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it's almost 6pm as i write this, and i don't think i've said a single word out loud today. when i was small, i thought about trying to see how long i could go without speaking. i never really though it could be this easy.
a while ago, i saw something, the contents didn't really mean much but the title stuck with me. it was called "i haven't done shit this year", i saw it about seven years ago now.
i have some kind of illness of the brain, which leads me to spend my time in psych intakes trying to figure out the psychologists. fortunately, this disease also seems to lead to me getting to do at least a few psych intakes.
can you think of anything else? anything from the past that you still linger on?
i had a friend, in the past, who i can't really speak to anymore. i just hope they're well.
how long ago did you stop speaking?
it took me a while to answer. i didn't really know who i had in mind when i started speaking.
i was talking to a friend today, and i said
(...) so much of the way i try to interact with art is trying to see through it to the author inside (...)
it always comes back to it, doesn't it. it's all kinship in the end. it's a pleasant thought that one day someone might do the same with me.
i hate to care about any kind of legacy, but i do find myself thinking of what it all sums to. how many unfinished drafts? how many warm bodies?
i wish for a lot of things. doesn't really matter in the end, though, does it?
lately i've found myself lying awake in bed at night, litigating myself against the imaginary people in my head. it's a trait i've always despised -- i think that if i'm going to spend time litigating myself to annoying people, they may as well real annoying people with real criticism, not some bullshit i came up with in my own head to satisfy whatever strange perversion of mine.
i think it's all a bit bad for me. it's teaching me a skill that's useful against the kind of criticism that (checks notes) nobody has. it's like getting edged, but with bitterness.
it'd be nice to be loved by everyone, i think. it'd be nice to be loved by everyone.
objective reality, measurable causality, fairness -- they're all fucking scams, asshole. you've known this, you've believe this for probably longer than you've been a real ensouled person for. what are you even doing here?
the only truth is the one you can see, and right now, that looks like one you're just making steadily worse for yourself.