E tenebras, lux dormiens

"So full of smut am I," I said sadly, "that all the world should look upon me as full of dirt and hypocrisy, as one born for the place of cin. I cin against heaven with my own thought, and for so long have I seeked to change myself, that I would not partake of such lustiness toward the untoward.

"But the world does not look upon me. That's the thing. The world composes not of any large body that care for what this little dude with a whacked-up hair does. The world does not care that I am going to take a shower now. The world could care a thistle about me. It could not care less. The only comfort I can seek is the, the real, the person that stands en frente of me. Fugaces labuntur anni (The fleeting years glide by)."

I took a shower for fifteen minutes, brushed my teeth, flossed, and clipped my fingernails. I made a pantomime of a robot, but as one, I signed. I did not need to talk, but let my hands made their robotic movements. Oh, if those Japanese companies could produce a robot that will sign to me! But now, all it does is talk, bark, or mew. These things I hear only with great concentration.

I continued, "Qué hora es? Son las doce. No creo que sean las doce. Why do I stay up so late?"

For so long have I struggled, that I do not remember what I've done. I looked at the photo album of me from years and years ago. Had I any thought, that years and years hence I would be where I am now?

Years and years ago, I was so pimply-looking. My God, how ugly was I! I was red-splotched! It wasn't the worst, but it was terrible. I got to show you how ugly I was when I was little. This should turn any of you off! But not now, not now. I don't have a scanner nearby.

I really didn't take care of my face. I rarely washed my face in the morning. I was probably also so stressed, and stressedness enforces the mechanism that create acne. I also touched my face a lot, and touching transmit germ to my face. I also didn't take care of my hair, so before I cut it short, it was always sticking up. To make up for my lack of grooming habit, I took this pillow-headedness and called it, "my bird's crest."

Oy.

I guess, since I didn't look in the mirrors very often, I had no idea that I looked unsightly enough for me not to have much friends. Though I know it's not the only reason for why I am the way I am. The time will come, or it will not come, or it comes only halfway. And I will be ready for it to bring me out of my shell, meet it at its mark, and make it mine.

I disgust myself, though. It'll be a while before I fully transcend that, before I truly understand and accept it. But until then, I look with disgust that I would reject a favor, and still look on visual display for easy, free, and quick orgasm.