Atmosfear.

The truth is palpable. And, my condition is pitiable. Well,almost. I am trapped on an island. I have friends - they never fail to remind me of their existence, I have the approval of the fairer sex - I can enter their bodies at will, yet I have nothing. I'm not lonesome,no. As for boredom, there is none. If there was boredom, then it would be understandable, at least. I have always found comfort in the company of solitude. Life is too short to be willed away like this. If there is an all-encompassing Truth, then this Truth can be broached by understanding oneself. Or inasmuch as the mind can understand its own involuted self. There is much to be uncovered. There is much to be confused about. I can chip my fingernails on the subject, but I can rest happy knowing that my fellow man has taken the effort to solidify his investment in himself. As long as ignorance remains a point-of-view, there will be arguments, but no fruitful discussions. I prod myself continually, hoping to elicit some response to the sadness I find myself facing. I find none.

I never quite understand why society is so notoriously straitlaced in matters of sex. Aren't the biological implications of sexual happiness reason enough to be satisfied? When Society turns its cold, unappreciative eyes on sexuality with malevolence, I'm confused. Aren't bedrooms part of society's mainframe? As if semen is pus, and ovulation is liquid irony. Why do you shift so uneasily in your chairs when the talking heads on television tell you they had had oral sex done on them by other talking heads? It is a part of life. I may be young and bloodless, but I know that you cannot set limitations on what you deem as vulgar when you yourself extrapolate that vulgarity to your sex lives. That is why moral policing is stupid. People will derive pleasure from their own perversity. It's always too late when the youth come to terms with puberty. You can't put your finger on one thing and say,'This is it. I have found the Mother Lode'. I am seventeen. Pubescence brought about changes in me, yes. When I see those changes as having a personal quality, I understand. Because they are a extension of what principally constitutes my sexuality. When you force me to acknowledge what's right - contextually or otherwise - I will have a hard time swallowing your advice because for me, the parameters are different. I draw the line on the slate a little bit thicker than most others. So, all I can do is wait for morality to come to me, not the reverse.

I look up at the starry skies and I find peace in the colossal emptiness. Maybe, in the distance, I can sense the cores of white dwarves and red giants as they burn hydrogen to helium. The arrangement of atoms differs, the up-quark meets the down-quark. The conductors hands flail wildly as he falls from the stage, to land in a heap among the cellists. The crowd finds its feet. And there is an eerie silence as the conductor is carried away by the paramedics.