has every weapon at its disposal. there's unity, synchronicity, the police. be careful not to give away your secrets for them to expoloit! or they'll just have to know them without your consent. they have the advantage that they can tell you complete bullshit with the most sincere looking faces, because they themselves do not even know how full of shit they are. or they can take the 'we have concerns' approach (threats). they can tell you you are unwell, because it's against the rules of the game to actually talk about what's blatantly happening in front of you, as they never do except in rhymes and metaphors. so today I received a few minor bites, in the form of faces. when those without emotions pretend to have emotions, what am I to make of it? they can't be criticizing something having to do with the truth, or they wouldn't be pretending to have emotions. if they're criticizing something having to do with bullshit, then there's no reason they should know what I look like (or who I am). they just wanted to bite, that's all. it may give me some pleasure if someone took a match and just set all these vampires on fire.

the more I reflect on my many encounters with the molesting vampires, the more I realize there is just nothing to them, they are just pieces of shit, that's it, they are there to be pieces of shit, they should just go away.

maybe we should have a herd-police: join the herd, or get arrested!
wait, that's already there. I was forced on medication because I was being untalkative. and cops just start watching me more closely whenever I stray from the herd. I was once stopped by a cop because I deleted my facebook account. now, after posting hundreds and hundreds of my artworks everywhere (without getting a cent, any response, or anyone listening to what I have to say), I deleted a few. now police cars slow down whenever they pass by me.
who will protect me from the police? the herd? who will protect me from the herd? the police?
they are one and the same.

when the ants start to gather around me, I must devote my time to making them go away. sometimes this works, until a short while later, when they've forgotten all about it. this keeps repeating, consistently, always.

so what's to criticize? let's see, well I'm blabbering. why am I blabbeing? well because my life is and must be devoted to the pieces of shit. I have been trying for years every god damned method of just making them go away. they don't. if I don't go to them, they come to me. that's the way it was, is, and forever shall be. so I should feel guilty for blabbering? I should not. or maybe I should feel guilty for justifying myself before the pieces of shit? well, that's the only thing I can think of blabbering about right now, and blabber I must, because my life is and must be devoted to the pieces of shit. I am now anticipating an harassment of some sorts, probably auditory. or they'll take advantage of me blabbering right now, and try to coerce me into blabbering more tomorrow. well, they'd be doing the same thing anyways, which is why I'm blabbering in the first place. this is indeed sad, but as I know from very long experience, my life is and must be devoted to the pieces of shit. there is no other way. as my every move must always be under a magnifying glass, next let us think how they will be trying to break my confidence. well, they can always just make faces. maybe really embarrassed faces, like: well, you really stepped out of line this time, you have made a complete fool out of yourself. you were overly forthcoming and just went on and on with all these things we just did not need to hear. I shall reply: my life is and must be devoted to the pieces of shit, there is no other way. or what did they do last year? well, they called me an actor. this does not make sense, since they are actors, and I am not. actually, it does make sense: they are actors... anyways, I don't act, I mean what I say, sometimes my mood changes, like I might be in a bad mood, then in a better mood later, that could happen. they however are exactly that. their very appearance is an act, and when they pretend to have emotions, well that's the feature presentation. so why am I writing for nobody? well, because I am here, and there is nobody, and as long as they keep sucking my blood, I will be writing, and for lack of options, I am writing for nobody.

sorry, I was interrupted by Big Brother there for a moment. and why have the pieces of shit not done anything about this? well because they are a bunch of flocking nazis who would much rather participate. if someone gets spied on 24-7, obviously the population should be killing whoever is doing the spying, but no, not this population, this population would much rather participate. so now someone will say: oh look! you're devoting too much time to the pieces of shit! you are giving them far too much power over you! well, I'll say what I knew well last year, and what I know even better now: there is no choice. my every moment must be devoted to the pieces of shit, if I wasn't writing this now, I would be sitting there watching their bites fester and grow. next time I go outside, it will be the same thing again. the pieces of shit. the pieces of shit. life is all about the pieces of shit. so let's see, last summer what happened? I was in much the same situation, and had already been trying for years every method conceivable to just get rid of the pieces of shit, and I already knew quite well: there is no way. if I take a backward direction, well, they'll follow me everywhere, they'll keep coming and coming and coming and biting and biting, and I will be retreating further and further into my corner. so I choose a forward direction. the only thing about that, is that they'll be playing judge and jury as they love so much, and they'll be criticizing my every move. whereas if I take a backward direction, they'll simply just admit to being pieces of shit and make fun of themselves in very unpleasant and overly obtrusive ways. (to be continued).

well, there is no choice: I will be devoting my life to the pieces of shit. I tried being silent for a while there, and they just became more vicious. I can't go outside for 5 minutes without being bitten, and when I come back the bites fester and grow. seeing as my every move is under a magnifying glass, let me then justify myself before the pieces of shit, who will then pretend to have read this. one option: when the bites begin to fester, I'll just sit there and watch them fester, in which case I'll begin to wonder what bites are for, and then I'll become someone who does not like being bitten because there is nothing I can do about it. another option: I will pretend there is something I can do about it and go with the rage and the poison. seeing as all they do is hurt me, I am not filled with desire to hurt myself. and from experience, it seems reasonable to assume that no mass genocide will be occuring any time soon, and so the best I can hope for is to try to breathe life into these zombies. of course I would prefer that they go away, but that never happens, and instead of retreating from their neverending barrage of bites, I will choose a forward direction and, for lack of options, I will be devoting my life to the pieces of shit.
am I yet justified in their eyes? never. what they want is for me to kill myself, but I will never do that, because with what life has done to me, and being unable to do anything to them, this is one of the very few things I have the power to do.

let's see, this week I'm being given the ol' teeth by 'people of my age group'. last week it was something else. notice how they always act as a unity, and notice how I refer to them as THE pieces of shit. funny how the herd targeting me this week is doing that thing where they're pretending to be offended, which is precisely the thing they have well proven they're incapable of. I'm trying to remember, was Resident Evil filmed in Thornhill?

I fear an entire herd population harassing me for everything I say, do, think, etc. and so I avoid putting up pictures of myself in any public domain. if they were to harass me anyways, they would be giving me a reminder that they in fact should not have any right to appear before me or be anywhere. when pieces of shit glare at me out of their cars, why can't they ever get into an accident? I have to read about that in newspapers, and about how everyone cares so so much when someone dies. this has nothing to do with the blood drinking vampires I have to encounter every time I dare step out of my house for a few minutes. the cold merciless pieces of shit that relentlessly try to drive me to kill myself, these are the pieces of shit that then get credit for caring so so much when bad things happen. when I open the newspaper and do not see that all these zombies and molestors have been eradicated, it makes me want to puke.