From past known experiences i have come to the conculsion that the lack of oxygen can be very bad and have somewhat negative effects on the human body. This isn't saying that i have personally rid another human body of its oxygen, therefor killing the person for my own personal needs or curiousity.. Instead this observation and reallisation has come to me in the past days of events that seem to cycle and torment my daily routine.

Now when you think of Oxygen you may be thinking the gas that is circulated in our lungs or the O in H2O that some bright sparks in America doesn't realise is the chemical formula for water, or even just the air that breath approximately two-hundred thousand times a day without any conciouss thought. I however see oxygen as the very fabrics of ones life that we find as a necessity, such as entertainment, love, sanity. You can gather as to where this journal is lingering dangerously close to so if you don't which to have your journal entry box filled with another rant then i suggest reading no further.
For the rest of the human race and their inability to look away from other peoples problems then a good read is probably moments away.

Now obviously over time there will be moments where you will simply feel as if you have no options left, or that you have no other paths to take and then find yourself stuck in a small cold room with a professor nut who sits there comfortably telling you there is something wrong with your life, a theory that his seven years worth of study in getting the qualifications for such a job has come to the conclusion though if he had just come to the daunting fact that you wouldn't be sitting before him if that weren't the case, then maybe the experience would be fairly more enjoyable. These routine 'Check ups' as they call them are a systematic break down of the human mind and soul. With every two hour session you can almost feel the cold and rubbery hand of theoretical doubt probing at your mind with every text book question and shift of the seat from one arse cheek to the next.
After your weekly brain rape from the good doctor the increasingly dangerous lack of "Oxygen" is something that becomes all but too aparent. Now having those questions floating around in your head that have been forcefully injected like a cock in a virgins ass, suddenly leaves you wondering if there are more people passing by that look at you in the same way as the doctor did; summing you up and reading you like an open book that has been left open leaving the pages to be worn and weathered. Worried that such a fact is true you try to seek confirmation of your doubts by venturing to a friends house or simply meet at the usual square, of the usual city, of the usual corner, of the usual street and talk about something completely different each day that somehow through some fucked up and twisted drug related conclusion to the days rants, ends up with the usual answer of...
"Maybe you should just cheer up? Like.. I dunno do something to get your mind off of things.."
Not a good remedy for the mind that's for sure. Perhaps they are right, perhaps the answer to the problems is the fact you think too much and that there are times where you over-think and over-read every detail of every person and every flaw that drips from their obese frames like butter in a fridge door not shut all the way. Perhaps the remedy is in the loyal and understanding voice of your significant other or fiance in my case. At first there seems to be some hidden sense of logic in the words sang from her voice though even when sitting in the grand theatree listening to Beethovens Symphony No.5 half a dozen times or more, the exciting new exploration in the passion behind the notes played (or this case words spoken) dissolves and deteriates into an excuse for them to slowly but surely shift the weight of their own problems from their mind to your own. Now looking back to the metaphorical phrase used to describe such a break in of the mind and unwanted use of space forcefully put to work, the enflamed penis that has penetrated the ass of a small virgin is now replaced with that of a black man (No racism intended).
Now knowing of the growing and accumilating problems of this other vessel of misery upon this rock of a planet you take pride in assisting in their daily problems in their lives in false and somewhat corrupted hope in finding the answer to your own problems on the way. Instead the answer is further clouded and hidden away in a maze of barbed wire and rabid bulldogs as the growing intensity of presumed assistance on your behalf begins to cloud your judgement and thoughts with nothing but the problems of your partner, which tecnically is the definition of such a word. Now sharing the same level of oxygen now with this significant other, the air begins to grow somewhat thin as the intensity of their life clamped together by the hip of your own seems to leave the idea of breathing much more taxing than you had once anticipated. Instead the slow yet steady blue colouration in your cheeks from several traumatic and yet spontanious events leaves the lungs of your mental state somewhat deflated and shriveled leaving the only question of "Why?", a question we all found at the age of five and tormented our parents with, is now the only logical one left.

"Why?" as we have all found in our life, is the one question that has always been pushed to be asked by the many faces of society and to be asked without hesitation or fear of the answer though in many cases is one that is very rarely answered with something we can easily relate to an answer at all. Why one would bother posting a journal entry that many would just delete by clicking the cross in the top right hand corner whilst groaning about yet -another- depressing journal entry is baffling to many. Why one would still yet to find the answer to the questions without resulting in the selfish and somewhat idotic idea of self harm or suicide still remains sitting in silent anguish is something that -very- few have been able to accomplish. Why there are no more lines in this rant? Well..