"Hello Mr. Spider.

Let's have a deal. I don't kill you, you don't come anywhere near me.

Great.

Hey! Come back! I want to talk to you!

Do you often feel different? Different from all the others? Like you're not a part of them? I mean, you know you're a spider, but the other insects can't accept it and are giving you a hard time. Don't they know you're not like them? For Christ's sake, you're not even an insect and they want you to be one. Isn't it hard to be the only spider in this place where there's only a couple of ants and some fruit flies? Where they are all so similar, bound by their stupidity and you're all alone. There's no one like you. No one that can truly understand. If there even is someone that gives a crap.

Please stay, Mr. Spider. I don't want to be alone.

They can't possibly even imagine someone being different. To them, you're just this eight-legged freak. You're just a big, crawling joke. And you can't do anything about it, 'cause no one listens. They take their shot and leave. They don't even have the decency to stay. If you were like them, Mr. Spider, they'd like you. They hate your guts because you're a spider. But you know, things are never simple. Never. Don't you find they get the only good part in life? Don't you see the fucking injustice?!? They have it all easy. It's so easy to be nasty when they're backed-up. How can you expect to stand up for yourself when you're all alone? It's easy for them, they don't even need to worry about being alone; they never are. They have their constant back up, because they are all the same. All the fucking same. And all just because you're different. Shit! You didn't even choose to be a spider. You didn't even choose anything. It just happened, and you never knew about it, Mr. Spider. How can one hate you for who you are? Who are they, anyway? Bugs not worth shit, that's all. And who are they to judge you? Don't you feel useless in this fucking weird ecosystem in my room? Wouldn't you be better off dead?

I won't kill you, Mr. Spider. I respect the deals I make.

Wouldn't you prefer ending it all, rather than living and suffering? Wouldn't Death be a preferable alternative? Don't you see nothing in this world wants you? Don't you see this world is far too cold and cruel for a spider like you? Don't you feel so rejected by life? Life is a bitch, I've always said. Aren't you sick of being pointed out constantly, picked on? We both know they just don't give a crap about you. Wouldn't you like to stop being alone? Haven't you lost all your hope? Wouldn't you prefer to rot six feet underground than live and have your insides eaten out day and night?

Don't leave, Mr. Spider. Solitude is nagging me.

But are you different, Mr. Spider? Why are they all the fucking same? And why can't they appreciate the change? Why can't they like you for who you are? Why can't they see you're not an insect, so it's normal you're different? Why can't they see you're a SPIDER, not a bloody insect? Why won't they let you be you, and be happy? Why don't they see the advantages in having a web? Why can't they see how neat it would be to be you? But no, they don't, so paralysed with their fucking mentalities, their close-mindness!

Can't you feel I'm scared, Mr. Spider? Scared out of my wits. Don't leave me with myself. I need someone to talk to.

Don't you feel so alone, Mr. Spider? Alone, left to yourself forever? Alone and different? Don't you feel the weight of solitude down on you? When there's no one to talk to. All alone, all day long. And constantly nagged by your pain? And constantly nagged by the other ones?

Stay, Mr. Spider. I really need someone to listen, just this once.

Well, Mr. Spider, thanks for having been there. "

This was written when I was high, pretty high (and don't count on me for telling you on what…) It was actually a real conversation with a real spider. Dead serious. It didn't really answer back, and I can't find it anymore. Maybe I hallucinated it, which is highly probable. Well, the fact I was high pretty much explains the contradictions, the sentence structure, the word repetitions and all that I'm not naming but that is still in the text. Well, as usual, when I type a hand-written text, I haven't changed anything, I left it whole. I'm not sure it's a very good diplomatic composition in itself, but I like the general idea. I really like the text, but it's more like my reflection (say analysis) on society (while being, er… elevated… to say the least, elevated being a synonym of high). So, let's just say I wanted to put it up here. Or else I'm still completely out there. So just pretend some random character -anybody, hell, how would I know?- had this same conversation, and it'll be ok. Conversation… hell yeah, it was more of a monologue, but what the fuck.

Bloody yours,

-Ajariel the Bloody-