Last lights.

Belief is an intelligent species' mechanism against going insane.

Do you think it's possible that humans evolved a need to find patterns/meaning in things because of natural selection? Say, you have half the population with a gene that causes them to have vague religious or spiritual ideas, and the other half doesn't have that gene. Since we've become smart enough to reflect on life and ourselves, unlike almost all other animals (as far as we know), for the people who didn't have the gene, they would just stand there like me and think, I'm eating so I can live so I can breed so another one of me can eat and do the whole thing over again; what's the point? Those people in general would have bred less often than the people who had some sense of purpose or of a higher force directing them or judging them or whatever. So after many iterations, the population of non-believers shrinks to some minimum (but never totally goes away), while the people who possess the gene that causes them to plunge ahead with eating and humping and doing all that stuff that life is "about," are obviously more successful at it and go on to dominate the gene pool.

That's my theory why so many people are religious or spiritual or believe in fate or have some need to believe, if you will. They have to or they will cease to care about anything, even living. Obviously that wouldn't be selected for in a natural setting. People like me are an aberration, people who were born without that gene or whatever and who looked around, realized there was no instruction manual, no rules, no way to "win", no end except a grisly one without meaning, and said, ok, what do I do now? And that's my problem in life. I can't find any purpose, any reason to exist. No one asked me if I wanted to be born. Actually I'm a little bitter about it still. Just a theory. But one that explains why people are the way they are without needing to postulate a God or Intelligent Designer of any sort. Because then you get into the whole infinite-regress problem: Who made God? Etc. It's tortoises all the way down. Maybe the Entire Universe is a form of sentient life, and organizes itself like a life form; that's possible. I just don't know. So I'm agnostic about everything.

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I think the fact that I'm educated and well-spoken and intelligent is the problem. It might be better if I had a drooling, blithering retarded exterior rather than a veneer of normalcy. Then people would at least see right away that I'm nonfunctional. As it is, I am nonfunctional, or barely functional, just as much as anyone else who cannot take care of himself and who is deeply mentally and emotionally impaired. But my higher-brained ability to hold a conversation and do things "normally" for short periods of time when under observation, and then to blog about it, works against me, and hides that rest of the iceberg that is my mangled self from the world. It's like the old saying of if you're sane enough to say that you're insane, you can't possibly be insane. The insane don't know they are. But I know I have huge problems beneath the surface, they just aren't always obvious from the outside and that has really harmed me in the sense of getting help. So many people would look at me, talk briefly to me, and think I'm smart and well-adjusted. But they never come live with me for awhile and learn the truth...

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Dream: Four siblings born at once to a dying mother. 2 boys, 1 girl, 1 mutant. 2 boys grew up to each control half the world's power, and fought ceaselessly against one another, maintaining an equilibrium of war and strife. Finally, at one of their ebbs in power when both were regrouping, the sister, who had been waiting patiently, stepped in and wiped them both out. She promised peace for the world, but under her leadership the one-world government, unchecked, became corrupt, stale, and abusive, leading to another sort of nightmare existence under Big Sister. Finally, the mutant, who had been assumed impotent and largely forgotten, rose up and defeated the sister, and the world thought one dictator was merely replacing another. Especially when 'it' began to multiply vastly its arsenal of weapons and control of every aspect of the living ecosphere. But at the peak of its incredible power, the mutant composed itself with grace and chose self-destruction, and took everything with it, rather than succumb to the lure of power, even the promise of benevolent self-rule with all its lies. Life everywhere was snuffed out, and suffering was at last ended.

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I want to scream so loud that my entire apartment will be shattered, the entire world go away, my own body and mind implode after the scream, and collapse in on itself to nothing.

Shaking, shaking in fear and withdrawal. Now too terrified to even move. Wrapped in a blanket like a mummy in linens, still, heart pounding, waiting for the end of time. It's cold and I'm sweating and I can't bear to look. My skin is crawling and there is no light; it's dark inside and out. It's dark everywhere now.

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There is a dog running around, rolling around, gamboling about above me, day and night. But it's a guide dog so that's ok right? The office denied for months that there was a dog, looking me in the eye and reminding me of their policy that "we don't allow dogs in these apartments." Kaleena, you lied. There is a dog above me - I saw him. Then you said, "He's a guide dog." I support guide dogs and the people who need them, but don't lie to me, and don't place them in upstairs units. BIG guide dogs that like to run and knock over furniture, with owners who encourage them by seemingly throwing them things to fetch, all the way across the apartment, repeatedly. What in the hell was the management of this place thinking? I hate being lied to, and told that what I'm hearing is NOT a dog when it is - guide dog variety or not. I would have understood more had you been honest. Now I'm just mad.

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The light is fading now. I've been wrapped in blankets all day. I can't stand to see the light, or what it shows. Headaches are kicking me around like kids with a new ball. The dog is running around.

It's only once every chunk of hours that I can get up the courage to get on the computer and write something so people don't panic. Now I can go back to my cocoon and panic. The lights, so low...