The Disclaimer

For the nth night, I am yet to write my nocturnal nonentities. I wait still for the temporal to howl the greatest sound I could hear. Fear.
For no one I ever known really knew how it was to be the bully of your own shadow, and yet, everyone seem to love the idea of being pursued; chased; with what no ordinary men might be well aware of. But is there really someone out there who knows the feeling of being haunted by the mere casual thought of nothingness?
It is never my intention to confront no particular person with the idea that I am the only one to know or have seen with my two eyes the peculiarities of the world we live in. No I do not believe I am well capable of that. I am simply stating the obvious, which in our case, to live in the most peculiar generation of existence, the obvious is no longer the ordinary. I am to confront everyone not with the peculiarities of the world we live in, but with the world I live in.
This may not be comparatively easy to anyone living the great Stepford life, but to the likes of me, I may never need to heed the calling of great effort towards understanding what you might read. And to those curious eyes, may you endure the malignant effect of the words you might read and the images your mind might form in the dead of the night. I can no longer stay with you when aloneness beckons your room or even your mind, for reclusion may come even in the middle of a street full of people.
You may take this as a disclaimer, and I will not encourage you nor discourage you to go on. From this point forward, you are on your own.
You are now alone.