I am not a genius. I am not crazy. I am merely bitter. Frustrated and angered by the idiocy which I am confronted with every day, I seek sanctuary by blaming the rest of the world for my troubles. I am nobody special, I am just a thoughtless braggart searching for a scapegoat. I am responsible for my own actions yet I do not wish to take credibility for them. I intimidate. I persuade. I manipulate. I make people my pawns by creating a stereotype for them to believe in order to appear intelligent later. I am nobody special. I do what others do only I take it to a challenging and dangerous level so that I am perceived as stupid or crazy.  I control everything I do and I attempt to control those around me whenever possible. Do I succeed? Well, it all depends on which side of the mirror you are looking from. From your angle, you read my writings and you believe that I am not a bad person, just someone who doesn’t want to accept that he isn’t perfect. You think it is what I do in order to make me feel human. Other writings give you the impression that I am not a bad person, just one who thinks they are powerful enough to control others when it is obvious that he can not. From my side, I watch your face contort and transform every time you are humored, disgusted, or confused. I purposely put these thoughts in your head. I see what they really look like when they are being genuine. When they are reading, it is the only time I can see through your mask, for it is when you are the most vulnerable. When people read my writings, I watch their facial expressions. I know exactly what they are thinking. I could probably guess what you think of this but I am not going to. This isn’t the real me either. This is a side of me that I am letting you see so that you think you know me on a more personal level. It’s all mind games that I play. I am not stupid. I am not a genius. I am not crazy. I am not full of s***. Do you really think that just because I can make you change your mind about something or can confuse or you make you think about something you previously ignored that I am special? I am the boy who cries wolf. I am the chicken who thinks the sky is falling down. I have the ability to write down my thoughts word for word on paper, which is useful because my speaking abilities fall short. I think too fast to write it all down though, so sometimes there are gaps in my papers, switching from one subject to the next without any bridge to cross. It is only because I am so eager to hit things that I am thinking that I can only get the highlights without much depth into the subject. I am also undoubtedly a very lazy person. I expand my vocabulary and draw back on emotions I’ve felt in order to become artistic enough at writing to not have to lift a finger in the real world. What is the real world? I do not know. I can only guess what I believe the real world is through the tiny perspective my body gives me. From what I can tell, the world is a place full of violence, hate, greed, injustice, prejudice, and most importantly evil. I reach these conclusions only because of my bias. When I was little, I was picked on and mistreated by people for no apparent reason. This led to my anger at people for being so judgmental and cruel. In effect, I was so upset at how I felt other people were that I became the one judgmental and cruel. I now realize that people were only doing what they believed at the time was the best thing to do. Through this accepting of their actions, you would figure that I would revert back to my old self. I have become a child, seeing my errors but refusing to correct them. Instead of forgiving people for how they treated me, I have used their actions as basis for my beliefs. Nothing I say or do will ever prevent me from believing that their actions were acceptable. Perhaps it is because it is one of the few scenarios that I can not put myself into. Anyway, instead of relinquishing my hatred, I use it as a tool in order to desensitize myself from the heinous things that I do. I pretend that what I do is right and use my anger to weed out any chance of my conscious prohibiting me. It doesn’t feel bad to live without a conscious, only eerie sometimes when I have to have someone explain their emotions to me because I am incapable of feeling them myself. I pretend to be sensitive and understanding to others, while in reality I am only trying to figure out what I am missing. My advice I give to people comes purely through logic. I ask people what their feelings are, why they feel the way that they do, and what they would like to do about it. Based upon their answers alone I give them the advice they secretly want to hear. But never do I factor in emotions or feelings, they do that on their own.