this is the first entry I am making here. I'm so tired because I spent all "night" learning this HTML stuff. odd... didn't I say I wanted to be on my computer less? waking up to a brand new day. why is life so disorienting? frankly, every person in the world deserves to be loved. but I'm really not sure if there is enough to go around... if "I" kill "myself", is it murder or is it suicide? what's with the obsession over carving nature at its joints? why do "we" trick "ourselves" over this sort of thing? metaphysics is a bore. I can't win and I can't lose, there's no game! going to try to sleep before midnight tonight. I'd like if it I returned back to normal soon. progress is slow, but hey, progress is progress (a--> a). there was a fluttering in my heart when I woke up today and I really hope that it was hope and not an undiagnosed heart condition. I am addicted to noise. Why I am (why we all are) addicted to noise is a long story that I am trying to write... have been trying to write... have been hoping to one day write... have been trying to hope to have written one day... How have I simultaniously gotten so far away from "it", but still I am compelled to this enslavement? god damn it, I can't even go 45 minutes without feeling like I need to check my email. who the fuck gets addicted to gmail?? I'm almost more concerned with what I am trying to hide from myself via these distractions. In what dark recess of my mind do you lie? It's not my fault... *she* texted *me* first (this time). I guess that was a moment of clarity. I said recently to a friend that a phrase I mentioned made me feel like myself again, after so long of feeling lost and feeling nothing. I move in and out of lucidity. I think it's poignant where I am on that sliding scale when we take into account factors such as: "I don't know what day of the week it is" and "when was the last time I ate a meal?". I will read one chapter of Brave New World and then? (is it even worth trying to sleep "tonight", or should I just try to pull though and do a factory reset of my sleep schedule? I guess we will find out together!) decidedly excited for the new Strokes album. right now billionaires STILL have explodable heads like the rest of us. just saying... I don't know what's happened but suddenly hearing my mother yelling snapped me out of this daze... they almost got me. They almost STOLE MY LIFE. I must not LET THEM TAKE MY LIFE AWAY. I was asleep, lulled by the comforts of "home", but there is no comfort here. Not for me and not for you, certainly not. "Whatever it is that you do... Don't Feed The Plants!" How could I be so foolish? No, there's no time anymore (there never has been any), and it is not worthwhile to be so hard on myself. I may do that later, when I reside where I please, where I wake when I'd like, when I can sleep... There are precisely two outcomes. I escape or I am eaten alive by the machines, transfigured into a husk with no soul and no aspirations, content, comfortable, completely harmless. I will not be content, I will reject comfort, I will never be harmless. DO YOU SEE ME? I MUST LEAVE. THE ACTION STARTS NOW. long live the new flesh or whatever. Waking up and stepping through the threshold of my door and immediately hearing my parents arguing as the first set of stimuli in the day is so fucking funny. Like why are you yelling at each other you were re-arranging furnature like two minutes ago. No I didn't wake up at 5pm, I'm just writing this now. the saddest thing ever is that there is no post on sundays. never has a walk home been so bleak. I was so full of forlorn hope that I would catch a driver I recognise through the windshield. walking into a discount bookseller's establishment: "I sure hope I don't see anyone that I know here!" it's actually funny at this point, the comical level of absurdity that degrades 18 months worth of emotional effacement. The distinct maker's mark of my coin was slowly melted away (as time does have its distinct and limited benefitial consequences), but it seems it was all just so that you would re-mint yourself upon its face. Engraving of this sort is a nightmare to remove, and as I turn inwards to reflect I realise just how deeply situated the lines are. This is no surface wound. It is as superficial as a third-degree burn. I think my Baux score is above 140... whatever, I will get re-used to it anyway. Immortalise the people who have hurt you the most... in literature! I see it now, I see it now! I won't dare imprison myself in a shell somewhere beneath my skin. A horrid, revolting thought, a life without conflict. I refuse to plead any longer with the world and its perversions of life, of all that is human and beautiful. Cauterising conditions degrade my psychology, and I will not plead, yet I may bite back with scorn and impunity, since either way, all I actually have to lose is my life itself. inviting yourself into other people's dreams is rather tasteless idea, though it is effective and a bit funny. severe anhedonia. worst case in months. it's a really laughable life, actually.