The alarm clock goes off, the sheets stir briefly. Another morning, another day, another set of experiences. Another routine. Must keep a schedule. Chaos is ugly. Chaos is dirty. Chaos is scary. Same thing I did yesterday. Same people I saw yesterday, same conversations they had a week ago. Do they realize? I'm too observant. I am bored. I learn but gain no knowledge. I read but gain no wisdom. Must continue on, routine is too important. What am I working towards? Why am I here? What purpose do I serve? The questions are buried in a pile of similar queries in the bottom of my mind. I did it yesterday, I did it last week, I must do it now.

I asked myself the same questions staring at my computer screen a week ago? two? three? Not important. As the colored text reflected off the screen I realized something. This is not important. The hours, the days, the weeks I spent mesmerized, entranced, captivated. Working for something that was so trivial in the scope of the world. Something I had no power over, something that could take my life without killing me, something that had claimed a vast majority of my teenage years. Routine tried to tame my blasphemous thoughts. You know what to do. What you did yesterday, what you did last week, what you did a year ago. I stared at that screen. I stared at it long and hard. I stared at it until my head hurt. I turned the computer off.

I ignore the people who try and bring me back to the routine. The people with whom I had spent more time with than my own family, my own friends. The voice of routine echoes within their words, taunting me, teasing me, scaring me. Those people I considered friends. Those people whom I've never seen or heard. Disappear into the void. They don't know me, they don't care about me, nobody does. I look at myself in the mirror. I see the ravages of my addictive personality. I see the strained relationships in my life. I see what is to come. But what could I have been? Who could I have been something special to? Who could have been special to me? I lie in bed, in deep concentration, attempting to piece together the broken pieces of my life, shattered like a precious vase.

Time to go to bed. Must get up tomorrow. To do the same thing I did yesterday.. and last week.. and last month....

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