detachment.

These past few days, I have been consistent in including the word "detachment" in my daily thoughts. The seductive idea of being isolated in some place where human murmurs are considered taboo and out of place has been lingering in the darkest points of my thinking process. I am not afraid of people. I am tired of them. Do not mistake me for a loner. That would be much too understated. I love people--certain kinds of people, I guess. I remember in high school, I would always dream about a specific island that I wish to buy. I intend to build a new civilization in that place. A new breed of people if I might say so. A professor in college is right. She is always right anyway. Those students who raised their hands when asked if they dream to have a book included in bookstores' best-selling lists have a "Single World Domination Syndrome". You are absolutely right. I could have raised all my limbs if I am not conscious.

I do not hate people--no, of course not. However, I have this irresistible urge to murder loads of them. I am actually feeling "Hitler-like" which is absolutely evil of me. I do not particularly hate a human being right now. I cannot explain further why I am feeling murderous. It is not for you to understand anyway. Probably my villainous thoughts can be converted to the layman's term "obsession to make a change". I wish to do a lot of things to contribute something in the society but everytime I think about it, the pessimism saves me from doing anything at all. Stupid, right? You do not have to answer that, of course.

You know what, I think I will go write a draft of this world that I wish to live in or most probably a story of how dystopic I believe the future earth will be. Hah! Very Orwell! --and Huxley-ic of course.